Sunday 8 March 2015

Finally, some good news to share.

The last time I posted, I was out of the Half Marathon. That weekend was a huge mixture of emotions. I was grumpy, defiant, sad and proud of my friend's achievements all at once. I arranged to go and spend the day with my brother and his partner to take my mind off it, but instead I found myself clock watching, and working out if the girls would be through safely. I spent too much time refreshing my RunKeeper feed, impatiently waiting for updates. I also felt guilty for not being there to cheer them on and hug them at the end.

As it turned out, it was the right thing to do for more than one reason. While at my brother's house, we received the phone call we had been anticipating for a while. Paul's Grandad's health had been deteriorating over the past few weeks and that Sunday was the time to say goodbye. We went to the nursing home and sat with him for a while. Grandad was a fairly small man, but my word he was strong. His handshake crushed the bones of a giant, and yet he held all four of my babies with such care. Grandad passed away three days later, peacefully with his devoted daughter by his side.

Paul's Grandparents lived full lives. They worked, they travelled, they experienced life together. It was only in their later years did they ever express frustration at not being able to go somewhere far away again. Paul's Grandmother passed away three years ago; she was a formidable yet kind lady and we miss them both terribly.

As we came away from the nursing home, I started thinking about how fragile life really is. I owed it to all of those we had loved and lost to live my own life to the full, to seize opportunities and make the most of what I have. I don't want to look back with regret. I knew that day, with the emotions of missing out on the Half completely rationalised and minimised by what - or who - was really important, that I had to do the marathon. I have the opportunity, I have to at least try.

Later that week, I was tearfully talking with my best friend about everything that had happened or was about to happen. We talked about running; she had obviously given it a great deal of careful thought, and she had a plan to get me around the marathon. We had a conversation that I really wish we had much sooner, but better late than never, and it meant we could go forward to the marathon as a team along with her running buddy. The diaries were out, and with a hot coffee and a good helping of cake, the training runs were planned.

I just needed to get back out there and run.

I looked at the plans for the following eight weeks with wide eyes. There was a lot to think about (which means worrying for me!) and I now had to get my head back around training for a marathon in a short space of time, as well as E having grommets put in under GA and her big assessment at Great Ormond Street.

The first couple of runs didn't fill me with confidence. My knee hurt. A lot. It isn't just an ache that goes away with paracetamol, but a hot, sharp, knife through your leg kind of pain. It is really, really hard to ignore or to be mentally stronger than. Hobbling home after a 4 mile effort at some kind of movement that wasn't walking, I cried on Paul's shoulder at what I could only see as a failure. The next run was a team effort with the marathon girls, and a new ITB strap. I suprised myself at running for over an hour, only stopping to stretch my knee out which was more relief than just walking.

With my parents here to help with childcare, I could get out again but with Paul by my side on his bicycle. Another 7 miler, and while my knee was reasonable I felt like I was dragging my backside behind me. The effort was incredible; I was tired and my pace was snail-like. I hated every minute.

The following day, we sat beside E in hospital. The pride surged through me as she took it all in her stride, telling me that she was going to be brave. The operation to insert grommets was successful, and she woke up from the anaesthetic really well. I was worried about her waking up the most of all, especially as we have such trouble in the mornings. Back on the ward, I looked at my little girl sleeping in a hospital bed, with her tiny hand bandaged to protect the cannula. Again life seemed so precious, and so fragile. I can't imagine being without any of my girls, and handing E's very existence over to the Theatre team was probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I was overwhelmed with good wishes from family and friends, so many people care for her. As we came home from hospital, we began to realise how this procedure was going to open up the world to her. Startled by a noise, she asked what it was. I told her that was her tummy rumbling and she giggled. Something so simple, so familiar and yet this seemed to be the first time she'd heard it. The next day was like watching E take her first steps again as she experienced new sounds; cucumber and crisps crunching, her name being whispered, the squeak of the trolley wheels... So many ordinary things, yet new and extraordinary too.

The first weekend long run was approached with nerves. Recent events spurred me on, and reminded me of how committed I am to not only being at the start line of the marathon. but also crossing the finish line. I ran the first 6 miles with the marathon girls, and was met by my knight and his trusty steed (Paul on his bike!) to accompany me the rest of the way home. Incredibly I completed my 11 miles without stopping to stretch my knee out. My pace is nowhere near as quick as I was pre-injury but I honestly don't care. My knee injury, Grandad and E have given me a totally new perspective on running. In a way, I wish I had this perspective all the way along, but in the last year I have learnt a huge amount about myself, and I don't think I would change it.

Finishing 11 miles is only a proportion of what I need to achieve in 5 weeks time. I already feel like I have come such a long way and while the rest of the training is daunting, I feel ready to tackle it. I can't wait to get back on the road with my running buddy despite worries that my new snail pace will hold her back.

Three weeks ago I was ready to defer my marathon place and to have a good think about not running at all. Without that tearful conversation with my lovely best friend, I wouldn't be writing this now. She has a lot to answer for!!! And what about now? Well, now is about living, about being really full of determination and ready to embrace whatever comes next.









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