Fundraising is hard work...

I have come to the conclusion - and possibly it's not a startling one, because it's probably patently obvious to those in the know - but I have reached the conclusion that fundraising is really hard work. Seriously, it is. In some ways, it's harder work than the training I've got to do to be able to complete these events. Okay, the training is hard work too. There are motivational and tiredness issues, but once I get out there (and I have always managed to get myself out there so far) I quite enjoy it. Even the swimming. Really. But raising funds for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal is really quite difficult and also requires a degree of dedication which I hadn't quite thought about when I took this challenge on.

I suppose that is why charities and hospitals employ fundraisers to work on their behalf. They wouldn't be paying people to hold these positions if it wasn't hard work, and I have to say, I now have a new respect for the people who do hold these posts. Hats off to them - it's a very difficult job.

When I first thought about running the Greats for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal and set about putting my plan into action as a serious fundraising attempt, I have to admit, I really didn't think too much about the target amount of money I set myself to raise when I set up my "Justgiving" donation page. There was something almost frivolously easy in the way I gaily typed in £3,000 in the "target amount to be raised" box, as I set the page up. I really didn't think about it too much at all. Now, one month in (and, okay, it's only one month in and there's plenty of time to get there yet), but it has suddenly occurred to me that £3,000 is a lot of money. I mean, it's three thousand pounds. What was I thinking when I typed that figure into that box? People don't part with any amount of money easily and to reach the three thousand pounds target, I'm going to have to persuade a lot of people to donate.

Therefore, with this in view, I have decided to contact EVERYBODY I have ever known. Yes, no matter how slight or tenuous the connection, I have been attempting to contact everyone in the entire history of my life who might remember me, no matter how slightly, and thus have an interest in supporting me, just a little bit. This has involved tracking people down (mainly using Facebook and the Friends Reunited web sites) and sending lots and lots of emails. In fact, every single night, I spend at least an hour at the computer, sending emails, letting people know about what I'm doing and asking them if they'd be willing to lend their support. My husband, who is slightly sick of the time the training is taking out of our lives, and sick as a dog about the fact that he's got to look after the kids for the duration of the ten events I am participating in, is also getting sick of me hogging the computer all the time.


But it's not just tracking down old friends and sending out emails. I've also joined a University alumni group and posted a message on their website, pleading for sponsorship as well as sending an email to the people who run the University alumni newsletter which is sent out periodically, asking if they'll include a paragraph about what I'm doing in their next publication. (No response so far, but maybe they don't want to draw attention to the fact that one of their alumni has clearly gone off her rocker in even considering this challenge in the first place).

And then I thought of another idea to publicise the fact that I'm running the greats for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal. I thought "I know, I'll have a couple of t-shirts printed up to publicise the fact that when people do see me limping down the road in an attempt at running, they'll know that I am actually doing it for a purpose. I'll put my Just Giving web page address on my shirts, and who knows, someone might see it, and sponsor me." So I went to a t-shirt printing shop in town.

I'm not going to name them. I'm not. I'm not naming them for two reasons: (1) I don't have a single good thing to say about the service this shop has offered, and if I name them, well they might sue me or something like that; and (2) I haven't got my hands on the t-shirts they agreed to print for me and which, I hasten to add, I have paid for, yet, and I don't want them to get cross with me and print something obscene on the back or anything like that.

I suppose I should have realised I was going to have a hard time. The man in the shop who dealt with my enquiry - and I don't want to be mean here - but he didn't seem the brightest spark in the world. He asked me what I was doing and I explained that I was running the greats for the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal, and that I would also be completing the Great North Swim, which was a mile through open water on Windermere. Maybe he wasn't listening to me properly or something like that. Maybe the explanation of what I am doing was deficient somehow, but his next question was: "You're running? Through water?" What can you say to that. "Well, kind of. Only it's called swimming and it's really, really important that you don't stop."

Anyway, I had taken the Weston Park Hospital Cancer Appeal logo down to the shop on a disk. It was a disk which the man's computer was completely unable to open. Fair enough - these things happen - technology issues, etc. We worked through the wording which was going to be appearing on the t-shirts I had taken in (when I say "worked through", this involved me typing the wording into his computer whilst he chatted to his mate) and agreed that I would email the logo to him later that day, which I did. He promised that the t-shirts would be ready by the end of the week and that he would call me when they were ready. Well, Friday came around and no phone call, so I thought I'd give them a call, just to see how they were getting on. The first time I got through whoever answered the phone said "Look, can you call back. I've got a shop full of people here." (Hmmm, very professional approach, I thought), but I called them back an hour later anyway, only to be told that their email was broken (why hadn't they phoned to tell me this at the beginning of the week?) and as such my t-shirts had just been left on the side. "Could I go in, with a disk with the logo on?". I explained that I had already done that, and that they had been unable to open it. They told me to save it as a different format and bring another disk in. I was cross, I have to admit. I was cross because they really didn't seem to care about the fact that they hadn't done the job which I had paid them for. Plus, it really wasn't that convenient to have to go all the way into town again with another disk, but it was patently obvious that unless I did take the disk, I was never going to see my t-shirts again, despite the fact that I had paid them already for the job they had no intention of putting themselves to any trouble to complete.

So I went into town with another disk. There was a MASSIVE traffic jam on the way in and it took me about forty minutes to cover three miles (you can imagine what sort of mood that put me in). Plus, I was in danger of being late for work (I took the disk in on my way to my evening shift at the bookies), so I literally ran into the shop, flung the new disk at the numpty on the desk and ran out again. He promised that I'd be able to collect my t-shirts by the middle of next week, but I'm not holding my breath. I seem to have heard those sorts of promises from them before.

Still, perhaps it will be worth it when I get the t-shirts. Perhaps loads of people out there will see me out training and sponsor me as a result. I hope so. I seem to have put an awful lot of effort into raising money for my cause but not seemed to have got very far. I suspect this is how the full-time professional fundraisers feel everyday of their lives, unless they have a really, really good day. It's frustrating and time-consuming, and worse, it's becoming something of an obsession. I find myself going on and on about it to my friends (who probably feel pressured into sponsoring me and are probably sick of hearing about it). I find myself plotting new ways to bring my campaign to the attention of people who might sponsor me. I worry about it all the time.

And then, there are the people who I don't want to find out about my campaign.

That sounds really odd, but permit me to elaborate. Obviously, as I have explained, I have spent the last month contacting everyone I can think of who might sponsor me and telling them about the challenge I have set for myself. This, of course, includes my family. My sister "Pompey", was the first person to sponsor me on my justgiving web page. The one person I haven't told is my Mum. I've got to admit, I'm really, really afraid to. She's a real worrier, my Mum, and I just don't know how she's going to react when she finds out about all of the running and swimming (particularly the swimming - my Mum, after all, will remember how I singularly failed to learn to swim until I was twelve years' old, despite the fact that she must have paid hundreds of pounds out in swimming lessons). Therefore, I have been in the slightly odd position where, at thirty-six years' old, I have been emailing people and letting them know about what I am doing and asking for their support, but if these people know my Mum at all, I have had to add the appendage "But don't mention it to my Mum - I haven't quite got around to telling her about it yet." It's ridiculous. I am, after all, as I have said, thirty-six years' old. Much too old to be afraid of my Mum and her reactions when she finds out... So next week, hardest task of all so far in the fundraising (apart from possibly getting those .... to print my t-shirts up) is to come clean, 'fess up and tell her what's I'm doing. I don't know how she'll take it. I'll let you know next week.