Great South Run

With the arrival of my parents on Saturday afternoon, running kit laid out with race number firmly attached, warm clothes and snacks packed, I was ready for Great South Run.

Except I didn't feel prepared at all.

I had spent the whole day feeling very nervous and jittery. Writing my blog had helped, but nothing could take away the niggling doubt of being not ready. The Boss had offered words of both support and comfort; normally he can reassure me that what I've done is enough but it didn't work. My husband's efforts to put my mind at rest couldn't shift the unease, and the girls chanting 'You're not nervous, you're excited' made me smile and so I tried to mask my true feelings as best I could.

I went to bed expecting to lay awake fretting, but I think I must've exhausted myself worrying and pacing. I remembered The Boss' words of not worrying about sleep, but just rest. Not worrying (not a skill I possess!) about getting to sleep was the perfect remedy, and I drifted off into a restful slumber. Our toddler woke at 2:30am, and after settling her I laid awake and reassured myself that just resting was OK. Once again, sleep overcame me and I woke at 5am feeling rested. The clocks had gone back so I wasn't concerned by the early hour.

Husband soon rose after me, and was keen to make sure he was up and ready. All of the preparation paid off and we were all out of the door and in the car by 7am. All of the nervous anxiety had left me and I felt calm. Unprepared but calm. Excitement had replaced the nerves, and I allowed myself to look forward to a big, televised event.

We easily got to Gunwharf Quays and parked the car in a corner spot which would allow me to get changed out of inevitably wet running kit later in the day. I was not the only runner arriving early; several others were milling around, making phonecalls to arrange meeting points and starting the pre-race empty-your-bladder-as-many-times-as-possible ritual. The balance between being well hydrated and quelling the fear of needing to pee while running is a delicate one, and one I am yet to perfect.

We walked from the car park to the area surrounding the start line, with brightly coloured charity tents, big screens and the huge white canopied tent provided by Bupa for free post-race massages. I couldn't help but start to feel nervous again as we stood waiting, and I thought about doing the walk we'd just had after the run. It felt like it was a really long way back...

The Run Mummy Run girls had planned a meet up at the Bupa tent, and some of them easily spotted by the funky RMR compression socks and logo tops. I would never normally plan to meet with a group who were based online, but these ladies have provided a constant source of knowledge, experience and reassurance.The anecdotes and tips shared within the group gave them a sense of community that extends beyond the computer screen. However, it is slightly odd already knowing someone's name, and a familiarity in their face before you've even met them! The chat was easy, and I happily posed for a picture with them. I was overly aware that L and my other friend, A, were not yet there and I felt that unwelcome bubble of worry rising within me. My phone was already beginning to lose battery life, and I wanted to preserve as much of it as possible to record the ten mile route on my RunKeeper app, so I tried to stop myself from pinging off a million texts to check on their whereabouts.

Finally L popped up out of nowhere, and it was time to brave the cold in my minimal running gear, and join our wave of fellow runners to await our call to the start line. This had featured in so many of my anxiety dreams, and yet it was probably one of the easiest parts of the day. My family had gone to their planned points on the route, and we were joined at the rails by L's boys, husband and mum. They were a very welcome distraction from the cold, and very soon we were walking up to the start line, surrounded by thousands of other runners. We were encouraged by a Mr Motivator style guru to participate in an aerobics style warm up. Call me grouchy, but I would've preferred warming up by getting running rather than trying to prance around zumba-style trying to avoid punching my neighbour in the face. I also have a theory that I do not partake in aerobic style exercise on a normal day, and the five minutes before attempting to run for ten miles is not the time to start. I was so glad when that was over, and eventually I crossed the start line with a hand on my Garmin watch, ready to record. L was at my side, and I was glad she was there reminding me to hang back and not start the race attempting to emanate Linford Christie.

I love the start of the race. I learnt at my very first race, Race for Life 5k, not to be cocky and to fly off using all of my energy in the first 100 meters. Instead I like to look around me, to take in the atmosphere and look at all of the people. Every single runner there had a reason for their run, and many were running for a charity. I looked for others in Great Ormond Street vests, but couldn't see another. GOSH were not attending this race, and so there were no post run treats for GOSH runners as there were for others. I felt a little abandoned by them; a similar sense of disappointment I've had before. I can only hope that at the bigger events where they have volunteers as cheer teams along the routes that I begin to feel that my efforts are recognised and rewarded, as selfish as that probably sounds.

