yes ma'am - method in my madness

chapter 24

yes, Ma’aM

in between working for the BBc at the aintree meetings i was backon the move: in august 2008 i led a riding holiday in tajikistan andafghanistan and then in January i returned to argentina to have

another crack at aconcagua. on this occasion i le Major Phil and his mates behind, and went instead

with a friend called henry cookson. i had met henry when i was preparingfor the south Pole, via the small world of arctic and antarctic connections.aer doing various expeditions of his own henry had started a businessleading adventurous holidays, and does his utmost to ensure that his chargesreach their destination. i still suffered from the altitude but taking themountain at a more realistic pace enabled me to summit successfully.

channel 4 provides the coverage for cheltenham, so during the 2009festival i was not working but i am sure a lot of people got sick of seeingmy face repeatedly all the same. i was regularly on air, up on a grey horsewith familiar-looking liquid black eyes. ere the similarities with desertorchid ended. e horse in question was the docile Gracie, a prop for atelevision commercial promoting Paddy Power Bookmakers. a verypublic promotion, aired endlessly during the festival.

we ride into a punter’s kitchen to deliver the good news that PaddyPower are paying out for fih place on each-way bets. half asleep, he issomewhat surprised to find us loitering by the fridge, with me munching

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his cereal sat on Gracie before i deliver his winnings. leaving himbewildered, the horse and i trundle out, lacking the flourish or flair thatmy exclamation “ride like the wind!” suggests.

it is doubtful that hollywood will be calling offering opportunities toemulate retired footballer Vinnie Jones’ post-sporting career on the bigscreen. e phone was buzzing aer every showing though. Mainly with arelentless stream of mickey-taking texts. “wooden woody” was a commontheme.

despite all the slating it was a good laugh, and it paid well for a fewhours’ work. it was one of four advertisements featuring retiredsportspeople, all of whom still need to earn a living, and these are thesorts of opportunities that come our way.

former liverpool goalkeeper Bruce Grobbelaar recreated hisspaghetti-legs shimmy from his famous attempt to disrupt francescoGraziani’s concentration as he lined up to take his kick in the penaltyshoot-out between liverpool and a.s. roma to decide the 1984european cup final. in Bruce’s advert he has an even less dignified exitthan i, making his escape through a tardis-like dishwasher.

former nottingham forest and england defender des walker appearedin a wardrobe, hanging amongst the shirts. des got the most questionableline for boosting his self-esteem, introducing himself to the surprised punteras: “desmond sinclair walker. 657 appearances. one goal.”

former sheffield wednesday and west Bromwich albion footballer,carlton Palmer, was probably the strongest actor of the four of us. hepopped up in a punter’s bath, replacing his submerged wife, to deliver thewinnings whilst delivering his lines with significantly more poise thanBruce, des or i managed.

such flippancies were diverting entertainments in 2009 as i preparedto undertake the main event: walking 1,000 miles in 1,000 hours in to

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celebrate the 200th anniversary of captain robert Barclay’s achievementof the same feat on newmarket heath in 1809.

captain robert Barclay was a scottish aristocrat known as ecelebrated Pedestrian in the early nineteenth century, and was consideredby many to be the founding father of pedestrianism, a precursor to thesport of racewalking. in those days people would regularly walk greatdistances for practical purposes, and measures of speed and staminaquickly became an indicator of sporting prowess. for practical purposesBarclay would think nothing of walking 100 miles to attend a drunkendinner party and would walk home again to sober up.

Barclay belonged to a group of well-bred gentleman known as efancy, wealthy types who would gamble on anything and everything.horses were inevitably a favourite as well as boxing matches, but as thesport of pedestrianism gripped them with ever-increasing distances itbecame their punt of choice. e fancy would challenge each other tofeats of pedestrianism.

e climax to these challenges arose in the summer of 1809 whenanother member of e fancy, James wedderburn-webster, wagered thatcaptain Barclay would be unable to walk 1,000 miles in 1,000 hours for1,000 guineas. as Barclay could walk 70 miles between breakfast anddinner on a good day, at first glance the distance and time allowed do notseem overly taxing. e catch was that each single mile had to becompleted in consecutive hours. Barclay would walk the same mile onnewmarket heath for 1,000 hours without a break, snatching sleep andmeals in the spare minutes between the miles. at the time it wasconsidered the greatest feat of human endurance ever attempted.

