Sunday's long run was looking daunting having missed a couple of runs due to the lingering cough I've had. I could've easily backed out of it, but instead I pinged a message off to my buddy to see if she was heading out. I was relieved to find that she was feeling the same as me and our route was soon planned.
We headed off in the freezing cold, but bright morning sunshine. I don't think I have ever been outside in temperatures as low as 4 degrees in so little clothing... I had in my mind that I really wanted to get to my planned 7 miles done but considering the recent illness I wouldn't give myself a hard time if I only made 6. It was good to be running with L again, the running seemed to flow as well as the conversation, which in turn helped the miles pass by. That doesn't mean that I didn't hit the figurative wall. Several times. But one of the best things about running with a buddy is that the wall is easier to conquer. Our route was adapted as we went along, and we must've felt confident in ourselves as the alteration extended the distance to at least 9 miles. The last couple of miles were harder than hard, and at one point after stopping to cross a road, I really didn't think they were going to start again, but they did. Not only did we complete the 9 miles, we were close to 10. So we did what all crazy, number obsessed runners do... we went around the block and passed the first house I ever owned to finish the mile and by the time we were back at L's house we had clocked up a wonderful, leg breaking 10.36 miles.
It took me a couple of hours to defrost at home. I was so thankful for the support of my husband as he not only gave me the time to be out and running, but then the time to sit under blankets waiting for my hands to return to pink from the fetching bluey / purple they had turned. (Note to self: wear gloves.) The warm-up time gave me time to look over the mileage I had achieved so far, and with help from the eldest daughters and their calculators, we worked out that I had completed 199.09 miles to date. So, so close to 200. There was only one thing to do. With the eldest girls shrieking in excitement and delight, the running shoes were pulled on once more then the three of us headed out to finish the last mile and together we took it to 200 miles done.
Monday was soon here which meant the Christmas holidays were well and truly over, with husband back at work and the girls preparing to go back to school the next day. Not the ideal time to have a mini-interview with a reporter from the local newspaper, but a true reflection of the chaos we exist in! It was easy to talk about E and the running challenge, it isn't until I start talking out loud about it that I realise how passionate I am about what I am doing.
With the girls back at school on Tuesday I had time to reflect on the holidays. When E is out of school, we see a very different little girl. The tiredness of working hard to hear, understand and achieve at school gradually dissipates to reveal a funny, cheeky and very loving side to her. The tantrums and outbursts are less, the happy play times are more. We all relax, and in turn so does she. I love those times. Preparing myself for the school week is how I would imagine a knight constructing his armour to protect himself from all that is fired at him. Layer upon layer of emotional defences to safeguard myself and those closest to me from the battles we face every day in the pursuit of whatever we perceive at that time to be best for E.
The chaos that usually surrounds us as a working family continued after school. E returns to a tired, anxious state much faster than she recovers from it, but the difference we are beginning to see is how she copes with it much better now than she did even six months ago. With a piano lesson in one room, and a stranger with a huge camera (and even bigger lens!) in the dining room, I could've potentially created a situation which caused a huge meltdown for E. No, she took it in her stride, and even posed for the photo to accompany the article for the local paper. I could have melted with a mixture of relief and pride.
The next mountain to conquer was my own battle, rather than E's. I reminded myself of the ethos of the challenge, this was never supposed to be easy, if it was it wouldn't reflect the struggles E faces every day. After running 11 miles on Sunday, a day at home with all 4 girls on Monday and then the mayhem after school, I still needed to stick to plan and run 5 miles. It was so hard to get out of the door, so I enlisted my fast-paced friend to run with me. Again it was easier than being alone, but I could feel the 10 miles in my legs like lead weights. I did it though, and the legs felt lighter and less tight by then end of the run which surprised me. I did learn that I need to seriously increase my calories and fluids in the day to continue running at this level. My next piece of homework awaits.
The challenge continued into Wednesday when my training plan was telling me I need to go out and run 7 miles. Route planned, husband home a little earlier than usual and I headed out once again into the freezing cold. No sunshine to cheer me up this time, no running buddy to keep me going. Just me, the pavement, and some music to distract me. The heaviness in my legs was back and a heaviness in my mind made the run drag. It was cold, windy and hard work. Thinking of E kept me going, telling myself that the hard runs would prepare me for the marathon carried my feet forward one step after the other. What it didn't do was stop me running my planned route in reverse order, missing out a mile. This time though, the crazy runner obsessed with numbers was happy to have completed a third run in four days. This was enough for me. For now.
The newspaper article was published today. I'm guessing many people would see that and think that I would be happiest about the publicity for the challenge, the potential for fundraising, the profile of invisible disabilities being raised. Of course, I am grateful for all of that. The Worthing Herald have given me more than that, and I now have a photograph of me with E where she looks calm, happy and relaxed. And only I know what was happening in the background, and how her smile represents far more than a pretty little girl smiling for the camera.
Thursday, 8 January 2015
Monday, 29 December 2014
Marathon training starts.... NOW! Oh. My. Days.
It wasn't long ago that both Brighton Half and full Marathons were events that were happening sometime in the future, that I would think about (read: worry) after Christmas. After all, Christmas was aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaages away and so there was no need to think, worry or plan for it too much.