The ten mile route passed by in a blur. It was hard, hard work and I was so glad that L was by my side. For the first time ever, in all of the runs we have completed together, L had a shoelace which simply refused to stay done up. The first time I slowed to an almost stop while she retied it, but the second and third time the crowd I was running in carried me forward, and impressively L managed to catch up each time.

Mile seven hit hard, and I had to get my head down and watch my feet moving. I repeated the RMR mantra 'Dream, Believe, Achieve' over and over in my mind, trying to convince myself that my feet were still moving and it was just my mind that had given up, not my body. I realised that the reason I had been so nervous, and felt so unprepared was simply because I wasn't as prepared as I had planned or wanted to be. The time out with an injured ankle had made a big dent in my training plan. The strength and speed that L now had was a tribute to her unrelentless commitment to her training. I didn't have that and I felt guilty, and as though I had let myself down. Emotion overcame me, and it was all I could do to swallow back the tears, and try to focus again. The crowd of supporters along the route were great; plenty of children had extended their hands in the hope of a high-5 from the runners, and they were a welcome distraction from the self doubt and negativity flooding through me.

Having my family dotted around the route gave me a much needed boost. There's nothing quite like the unconditional love they give, and as they shouted at me running past I was reminded of where the inspiration for all of this bonkers running came from. The people standing near the girls were buoyed by their energy and excitement, and joined in the cheering. I could hear my husband's voice louder than anyone else's. It wasn't that he was any louder, but it was a bit like a radio being tuned in and the distorted noise of the crowds disappeared behind his. He believed that I could do this, now I had to believe too.

We had been warned about how hard the last two miles were. GSR last year was marred by horizontal rain and gale force winds, the exposed seafront finish was the nemesis of many runners, including the elite. As we turned the corner onto the seafront, I could hear several people moaning about how bad the wind was again this year. For L and I, it was a welcome relief from the comparatively airless built up town centre, and much more like home turf. I raised my arms into my fun, aeroplane style stance and allowed the cool air to flow over me. As the negative thoughts left me, a new problem occurred. My pelvis and hips suddenly tightened, almost like a drawstring being pulled and I wasn't quite sure how to move my legs. Strangely, this physical pain was easier to overcome than the mental pain and I knew I had to refuse to give up at this point.

Once again, I heard my name being called and could see my family waving at me, telling me that I was amazing and I was nearly there. The noise of the samba band was getting closer which meant that so was the finish line. Keeping an eye on my Garmin, I could see the miles ticking away and now I knew I WAS going to do this. That finish line was mine.

With a few hundred yards to go, I searched for L's hand to hold as we crossed. Her strength and determination showed again as she shouted at me to sprint. I could feel her pulling forward and increasing her pace as she went for it. I have no idea where it came from, but I urged my legs to go as fast as they possibly could and join her in the sprint to the end. I even remembered to stop my Garmin as we went over the finish line, where the matting recorded our time from the chip secured to our shoes.

Despite wanting to stop and keel over, the marshalls shooed us on and away from the finish line, through another line of high-vis vests, ready to remove the chips from our feet. I pulled my phone out of my belt and just managed to stop /save my RunKeeper data before the battery died. As we came through the corridor created by barriers to separate the runners from spectators, I felt uneasy looking at hundreds of people rammed up against them with searching eyes. I spotted my parents with E, and went over to give her a kiss. I finally fell apart as she said "I proud you, Mummy". I kissed her through the gap and whispered to her that it was all for her... but I had to walk away to protect her from seeing Mummy with tears rolling down her face.

I collected my finisher's bag and pulled out my space blanket, too aware of the cold I was already beginning to feel. I had lost L in the crowd, and so sat in the field to stretch and to consider my next move. Without my phone I couldn't contact my family to meet them, and my mind consumed by the spasms in my back and hips I struggled to remember where they had said they would wait.