Barclay’s 1,000 Mile challenge remains a significant event in thehistory of racewalking, and as the 200th anniversary approached the racewalking association were keen to commemorate it by rerunning the



challenge in newmarket. ey were also hopeful that someone connectedwith racing could be persuaded to be the pedestrian. for some reasonthey thought of me.

i knew nothing of this when one day in april 2008 i walked intonewmarket races and was confronted by stephen wallis, the managingdirector of the racecourse.

“i have got something for you. come and have a chat with ron andme,” he said cryptically.

for further details i agreed to meet with stephen and ron wallwork,a former commonwealth racewalking gold medallist and manager of thenew astley club for stable lads in newmarket, which receives valuablecontributions from racing welfare. ron was understandably keen thatthe walk should support that charity.

My interest had been piqued when i first heard all about captainBarclay and his 1,000-mile walk, and i had visions of potential routes. irecalled that sir ian Botham had recreated hannibal’s walk through thealps to raise money for leukaemia research and began to think alongsimilar lines.

unsurprisingly i was soon a little disappointed to discover that the 1,000miles actually meant walking the same stretch up and down newmarket’sBury road one thousand times. nevertheless, this was ron’s brainchild, hisenthusiasm was engaging, i was keen to support racing welfare as i am atrustee, and so i agreed. a committee was formed including rogerweatherby, chairman of racing welfare, and Brough scott, the journalist.sponsors were sourced and the logistical planning started in earnest.

at is how i found myself in newmarket a year later, in april 2009,undertaking a 72-hour trial as a taster for what i was letting myself in for.But there was no backing out if i found it was not to my liking. captainBarclay had taken a slightly different approach. Before he accepted the


251yes Ma’aM

wager he was unsure of how the sleep deprivation would affect him. inorder to find out he instructed his manservant to walk a mile every hourfor as long as possible. aer his manservant’s sixth day he was satisfied itcould be done. My trial was more of a training exercise as well as anopportunity for the scientists of the university of ulster to carry out sometests. ey would be monitoring my performance levels, both physicaland psychological, during the main event.

it was also an opportunity to familiarise myself with my surroundings.apart from the university of ulster’s involvement, modern energy snacks,nike ultra-light trainers and Gore-tex waterproofs i had a secret weaponcaptain Barclay could never have dreamt of. a suite in e Bedford lodgehotel.

noel Byrne, the manager of the Bedford lodge, had agreed to put meand the racewalking officials up for 42 days in June and July while icompleted the mileage. in april i arrived to get to know what wouldbecome my new home for the summer.

in three days i learnt a few things from the trial, but principally that iwas in for a monotonous time and that i needed to be careful to avoidinjury.

we established a routine that involved completing each mile on eitherside of every odd hour. it takes approximately 15 minutes to walk themile, so i would commence a mile at twenty minutes to the odd hour,and return at five minutes to. en i would rest for five minutes beforesetting out again on the stroke of the hour, returning at a quarter past. inthis way i was able to complete a mile every hour but have 1 hour 15minutes in bed between each block of two miles. if it sounds repetitivejust reading it, you should try walking it.

i obviously did not need to sleep between each set of miles, so throughthe day there was a lot of hanging around, passing the 80 minutes. during



the main event i had plenty of company as people came to walk with mebut during the trial the boredom was killing me. liz ampairee, a goodfriend who was managing all the organisational aspects of the challenge,was with me, and together we spent a lot of time drinking coffee in the barof the Bedford lodge.

on the third day of the trial, i had just finished my one o’clock miles andwas sitting in the bar with liz when coral Pritchard-Gordon, sir Michaelstoute’s partner, rang. sir Michael’s home was near the Bedford lodge.

