by Stan Eldon
The big event was the annual conference in March 1993, which I took to Torquay for the first time. The star performer was Sir Ranulph Fiennes and the timing was perfect. He had just completed his latest exploration to the South Pole, and in fact a few days before he was due to speak we did not know if he would be back in the country in time. He did arrive with his frost-bitten feet, and when I introduced him to the audience in the Centre at Torquay, the place was packed with every seat taken and with many standing. I felt I had a little in common with him, although I could not compare. He was born, like me, in the Royal Borough of Windsor, and I think we have both done some crazy things; he with his expeditions and me with my long runs.
For a number of years from 1994, I was the main link between Rotary in Great Britain and Ireland and all the Scandinavian countries. This included chartering aircraft to fly up to 100 Rotarians and wives from this country to Billund (the home of Lego) in Denmark, and in the same aircraft flying back a similar number of Danish Rotarians, who would stay with their host clubs on the same weekend. Chartering an aircraft was a new experience for me, especially as I had to sign up to a bill of over £35,000, with the total responsibility to get sufficient money back on my shoulders. Eventually towards the end of the 1990s, the chartering ceased as the price of scheduled flights to Denmark became very much cheaper, and the charter price could not match these reduced prices.
One of my happiest and enjoyable experiences in Rotary, was when I had the honour to represent the International President of Rotary, Glen Kinross from Australia, at a Rotary Conference in Arundel, Norway. The Norwegians were so friendly and appreciative, even if they thought my accent when singing with them was more Swedish than Norwegian. I had to address the Conference a number of times, and fortunately the Norwegians do speak English, and when they were speaking in their own language there was always someone on hand to translate for me. One of their other main speakers addressed the problem of UK pollution hitting their country. I did not get a full translation of this speech, but it was quite hard hitting about the damage we do to their environment. It was a working weekend but it was very enjoyable.
I have enjoyed my association and membership of this great organisation. It has done much good work, largely unrecognised, in local and international communities. I do wonder what the future holds for such organisations in the new millennium. Do organisations like Rotary, the Lions, Round Table, Inner Wheel, have to change drastically to meet changing circumstances and conditions in society, or do they stick to their tried and trusted formula, principles and structure? Sadly society has changed, and until it changes back to being more caring and less selfish, and people realise the great satisfaction that can be derived by working together for the common good, such organisations are going to decline and so will the society we live in.
As far as Rotary is concerned, I think if it is to change, the changes may need to be quite drastic and far-reaching. The organisation is based on a club structure, and each individual belongs to a club. It may be in the future that Rotarians will not belong to a single club, but to the organisation with the same right as now, to attend any club anywhere. ‘Cheque Book Rotary’ has always been frowned upon by traditional long-standing members, but if individuals do not belong to a single club and cannot work on Service within that club area, perhaps money could be the answer.
I believe that Rotary has done, and still does, a great deal of good throughout the world, but I do have one major concern. I believe that like many similar organisations, it spends far too much time and money on its own pleasures. Socialising and fellowship is important, but the proportion of money spent on such activities is often disproportionate to moneys raised for charity and good causes. I believe in Rotary and the work it has done and continues to do, like being the driving force behind the immunization of millions to eradicate polio, and the tremendous support it gives to millions of local projects around the world. In 2005 it celebrates its centenary; it will be worth celebrating, but there is a big question mark over the future which is not entirely in its own hands.
In 1998 I had the responsibility for extension of Rotary in our District, and had the good fortune to be able to form three new clubs. These clubs attracted new, younger, forthright men and women from the modern business world, and it is they and those like them who will carry the torch in the future.
Chapter Twenty-Two: Matters of the Heart
Even as late in my life as 1996, I was called on as a celebrity for a special task. This was to launch the National Lottery Scratch Card in the Thames Valley. I had to go to a local garage who were the first to be ‘switched on’ to the new system for the Scratch Cards, and be photographed wearing a cap promoting the new gamble. The photographs were supposed to go out to all local papers to promote the start of the Scratch Card era. They did, but the PR fell a bit flat as the system did not work and people could not immediately buy their cards.
In May 1998, as a result of the money lost on the Reading Half Marathon, we decided to cut our losses and move from Reading where we had lived for forty-one years, and out of the county of Berkshire where I had lived for sixty-two years, to Didcot in Oxfordshire; a smaller town but very conveniently situated for wherever we might want to travel. The move has been good and not least because the medical attention I have received at the Radcliffe Infirmary, the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford and from my local GP, since moving counties has been excellent. Didcot is now our home, and we have found it a very pleasant place to live with the lovely countryside so close to hand.