I sat on the grass alone, waiting for this new state of altered consciousness to pass, aware that I was wet and cold. My drink had gone, and I wasn't quite sure what to do next. I consoled myself by pulling the medal out of my bag, and had a moment of solitary celebration. Looking around me, I realised that the Bupa tent was infront of me but I was on the wrong side of it. Struggling to pull myself up, I hobbled past the tent and was welcomed by the sight of my family standing together, with my eldest daughter aloft on her Daddy's shoulders, eyes searching for her Mummy in the mass of shiny silver coated runners, all trying to reunite with their supporters.

They saw me, and the girls came running into my arms screaming 'You did it Mummy, you did it!!!' As quickly as it had started, it was over and my time of 1 hour 38 minutes 05 seconds was well under my 1 hour 50 minute predicted time.

The girls were right. I did it.





109.96 miles so far
890.04 to go!

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The night before the big GREAT SOUTH RUN!

So, here it is. The night before the BIG ONE!

I have been so, so nervous today and seeking solace in the quiet of The Boss' shop led to an encounter with a guy who looked so normal, and yet he had done something incredible and abnormal! His 94 marathons put my 10 mile run tomorrow into perspective. Listening to him recount just one or two tales from his 94 marathons was amusing and calming at the same time. The advice was simple - relax and enjoy. Race plan? Turn up. Smile. Start steady and wave at the TV cameras.

Preparing for tomorrow has been exhausting, simply because it has been marred by anxiety. I can't quite pinpoint the cause of the nerves. I think it is the lack of control over the sequence of events prior to the start of the run. Portsmouth can be a pain to get into on the best of days, but with an anticipated 25,000 people arriving tomorrow morning, I want to ensure that we are there in good time to find where I need to be, meet up with my friends and the RMR group, make sure my chip timing is on my shoe properly (honestly, this one little piece of card has been the source of many anxiety dreams!!), and try to enjoy the atmosphere of such a massive event.

The best news is that I am over 10% of my overall target for fundraising. My amazing extended family, many of whom are 300+ miles away have dug deep into their pockets and sponsored me. Some of them who I rarely see have told me that they are proud of me. Proud. That brings tears to my eyes... I left my home town 17 years ago this month, and I honestly didn't think that anyone would notice that I wasn't there any more.

One of my husband's colleagues has had an incredible running journey. She started running a year ago, has lost half her body weight and in the process has raised almost £2000 for the Stroke Association. She is a real inspiration - her grit and determination to succeed is evident in her 'new' body and commitment to her training despite injury. It was reassuring that she too had gone to the quiet of The Boss' place the day before the big one. It kind of made it OK that I had done the same.

One of the brilliant things about being part of an online community, the running club Run Mummy Run, is that it is easy to normalise the fears I am experiencing this evening. I couldn't count how many posts there are today about Great South Run, and all of them are reflective of the worries going through my my mind. These are an incredibly supportive group of women; they provide reassurance and solutions without judgement or trivialising genuine concerns. Next weekend there will be another wave of 'Oh my goodness tomorrow is the big one...' posts, and the ladies who have experienced GSR will share their thoughts, what helped and what didn't. Things to do, things to avoid - just as the ladies who ran Birmingham Half Marathon last weekend have helped us. The cycle provides a warm, safe environment without any 'I told you so' or negativity. If any of the RMR ladies are reading this - thank you for the support!

My husband has been the star of the show today. Not only has he cleaned the house from top to bottom so that I don't worry about it, he has taken over all parenting duties and put up with me nervously pacing and making endless lists. I've been totally free to come and go as I please, while he takes the reins of the household including making my parents welcome. They are staying with us and coming to support and assist with the children tomorrow. They probably don't think they are doing anything extraordinary, but lets face it; it takes special people to navigate the awful M25 on a regular basis to be by my side when I need them most.

All that is left to do now is to convince my two year old that yes, you do want to sleep and then try to sleep myself. I am hoping for a few hours of uninterrupted snoozing. Well, I can at least hope!

Wish me luck!

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99.83 Miles so far
900.17 to go

Invisible disability and value

Just recently, we have had a big decision to make - which High School to chose for our eldest daughter, who will be in Year 7 next year. Visiting several schools, looking at their resources and listening to their sales patter has reminded me about how people 'see' E.