“hi richard, you busy?”“i’m pretty free for the next 80 minutes to be honest, why?”“well pop over, we have a visitor you might like to meet, come and say

hello.”“oK, give me two minutes!” i said, and sprang to my feet to go and

make myself look presentable.sir Michael stoute is one of the Queen’s racehorse trainers, and coral

had previously mentioned that she might be in newmarket to visit herhorses that week. i had met the Queen before, but in very formalsurroundings. e most recent had been when i presented her with asilver memento and cup for winning the chesham stakes with free agentat royal ascot in 2008. Before that i had met her in 1994 when shepresented me with an MBe for “services to racing”.

it has oen been mentioned that when my presence was firstcommanded at Buckingham Palace to receive the award, my response wasthat i could not make it because i was due to ride at Plumpton that day.ings had changed a lot since then. i had more free time on my handsfieen years later, and loitering in the Bedford lodge there was no way iwould be making the Queen wait now.

liz and i arrived at sir Michael’s house and were shown into thedrawing room. sir Michael and coral were there, as well as John warren,


253yes Ma’aM

the Queen’s racing manager, and Michael and Georgina Bell. Michael isanother newmarket trainer who also handles some of the Queen’s horses.everyone seemed very relaxed and chatty.

e Queen herself was sitting on a sofa and there was space next to her,which coral ushered me towards. i am quite a shy person, but i am notoen intimidated when i meet somebody. Plonking myself down besidethe Queen in a social situation, i was petrified. My mind was racing. howshould i address her? “your Majesty” first, and then “Ma’am” of course,but how do you actually pronounce that in practice? i think i called herMum at one stage.

coral was going about her business and serving tea, as if this was allperfectly normal, which maybe it is in her drawing room. it is certainlynot in mine.

e Queen asked me a couple of questions about my walk, but these weremerely the polite preliminaries. she wanted to talk racing and started tellingme about Barbers shop, a horse she had in training with nicky hendersonthat used to belong to the Queen Mother, and which Mick fitzgerald roderegularly. within minutes it was obvious that the Queen knew her racinginside out, and she is easily one of the most knowledgeable owners i haveever met, with a firm grasp of every detail. if the media qualified for royalwarrants i suspect the Racing Post would be a certainty.

Between flustering about my comparatively limited racing knowledge,i was taking sips of my tea. coral had got the finest china out, dainty anddelicate little cups and saucers, better suited for more elegant fingers thanmy oversized digits. as i tried to grip the bone china between my stubbyforefinger and thumb, i spilt tea into the saucer, starting a further mentalpanic.

taking tea with the Queen is a fascinating experience. up close sheseems like she has the sort of sparkling sense of humour you would expect



from the wife of someone as entertaining and amusing as the duke ofedinburgh, but there is a formal subtlety to it. as it is only hinted at, withsmiling eyes, of course you cannot be sure, and wary of offence you endup just responding to everything with an involuntary “yes, Ma’am.”

she mentioned a time when Jamie spencer met her in the paddockbefore riding for her. he came into the parade ring with grass stains allover his breeches, from a fall in a previous race.

“when i asked him what the ground was like, he chose to ignore me,”she said, with what appeared to be wry, regal humour.

if any other owner had told me about Jamie spencer ignoring them inthe paddock in similar circumstances, i would have laughed and saidsomething like “sure, we’ve all done that in our time!” with the Queeni just said, “yes, Ma’am.” she must have thought i was crazy.

liz did the same, pretty much responding to whatever the Queen askedwith a “yes, Ma’am.” it was clear the Queen assumed that liz was mygirlfriend and at one stage she asked liz a question confirming thisassumption: “you must miss him when he’s away?” under normalcircumstances liz would have gone to great lengths to correct themisguided impression.

her response to the Queen?“yes, Ma’am.”e Queen told me she had high hopes for the richard hannon-

trained free agent in the coming year. she must be disappointed.listening to the details of a win for Barbers shop at sandown, i heardhow his rating had been raised 17lbs in two races. with any other owneri might have suspected they held strong views on trainers’ abilities to lookaer their horses’ handicap mark.

we talked about her winner at ascot the previous summer and it wasfabulous to see the Queen simply expressing the unbridled joy of a passionate


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owner revelling in the satisfaction of a big winner. although it was on herturf, she had not had a two-year-old winner at royal ascot for 20 years andbreaking the cycle very obviously had meant the world to her.

Just as i thought i was beginning to settle, and would be able to offermore meaningful conversational input, she caught me off guard again.she was telling me about the jockeys who had ridden for her, whensuddenly she paused, her eyes twinkling with the faintest hint of aknowing smile.

“i hear Mick fitzgerald’s book is very good. do you think so too?”“yes, Ma’am.”


yes ma'am - method in my madness

Documents

festival i

aintree meetings i

dignied exitthan i

henry cookson

e horse

docile gracie

walker appearedin

thesorts of opportunities