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Athlete Richard Parks on how Mountains Saved his Life

 

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Richard Parks at the geographical South Pole marker during the Antarctica expedition.
Richard Parks at the geographical South Pole marker during the Antarctica expedition.

Former international rugby player turned extreme athlete Richard Parks tells Karen Ann Monsy about losing everything to a career-ending shoulder injury - and gaining it all, one summit at a time, by conquering his mind

By Karen Ann Monsy

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Published: Fri 23 Oct 2015, 12:00 AM

Last updated: Tue 27 Oct 2015, 9:20 AM

It's the worst news a professional athlete can be told: that he can never play again.

For Welshman Richard Parks, 2009 was the year "the bottom dropped out" of his world, when he was forced to retire from professional rugby due to a shoulder injury. "It was a really difficult and dark period for me, wrestling with the reality that my life would no longer be the same," recalls the 38-year-old, who was in town for a talk at the Dubai International Writers' Centre earlier this week to promote his book Beyond the Horizon.

Six years on, Parks' transformation into one of the world's leading extreme environment athletes is nothing short of phenomenal. In 2010, pulling himself out of his "dark spiral", the former flanker created the 737 Challenge - where he climbed the seven highest peaks in the world and stood on all three poles (North Pole, South Pole and the summit of Everest) in just seven months - despite never having climbed a mountain before. In January last year, he also became the fastest Briton in history to ski solo and unsupported from the coast of Antarctica to the South Pole.