If you walked passed us in the street, or saw E engaged in her education, or saw her playing at home with her younger sister, you would be forgiven for assuming that she was no different to any other 6 year old you have met. Listen to her speaking and your attention would be drawn to a difference. Play with her or try and work with her and you would begin to see her disability.

The different approaches to SEN in High Schools and the language they attach to children (or should they be students after Year 6?) with SENs, or the provisions they have for them intrigue me. Rooms set aside for inclusion mystify me; surely by removing a child from a class gives a wonderful oxymoron: an inclusion room for those excluded from others. A Motivation Unit where the SEN Team is based; I couldn't help but feel I could use a motivation unit in my life! Who doesn't?

Worst of all was the prospectus of a new academy being built in the town. My heart sank and my anger rose as I read the words "no provision for people with SEND". I can't believe that this is even allowed, and I certainly would not be sending any of my daughters (even if we didn't have the personal experience of E within our family) where any one group of people could so openly be excluded. E definitely has trouble with communicating and understanding, but she is still a valuable member of our family. We wouldn't be who we are without her. By excluding this group of people from their school, they are missing out on an opportunity. Open your eyes and heart and you will be enriched by the company of my girl. She has taught me more about compassion, patience and care than I EVER learnt at school or University.

I listened to my friend's 5 year old reading in the library this week. That afternoon, after much gentle coercion I listened to E read. Before you even get a book out, a process, a routine or a ritual must be followed to enable E to engage in a task. This doesn't happen so much in school time, but arguably the institution of education instils routine from a very young age. So we settle onto the sofa, and again another routine has to be followed. I start a sentence, E whispers some of the words until eventually her words dilute mine and I can become the listener, not the reader. Another part of her routine involves certain noises she makes, an unusual laugh or more often tears of frustrating fear. Of course, my friend's daughter followed a process that I have indeed been through with E's elder siblings - you know, the usual argument of asking to listen to you read, no you need to read first, read to me, no pudding after dinner without reading first.. the normal parent / child argument. These battles frustrate us all but oh, how I wish I could have a 'normal' parent / child argument with E.

While it isn't always healthy to draw comparison between children, it certainly isn't something that I can avoid. I listened to E read with a bit of an heavy heart that afternoon. To hear her stumble over the most simple words time and again is not only heartbreaking but also frustrating. These past few weeks haven't been quite as bad. Sometimes we see her lovely sense of humour, like sunshine peeking through the clouds, as she giggles at her mistakes. I wish that teaching E how to love was enough to get her through each day. As we have looked at schools, as we listen at parent's evening in her Year 2 SATs year, and as we chose a Junior School for her, we are made aware once again of the tick box requirements of OFSTED. We are told that she 'did not meet the standard required' in her phonics test and will need to resit it in the summer term. The comparison is already made for us by the powers that be who decide what level her learning should be assessed at by the end of this academic year. Of course, they don't look at the progress she has made, or the starting point, or the dedication shown by the SENCo at her school. Just which box she fits. With a complex, disordered learning disability like E's, she doesn't fit into any one box. That makes teaching her difficult, it makes parenting her challenging.

If the suit who devised these assessments would ever like to cast his shadow onto my doorstep, I can show him the one box E does fit into. It is the one place she can be every part of who she is; scared, frustrated, happy, struggling, progressing, learning... everything. That one place is home; the one place I can guarantee she will be enveloped in love and acceptance.

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GSR is approaching... time to plan big!

Great South Run is a mere 8 days away, and despite feeling ready for the big day I don't entirely feel prepared. My last long run of the training plan last weekend, 8.2 miles, was hard work. The difference between getting out four times a week and getting out as and when I can has been a HUGE lesson. I have definitely dropped form, and with this comes big mental blocks of 'I can't do this'. This feeling wasn't so evident while I was with L, she really keeps me going, but I am concerned that the negativity is going to hit me during the race - both in my head and in my legs.

GSR has in previous years, been blighted by bad weather, the wind (not from the runners!) has been a challenge - especially considering the coastal setting. With this in mind, my race plan is simple. To steal Nike's captioning... Just Do It!

After a week or two of gentle recovery running, my intention is to get back on it. My next big run is Brighton Half Marathon in February. I've also registered for the Brooks Brighton 10k in November, but I feel confident with this distance and the Half Marathon training will account for this. There are several training plans available online which I have looked at, but they all seem so impersonal.

