I haven't blogged since the Great South Run, and to be truthful I haven't run much either. I'm sad and annoyed that the running has taken such a big hit, but life seems to have dealt me with a big hit too.
GSR was a huge achievement. I ran it having lost a couple of weeks of crucial training to the ankle injury, my time wasn't bad for a first time attempt at 10 miles and I completed the whole course without stopping. Why it didn't feel like an achievement, I couldn't say. I really hit the wall at 7 miles and struggled to keep going for the final 3 miles, including what I can only describe as a purse-string of pain in my pelvis and back. Had my running buddy not been beside me, I would've stopped. It really dented my confidence, I've doubted my ability to run any further and in turn I've shied away from my usual love of getting out there.
November brought with it an obvious change of the season. I can run in the cold, I can run in the rain. I do not like running in the dark! Paul's hours have been crazy recently too, and I have used just about every excuse under the sun (and the moon!) to not go out.
On November the 10th, my beloved pet cat of 16 years passed away. I knew that when the time came, I would find it hard to say goodbye to him, but I honestly didn't expect the strength of feelings and grief in the days following. I was very attached to him, and he had comforted me through some really tough times. It felt so wrong, and the house very empty without him. The decision to put him to sleep was utterly heartbreaking, and in the end despite it being the final act of kindness, I felt really guilty. He was a real gentleman, he never hurt me or any of the children; he was a very special member of the family who gave us all so much love and happy memories.
The week before my boy cat passed away, I was driving the car with all four children when a motorbike was hit by another car right in front of us. The motorcyclist went through the air and landed a few feet in front of us. Luckily I was driving slowly and easily stopped my car. I got out and attended to the unconscious man, and stayed with him as he came around. We couldn't leave the scene of the collision for some time while I gave my details to the police and the area was made safe for me to move my car. The girls were absolutely amazing; the older girls looked after and reassured the little ones, and stayed safely in the car. They told me later how proud they were of their Mummy helping the man who had bumped his head, and seemed surprisingly unperturbed about that evening's chaos.
It wasn't until life started to get back to normal that I realised how shocked I was by both of these events. I stood at the kitchen sink crying on the Tuesday lunch time and became aware of a noise that I've never heard before. It took a moment for me to realise that the noise was me, and I wasn't just crying but sobbing hard. If you've ever woken yourself up with your own snoring (not me, of course! Ahem...) it was a moment like that. I had surprised myself and at the same time realised how much I was hurting.
The week got easier as it passed, and somehow that one week has turned into almost three weeks. I am yet to get into bed and fall asleep without staring at the ceiling for at least 2 hours. The emotional and physical exhaustion is a daily battle, and the biggest cause for my running mojo hiding somewhere I can't find.
My fabulous running buddy hasn't let me get away with too much. I joined her on the start line of the Brooks 10km in Brighton feeling very fragile. I hadn't eaten or slept for the preceding six days, and was dubious if I should've even been there. It is a lovely course though, and not only did my husband and children cheer me on, I was also supported by my dearest friend and her two children. Their cheers and high fives moved me to tears; I can't begin to explain how uplifting it was to have them there. L and I stormed around the route, both achieving PBs for 10k. It was a good job she was there at the end, as when my Garmin beeped at me that it was a new record, I crumbled into her arms crying once again. I will go back next year and run it again, hopefully in full fitness and in full health.
We ran together again on a very wet Sunday afternoon, and despite the downpour, it was a really good run. We laughed, I cried a bit, and we laughed some more. We splashed through puddles and screamed as the cold water hit our legs, and I think there may have been aeroplane arms too... If M&S made Long Sunday Runs, this would be one of them!
So, the next challenge I face is the Crowborough 10k tomorrow. The race description says it is 'slightly undulating'. The online reviews say it is the toughest 10k in Sussex, with a stream to run through at the bottom of the course. For the first time in almost three weeks, I feel as though I have something to look forward to. This will be the day where I get back to being a runner.