EYE ON THE BALL: Parks (above, centre, in red, and right, centre, in yellow) played professional rugby for Wales, before a shoulder injury ended his career at the age of 31 in 2009
Looking at Parks now, clean-shaven, high-spirited and in what seems to be superb form, it's hard to imagine that the strapping 6 ft 2" athlete before us was, at one point, facing the possibility of never getting back into the world of high performance sport - let alone earn a living from it. Grinning from ear to ear as he tells us his story, he explains it's because "I literally pinch myself everyday. I know I'm privileged to still be a professional athlete..." Excerpts from the interview:
You were forced into retirement at the age of 31. I'm guessing you didn't have a plan B.
Nope!
What were your thoughts at the time?
Physically, it was brutal - I'd torn the cartilage out of my right shoulder, rendering it ultima-tely arthritic - but far more difficult was the emotional black hole that came afterwards. I went through the classic grief curve - anger, denial, fear.
Professional rugby had controlled all of my adult life up until that point and, all of a sudden, when the doctors said I wouldn't be able to play anymore, I felt like I was now-here. adrift like a ship at sea. Every pro athlete has to eventually transition from sport to the real world. It's a cruel reality that sport can't last forever. Yet, very few of us are prepared for that transition, and it hits everyone in different ways.
I've got perspective on it now and know that my emotions resonate with many others making the same transition. But, for me, at that time, it was as though my world had ended. It was mostly fear and regret in the end - two things I do my very best to avoid in the current chapter of my journey.
After such a severe injury, extreme environment athleticism is not the way most people would've thought to go. How did the 737 challenge happen?
It was a mixture of things. Subconsciously - and I say that because I wasn't really aware of the emotions I was battling at the time - I was tired of being scared. I didn't want to be scared anymore. I didn't want to live with those regrets. I needed to draw a line under it.
It was actually a book called Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know by [English adventurer] Sir Ranulph Fiennes, and a sentence from my late grandmother's funeral - 'The horizon is only the limit of our sight' - that combined to light the fuse and become a catalyst for me to pick myself up again.
I'd perceived the end of rugby as the end of my life but those two things gave me the courage and inspiration to channel my energies into something positive - which was [climbing] mountains. And I have to say: mountains probably saved my life.
Undertaking the Seven Summits challenge would've been quite the feat in itself. Why push yourself by also attempting to stand on the three poles - and all in seven months?
I wasn't aware of a world record when I started this journey. I had no plan. For me, it was just a way of exorcising my demons and learning how to climb. I loved what I was doing and the environment I was performing in. It was the people that formed my 737 challenge team - friends, mentors, sponsors, employers - that evolved the project into what it became.
Apart from that, I also believe wholeheartedly in going big. We live in an unprecedented age of opportunity. Yet, it is also an unprecedented age of restrictions and rules about health and safety, which is why I think it's more important now than ever to push ourselves outside our comfort zones. For me, if you're going to dream, you have to dream big. It's ironic that falling so deep after my injury meant that I bounced back rea-lly high... One of the reasons I live with an attitude of gratitude now is because it's opened doors to me that I could've never dreamt of. And I find it insane that the darkest period of my life also opened doors to the best chapter of my life.
How rigorous was the training that followed?
A lot of my success comes from my meticulous attention to detail and a lot of that is driven by embracing the fear that had shackled me as a player. I'm still scared of the environments I perform in now - it's just that I'm at peace with that and use that fear to inform and push my preparation.
I'm 21 kilos lighter now than when I played at my last rugby game. Pound for pound, I'm a stronger athlete now than I was then. More and more schools of thought are proving that our minds are the limiting factor in our performances - and that's something I really believe.
What was the toughest part of the challenge for you?
Each of the legs of the 737 project had its own unique challenges but the crux of the project was always going to be Mts Everest and Denali - two of the toughest climbs on the planet in their own rights. To add to that, I developed frostbite on Mt Everest as a result of pushing myself so hard - I was the fastest summit that particular season, taking just 25 days from base camp to summit - and that threw the whole project into jeopardy. After recovering just enough to continue, however, I had a horrific fall on Mt Denali and that very nearly ended the expedition - and almost resulted in a much worse fate.
Can you tell us about the fall?
It happened about two hours out of base camp. As it was, we'd arrived really late in the season, because of delays throughout the project. (I'd summited Mt Everest very late - one of the last to do so that season - and then, having developed frostbite, had to spend two weeks recovering in a hyperbaric chamber in the UK; so, by the time I arrived at Mt Denali, it was very, very late.)
The mountain was beginning to warm, which meant increased risk of avalanches. The first section of the climb became incredibly sketchy as all the snow bridges began to melt. That's when Matt, my climbing partner, and I had the worst first day of any expedition.
I fell seven metres (about 23 feet) through a snow bridge into a pretty big crevasse; luckily, I landed on a ledge that broke my fall. For the next 1.5 hours, I was stuck, while Matt and a passing American rope team worked to get me out. We were then faced with the difficult decision of whether to turn around or continue. Matt and I decided to continue - and we worked through the same glacier, the same crevasse network, till we thought it safe to pitch a tent. It was one of the most harrowing experiences of my life - but also, a real defining moment.
Had I not continued, I'm not sure I'd be here to talk about it right now, because we literally snatched the very last window of the season. Nobody summited after Matt and I did that year. We climbed Mt Denali in nine days - which is very fast, considering it's a 19-day climb, on average. Had we turned around to take stock and attempt it again the day after, we would've missed that weather window so, while it was a terrifying experience, there was a really important life lesson we took away that day as well.
You raised substantial funds in aid of the Marie Curie Cancer Care foundation through the 737 challenge. Was there a reason you picked that charity in particular?
My father is a cancer survivor and in memory of my Nan, it seemed like a logical decision to support a wonderful cause. I'm really proud to have raised the money we did for the charity, but what I'm equally proud of is that, throughout the duration of the project, we created an advertising value of over £3 million, which significantly increased the profile of Marie Curie in the UK. And that's something all of us on the 737 challenge team are really proud of.
What does it take to go from everything to nothing and back up to everything again?
Wow. (laughs, then mulls it over for almost a minute) It takes five values. In no particular order, they are: perseverance, teamwork (including support network and family), passion (which could also include ambition and lust for life), honesty (or integrity), and gratitude.
Why honesty?
Because only in our darkest moments do we really see ourselves - and that's really uncomfortable. When you strip back the layers that we hide or exist behind, actually seeing who we are, our strengths and our weaknesses, it's really scary. But it's only by having that honesty that we can have the self-awareness necessary to evolve and grow.
Do you miss rugby?
I'm very privileged to have achieved more in this chapter of my life than I did as a rugby player, even though I had a good career. Having gained the self-knowledge I have now has allowed me to draw a line under that [phase of my life]. And that's a real blessing, because I know a lot of former athletes who are doing many different things and seem happy on the surface but, really, there's a void in their soul where their sport used to be. It's a really tough space to fill so I feel very lucky that I still get to do what I love today.
You've smashed a couple of world records and created some of your own. How does that feel and what's next?
It feels awesome! My overriding feeling with everything I do is pride and gratitude. Obviously, I'm proud of what I've achieved but I'm also grateful for the people that helped me do it. It was a book that played a part in getting me out of my dark place. To think that, six years on, I'm back in a different country, sharing my book... just blows my mind.
I'm very excited about my next project, which is, unfor-tunately, still confidential, but I can tell you that, physically, it's going to push me more than I've ever done before. There's a very significant scientific objective to it too. So, hopefully, by the end of the year or early next year, I'll be able to tell you all about it too.
karen@khaleejtimes.com 


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