I'll have to openly admit to being a bit fickle. I have some brilliant ideas at times (well, I think they are), I fling myself at it 100% but get bored quickly and stop. I made tiaras for a while, got quite a few bridal orders and was attending plenty of wedding fayres and getting to know a few people in the industry. I'm not sure if it was too easy, too hard or what but I quit fairly early on.

Knowing my tendency for flamboyancy, I approached running with caution, and at times I have wondered if it is just going to be another one of 'those' projects. The blog, my Facebook Page, my family & friends' support, along with encouragement from The Boss seem to be preventing that happening. I am absolutely committed to completing the 1000 Miles not only to the best of my abilities, but also safely. I wanted to put that out there, publicly, to make sure I don't quit... a bit like an insurance policy.

Running safely has to be a priority for me. In just a few months, I have already experienced injury and I am keen to stay as injury free as possible. The other 'safely' I need to consider is fuelling my runs. I'm a picky eater, and left to my own devices without children to cook for, I would live on Dairy Milk, crisps and full fat Coca-Cola. Confessing this to The Boss resulted in raised eyebrows! I am one of those 'lucky' people who has never had to give much consideration to what I eat, so I am in unfamiliar territory now thinking about calories and making sure my daily intake is not only enough, but also replaces the calories I am burning on long runs (more dairy milk for me hahaha!).

So, it is here in black and white. I promise I will fuel my running properly, look after myself, and listen to what The Boss is telling me. I can't promise to always do as I am told, but hey. Life would be boring without mischief!

Long Runday Sunday... and the two annoying things were...

... people and their dogs!

Oh. My. Goodness. I can't say that I'm a dog lover, but I don't mind them. By mile four of today's run though I was close to hating every dog and its owner. Actually, that is unfair. There were some cute puppies out there and some nice, responsible dog owners. They were the ones who had their pets either on leads or secure.

The rest of them, well they are lucky that their pampered pooches didn't end up flying through the air as I tripped over them. As for the people who can't be bothered to pick up the poo off the pavements, or hid it under leaves; you are the most disgusting creatures out there.

We ran along the seafront today, a nice wide open space with plenty of room for all to share - walkers, children on their bikes and scooters, adults on skates, skateboards and runners. Our path narrows as it is sandwiched between the beach and the overdeveloped area near the sailing club, but there are still plenty of people out enjoying the fresh air. Everyone has a right to use this public space, but there are some ignorant and selfish individuals out there who don't give a damn if they obstruct the pathway or not. I appreciate that if we come up behind someone that they don't hear us, or don't have time to move, fair enough. But people who are walking four abreast and are watching you run towards them, and still don't drop in behind one another to allow adequate space on the footpath are rude. Just rude.

At one point today, L and I were in a good pace and we could see several people in the middle of the path, not one of them moved to allow us (or anyone else!) through. L had to run on the beach pebbles, I went to the other side of them, on the grass. Stupidly, these people did not keep their dogs secure as we passed and I had to make a sudden stop as a small-breed-pooch suddenly appeared at my feet. I felt my ankle take the full impact of this, and immediately tighten. I was really annoyed!!

Another dog owner thought it was a good idea to throw the dog's ball from behind us to land at L's feet. We are lucky that neither L or the dog were injured as she dodged it.

The ignorant. selfish people are fortunately in the minority. Most people were pleasant, smiley and had the common sense to share the footpath with all of the other people who were using it. However, the rant reflects those who were most memorable, and if my ankle flares up because of one person being careless and selfish then I will not be best pleased. And maybe, just maybe, next time I won't stop....

Miles to date: 90.42
Miles to go: 909.58

A slight change of plan... No, you didn't read the Blog name incorrectly and it isn't a typo!

What's another 900 miles between friends?!

Inspired by a Twitter encounter, I started thinking about how far I am running. 100 miles in registered events is a big commitment, but the biggest commitment is the training runs that I'm doing out in all weathers! It seemed strangely unjust that the training miles aren't included so... here is the challenge... 1000 running miles starting with Great South Run (and training) and this will complete with the next GSR in 2015. 