My final ‘real job’ was from 1995 to 2000 with SportsAid Southern, ‘The Charity for Sport’, where I was the Regional Director. When I started with them in March 1995 they were in trouble, and not able to pay their way or meet their obligations. I agreed to work for a small fee of £500 a month, and rapidly helped to turn the organisation back into profitability. I enjoyed working again in a sporting organisation, but sadly even that organisation changed and it had an uncertain future. Over twenty-five years the regional organisation had raised money by its own efforts, and distributed over £400,000 to many up and coming and hopeful young sportsmen and sportswomen, some of whom have become household names in sport. In September 2000 I resigned from my post as Regional Director, as a stepping stone to retirement. SportsAid is another organisation that did a good job in a small way, with local help of volunteers, for many young people wanting to make their mark in sport, but in the new world of money in sport, I do not think it should or will have much relevance in the future. As one door closes another always opens, and even now that I have retired and reached OAP status, I wonder if there is yet one more career waiting for me around the corner.
Life was about to take another turn in early October 2000. I was feeling good having got back into running three times a week, which I hoped would start to reduce the weight I had put on since going onto insulin. My most recent run had been for forty-five minutes; the longest since I ran London in 1997, and I was looking forward to increasing the training because I felt quite confident I could run for an hour without a problem. I then went off to my six-monthly checkup at the Diabetic Clinic at the Radcliffe Infirmary in Oxford. Marion had accompanied me as she always did, and we parked the car at the Park and Ride and took the bus to the hospital. Everything was normal, and I then went in to see the doctor; a new one, as my old friend Dr Hisham Maksoud had moved on. He was not happy with something and sent me to have an immediate ECG. He then called me back in and took my pulse, which was reading around thirty per minute. He was not happy and said he would speak to the specialist at the John Radcliffe Cardiac Unit. After a short while he spoke to Marion and myself again, explaining that he thought I had a serious problem, and that I should go straight to the JR without returning home. I think we were both shocked, but I did ask what was the alternative, and his reply was “possible sudden death”. I decided I had better take his advice and go straight to hospital.
W
e drove to the JR a short distance away, as his message was still ringing in our ears. I had been given a largish packet containing all my records and a letter, and I reported to the Cardiac Unit. The bed was ready for me, and I was immediately wired up so that they could monitor me at the nurses’ station. Then I was attended by doctors and nurses, all asking questions and doing various things to me. I was then fitted up with a tape box to record my every heartbeat, and I looked like a bionic man with patches and wires all over me. At this stage I had been told I was booked in to have a pacemaker fitted the very next morning, so Marion was dispatched to fetch the usual requirements for a hospital stay from home. She returned and stayed a while before leaving me in the hands of the hospital. While she was there they gave me another ECG, and during this, one of the nurses came rushing in to say they had found the blip that had given the concern; they seemed quite excited. After she had left, another doctor came and examined and spoke to me at some length. He did not think I was a desperate case; that was the first bit of good news that day; but said he wanted to consult with a colleague before making a final judgement. He came back and said that he thought I would eventually need a pacemaker, and that as I was on the list, I could have one fitted on the next day as arranged, but he thought there might be some advantage in me going home with my ‘black box’ so that they could have a full twenty-four hour recording, which would clearly identify exactly what I would need. He left the choice to me, and looking around the ward at those much more desperate for treatment than me, I decided to go home.
I then tried to ring Marion, but had difficulty in reaching her as she was busy ringing the family to let them know what had happened. I did catch her off the phone, and within the hour I was back home complete with my wires, pad and ‘black box’.
After all the publicity that had recently surrounded the Cardiac Unit at the John Radcliffe, and the press stories about the NHS, I was amazed at the superb and swift way I was dealt with.
Only a couple of weeks later I was back at the “JR” for a checkout; two days before I was to have a pacemaker inserted. I duly arrived at the appointed time of 9:30 a.m., and had various tests to ensure I was OK for the treatment. At about midday I was seeing the final person, a doctor, before going home. Just as we were finishing there was a knock at the door; it was the doctor who was carrying out the surgery of implants that day. “Mr Eldon, I am Dr ... We have a problem. A patient who should be here for his pacemaker today can’t make it. Can we do yours today?” “Yes, why not.” I then had to go and tell Marion that I was not going home.
A bed was ready for me, and after being looked at again, and my blood sugars being checked, I was prepared for the insert which was to be done at 2 p.m. For this little procedure there was no trolley or wheelchair to convey me to the theatre. I just walked there and climbed up onto the ‘table’. A few minutes to ‘lay me out’ properly and set me up, and then it was “Light. Camera. Action” as the doctor said, and we were off. I could not see what was going on, but could hear everything and was having a conversation with the theatre nurse throughout. We had something in common, she was the partner of a well-known local veteran runner who I knew well. I was shown the pacemaker just before it was put in, and was amazed how small it was; not much larger than a fifty pence piece.
I did get a ride on a trolley from the theatre back to my bed, where I was confined for just two hours, except for a trip to have an X-ray by wheelchair. It was supposed to be bed rest, but there was not much of that, as various people descended on me to carry out various tests.
By 6:30 p.m., Marion was at the hospital, and I was dispatched home to Didcot. The staff at the John Radcliffe had done a very good job, and I was soon back to running again. I was very impressed with the NHS, but felt a little guilty about the speed I had been dealt with, bearing in mind some of the men I had met in hospital waiting for weeks, and not knowing whether their operation could be carried out in time to save their lives.