I am slightly sad, however, that my GSR training so far has only amounted to 82.21 miles. Since starting running in March this year, Runkeeper tells me I have already completed 256 miles. This gives me perspective to my new, huge, challenge of 1000 miles.

What I'd really love now is for the challenge to be recognised by Great Ormond Street. I may not fundraise millions for them, but the challenge is massive considering I have only been running a short amount of time and looking back at my history of chronic pain and immobility after having E. 

I am so, so pleased that my blog has been viewed so many times - thank you to @Run_Mummy_Run and @UKRunChat for the ReTweets and hello to all of the Tweeps who are reading. I hope I can keep all of my 'audience' (seems a strange choice of word, but I can't think of a better one!) entertained and moved by the account of a rambling mother of 4. I also hope to share some of the new things I am learning about E's learning disability.

I have got a long run planned with my buddy this morning. She was going to leave her boys and husband at a lovely seafront cafe and then run home. I have managed to convince her that it is a much better idea to run to the cafe and then eat our own body weight in bacon butties! 

Under managerial instructions to eat and hydrate properly (yes, husband I mean you bossing me about this morning!), I am preparing for an 8 mile run today. Wish us luck!

Running Fast and Running Far

This weekend has been the test of my newly-diagnosed calcaneofibular ligament injury. It has been taped into a supportive position for a few days, and yesterday was the first day my physio allowed me to run.

I have followed his advice religiously, and have braved a different type of ice bucket challenge! Two minutes in ice and two minutes in hot water for a total of twenty minutes, much to the daughters' amusement as I squeal a little with the iced water! I've found the ice really painful, almost unbearable, and have been watching the time tick down knowing that the warmth will soon follow.

I have also followed regimental resistance exercises, using a large rubber band type thingy and being very careful to control each movement rather than allowing my foot to 'ping' back into a neutral position. That is harder than it sounds!

Friday had a very large, grey cloud of doubt over it. My ankle was really achy, and it was beginning to feel very uncomfortable to walk. I was desperate to get out and run on Saturday, needing to run off the stresses of the week, and there I was sat with my foot aloft and tears flowing.

Saturday came, and after a busy day with the girls I had to run. An amusing text message conversation with The Boss ensued before I went out:

Me: I'm off out for a run, got to get out
Boss: OK, go easy and let me know how the ankle is. What's the plan?
Me; To run! weeeeeeeeeee aeroplane arms!!!
Boss: Really? Do you think that's a good idea?
Me: I think it is a bloody marvellous idea darling!!!
Boss: I think we should talk about this first....

Feeling mischievous, I set off with slim intentions of holding back or taking it easy. My justification is that I have to balance my mental health with my physical health and I needed to go. Despite feeling a drop in my fitness levels, my legs carried me off into a 7.30 minute / mile. Lungs objecting, I held back a bit fearing I wouldn't make a complete 2 mile circuit at that speed. My pace settled into around a 9 minute / mile and with feeling more comfortable, I diverted away from the turning which would take me on the shorter 2 mile route, and found myself in the familiar territory of my normal 5k. I knew I was potentially pushing my luck with running further than planned, and not knowing how the ankle injury was going to hold up but my ever supportive husband was on stand-by to collect me if I needed him to. Spurred on by my Garmin beeping 'Ahead of Pace' at me, I allowed myself to run freely. After all, I was listening to my body, wasn't I?!

Feeling a twinge of discomfort in my ankle, my sensible head took over and instead of completing my 5k route (which involves a steady hill climb at the end) I ran along the flat. My burning lungs only inflamed my anger at my loss of fitness so I pushed as hard as I dare. 23mins 52seconds later, I allowed myself to stop and walked up my hill to warm down. My lovely family were waiting for me, the girls ready with a whoop and a cheer and Husband ready with an ice bucket.... not to tip over my head but to dunk my foot in!

The following morning, my ankle was stiff but not painful. The planned long run of 7 miles felt like a big question mark looming over me. I had a couple of invitations to run with friends, but my legs wanted to go ASAP and I needed to know if I could do this or not. This run would be crucial in my decision to go ahead with Great South Run or not.