The pacemaker does its stuff now, and I have a faster and better heart beat, and I can still run; although I am not that happy with my speed or rather lack of speed, and feel that perhaps more long walks and even cycling could be the answer. The trouble is I do not know if my poor running is down to my weight, my pacemaker, the diabetes, or is it old age?
I am very concerned that, like me, many athletes of my generation appear to have developed heart and other medical problems such as diabetes in later life, which has in many cases brought lives to an end well before the “Seventy score years and ten”. If it was more recent generations, then perhaps this could be put down to the misuse of drugs, but as far as I know this is certainly not the case in the generation I am referring to. In my own case, and that of others, the problem starts with the low heart rate that is essential to the distance runner. Training reduces that rate, but in later life it seems the heart gets even slower and irregular, which is where the problem starts. I believe it would make an interesting piece of research for a doctor with an interest in running. Even while I was writing this book deaths were occurring, including the thirty-nine-year-old brother of Steve Cram. I do not want to put people off running, and still believe that keeping physically fit is important, but I do believe that not enough research has been carried out to prevent the problems I have referred to.
I have now been “On the Run” for fifty-four years; that is nearly twice as long as Ronnie Biggs! I have always enjoyed running and I cannot visualize life without it. I have been very lucky having never suffered from injuries that can be associated with the activity. I have found running hard recently, and it is not quite as easy as it was. I do not know if it is the diabetes, the heart, or just old age; probably a combination of all three, but depending on how I feel, I will run up to three times a week for anything from twenty minutes to an hour. I must confess I have taken a few breaks of some weeks in between, but I always have the urge to get back to it. Many people have described running as being like a drug; an addiction; I cannot argue with that. I will ‘keep on running’ as the 1960’s song said.
Chapter Twenty-Three: My Outlook on Sport Today
As I look back over more than fifty years of being involved with sport, I can see the many changes that have taken place. I have seen the changes in the popularity of different sports, and of course the change from amateur through shamateurism, to virtually full professionalism in most sports today.
In my early days there was no doubt that the big sports were athletics, boxing and cricket, with soccer some way behind. Over the years sports like squash have also had their day. I remember the big upsurge in that sport in the 1970s, and I nearly got involved with others in setting up squash clubs. The sales of squash rackets went up from about two a year to around fifteen a week in one shop, but the popularity did not remain, although the number of people playing did increase considerably from the very low figures prior to the boom. Cricket was hugely popular in the 1940s and 1950s, with the popular stars like Denis Compton and Bill Edrich. Athletics had a terrific following after the war, and I was lucky enough to be part of it. There were the great runners like Sydney Wooderson who were around both before and after the war. I remember seeing another great miler, Bill Nankerville (Bobby Davro’s dad). He used to wear very bright purple satin shorts that glistened under floodlights, and I could not wait to get a pair like them. Yes I did, and in fact I had a whole set of different colours. Then of course there was the excitement in the early fifties, as athletes like Roger Bannister, John Landy (Australia) and Wes Santee (USA), chased what was thought at that time to be the ultimate athletic goal; the sub four-minute mile. There was the great Emil Zatopek, who won his three gold medals at the 1952 Olympics in Helsinki, and set eighteen world records; and later the great Hungarian athletes Tabori, Iharos and others.
The crowds drawn to the sport in those days were huge. The White City had a capacity of around 40,000 seated, but crowds could touch 60,000 with people standing in front of t
he stands. Even on a Friday night of the AAA’s Championships, where there were only two finals, there could be a crowd of 30,000 to 40,000. Of course there was little television coverage of sport, but the radio was well used. Television has increased the number of ‘couch potatoes’, but it has been at the expense of genuine supporters attending some sports events. Even small events, like those at agricultural shows, fetes, carnivals and the Paignton Regatta Sports, the Devon Police Sports, the Air Ministry Sports, and the many handicap meetings in the north of England in particular, drew crowds of at least 5,000 people to see a few races run on grass tracks marked out around a cricket field, in those days of the 1950s and early 60s. Even as late as the 1970s some of these special events, like the Reading Gala of Sport, drew 5,000 to 6,000 people to a small stadium.
My sport of athletics has changed from those days of the 1950s and 60s. The fifteen shillings a day; the near enough genuine expenses; the maximum prize value of £7.7s (not money but goods to the value of); the underhand payment of perhaps £10 for a TV appearance; the odd £10 to £20 handed out by a grateful promoter; have all been replaced today with the commercial sponsorship; the £25,000 plus annual lottery grant; prize money; real money for TV appearances, and the chance to travel the world, not just to compete, but to train. But despite all this the sport has been ailing for some time, and the management of it at all levels has been very poor to say the least. It fought to stay as an amateur sport for far too long, and when it did find itself dragged into the professional era, it was slow to react and has still not got it right.