Route planned, drink in hand, I set off feeling slightly daunted at the distance I was about to attempt. I was careful not to set off too fast,aware that I needed to save both my ankle and my stamina for 7 miles. Potentially 7 long miles.

I ran down to the seafront, and was surprised at how quickly I was there. Another family favourite place where we've only ever driven to. The morning sun made the water sparkle, and the beautiful view was a welcome distraction. I found myself thinking about how much I liked living by the sea, despite a passionate hatred of swimming and getting wet!

Before I knew it, I had turned the corner to start my homeward bound leg of my journey. I even managed to answer a telephone call from my brother-in-law while running! Feeling like I was on my way home eased the 5k block. My body must be too used to running this distance because it expects me to stop! Keeping going is a bit of a challenge, but it is another mental strength which needs exercising as much as the legs!

5 and 7 miles were worrying from a pain point of view. My ankle was really objecting, but I had really settled into the run and I wasn't ready to go home. The morning air was warming but still fresh, and my mind felt free of stress and worry. I felt like I could go on a lot, lot longer.... Let's just hope I feel like this in 2 weeks time at Great South Run!

Following my new experience of running long distance came another new experience... an ice BATH. I'll leave that one to your imagination!

Down but not out

So, it has been a while since I last wrote anything, and it has been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster during that time.

After a disappointment at E's hospital appointment, I was ready to give up and walk away from everything. Including running. Maybe it was a way of throwing out a punishment - I was prepared to run 100 extra miles, why weren't they?

Time brings reflection and perspective to my feelings. Our visit to GOSH actually highlighted to me how desperately they need fundraisers, like me, who are prepared to go the extra mile. Trying to squash highly specialised services into an ancient building cannot be easy. Providing adequate space for wheelchair users in a building dating back to the 1800's is a daunting task for even the most capable architects. Playworkers, able to entertain any children are a gift to any outpatients department, but people with the skills to diversify play for children with complex difficulties, to respond to their needs and allay the fears of the accompanying parents / carers cannot be expected to fulfill their roles without the appropriate training and equipment. Too much of a hospital is not funded by the NHS and so fundraising becomes not just useful, but vital to keep the service running on a day-to-day basis.

Supported by my running buddy, L, I got back out on the road. I owe you one for that Sunday run, L! This lovely lady quite literally ran her legs off to get me back out on the road and stopped me wallowing in self pity. Our run, just short of 5 miles along a cool seafront with the night drawing in, took L to something like 15km that weekend. It was just what I needed though; to be reminded how much strength I have now compared to 7 months ago. This is the strength I need to draw upon to keep myself fighting for the very best for E.

My other strong supporter is The Boss. Still (somehow!) putting up with my incessant worrying, G has been a consistent reminder of where I have come from, and, most importantly, where I am going. He reminded me that running is so much more than fundraising; that the time I am out running has become a key part of who I am, and how I can deal with being a parent and a carer. I am so pleased that he is also back out there, running and feeling stronger. I can understand now that need to pull on a pair of trainers and just to be free, and the sparkle in his eyes when he's telling me that he's running farther and feeling stronger reflects the way I feel, too.

My lovely husband will always be at my side, in so many ways. He allowed me to sob, to shout, to be down and I know that as a team, we will get through everything that is thrown at us.

Of course, the story can't be that simple and tickety-boo. Back on a running high, I focused myself onto training for Great South Run and my self-set official beginning of the 100 Mile Running Challenge. I had a niggling ankle pain while I was training for my first 10k back in July, but it hasn't bothered me since. In the last couple of weeks it has become increasingly uncomfortable. Not so bad when I'm running, but getting towards painful when at rest. Back to bothering G with my worries about what I could have done to it, and turning to my closest friend, who had survived a foot problem while training for her marathon.

Her recommendation was to see the same physio she had. Fearing the worst, I made an appointment and Husband commented that it must be bad for me to get checked out! The news wasn't all bad, though. A fairly straightforward ligament injury which should be healed with specific resistance exercises, heat / ice and rest. He applied ultrasound to break up the granulation I have from the interrupted healing process and sent me away with some very pretty bright pink K-Tape to stabilize the joint. So, now not only do I owe L for running with me, I also owe M for getting me to pull my finger out and have my ankle looked at, rather than hiding in denial. Mojitos, anyone?!