Except Christmas came around and went again very, very quickly. And all of a sudden there is a self-styled marathon training plan blu-tacked to my kitchen cupboard. Now it is looming over me like a large, grey cloud filled with self-doubt and fear.
I went to see The Boss at the end of last week, taking along with me the Bupa training plan I had downloaded off t'internet. I was never that happy with it - I felt that it was too generic and prescriptive for Joe Bloggs. Having only really glanced at it (I was quite happy in denial that this was ever really happening) I hadn't noticed that the Long Sunday Runs (LSRs) weren't really that long at all. He confirmed that it was a bit light, and gave me some homework to research various published plans and to take out the bits I liked to personalise my own plan.
I worked hard on a 15 week plan, incorporating the Half Marathon too and I think I've got it. Even though I have written it myself, it is still as intimidating as picking up Tolstoy's War and Peace for the first time. I tapped into huge sources of running information and then the Run Mummy Run and UKRunChat communities both helped pull it apart and put it back together again. One or two 'armchair critics' were harsh in their comments, but like most things in life they had to be filtered out and the kindness of others focussd on.
There is a huge amount of work involved in not just getting around the two courses, but getting around safely and not too slowly. Time probably shouldn't be too much of a consideration, and my priority is to finish in one piece, however I still have time targets in mind. This has helped customise the plan which incorporates cross training, core strength, hill repeats and various levels of running efforts.
Seeing the commitment I need to do this well is frightening. I will never forget the pride I felt in my friend as she crossed the finish lines of the Half and Marathons last year, but I don't think I fully appreciated how much work she had put into being there. My biggest concern is that I am not going to be able to fulfil the training required; it is so difficult to get out in the weekdays which I must do to build the strength and fitness I need for the LSRs, and ultimately for the 26.2 mile slog in April. I know that I have two options: do it well, or bow out. I am not giving up so I need to (wo)man up and get on with it!
The running buggy is fixed and ready to go. The bike is oiled and ready to go. The treadmill is up and ready for the shorter runs when I haven't been able to run outside. My drawer is stuffed full of running kit. My parents have bought me a subscription to Runner's World for Christmas which is packed full of nutrition, tips, help and advice.
So, this is it. No excuses. Marathon training is here.....hold my hand please - I'm going to need it!
Facebook Page
JustGiving Page
Except Christmas came around and went again very, very quickly. And all of a sudden there is a self-styled marathon training plan blu-tacked to my kitchen cupboard. Now it is looming over me like a large, grey cloud filled with self-doubt and fear.
I went to see The Boss at the end of last week, taking along with me the Bupa training plan I had downloaded off t'internet. I was never that happy with it - I felt that it was too generic and prescriptive for Joe Bloggs. Having only really glanced at it (I was quite happy in denial that this was ever really happening) I hadn't noticed that the Long Sunday Runs (LSRs) weren't really that long at all. He confirmed that it was a bit light, and gave me some homework to research various published plans and to take out the bits I liked to personalise my own plan.
I worked hard on a 15 week plan, incorporating the Half Marathon too and I think I've got it. Even though I have written it myself, it is still as intimidating as picking up Tolstoy's War and Peace for the first time. I tapped into huge sources of running information and then the Run Mummy Run and UKRunChat communities both helped pull it apart and put it back together again. One or two 'armchair critics' were harsh in their comments, but like most things in life they had to be filtered out and the kindness of others focussd on.
There is a huge amount of work involved in not just getting around the two courses, but getting around safely and not too slowly. Time probably shouldn't be too much of a consideration, and my priority is to finish in one piece, however I still have time targets in mind. This has helped customise the plan which incorporates cross training, core strength, hill repeats and various levels of running efforts.
Seeing the commitment I need to do this well is frightening. I will never forget the pride I felt in my friend as she crossed the finish lines of the Half and Marathons last year, but I don't think I fully appreciated how much work she had put into being there. My biggest concern is that I am not going to be able to fulfil the training required; it is so difficult to get out in the weekdays which I must do to build the strength and fitness I need for the LSRs, and ultimately for the 26.2 mile slog in April. I know that I have two options: do it well, or bow out. I am not giving up so I need to (wo)man up and get on with it!
The running buggy is fixed and ready to go. The bike is oiled and ready to go. The treadmill is up and ready for the shorter runs when I haven't been able to run outside. My drawer is stuffed full of running kit. My parents have bought me a subscription to Runner's World for Christmas which is packed full of nutrition, tips, help and advice.
So, this is it. No excuses. Marathon training is here.....hold my hand please - I'm going to need it!
Facebook Page
JustGiving Page
Saturday, 27 December 2014
Running on a dreadmill. Treadmill, I mean TREADmill.
The Christmas holidays aren't all about Christmas in our house, they're mostly about birthdays! I am very lucky that my family don't allow my birthday to be lost in all of the festive fun, and I try to ensure that our eldest daughter has a non-Christmassy birthday too.
My mum and dad-in-law are always very generous, and with the money they gave me this year I bought a second hand treadmill. I have never been a gym girl, so have no experience of running on a treadmill and expected little of it. I have struggled to get out for the weekday runs, so I thought this would be the answer to running in the dark, or not running at all.
So, today was the day that the treadmill was fired up for a proper run. That is, a run-run not a ooh-lets-play-with-the-new-toy-run in pyjamas and reindeer slippers. It was certainly easier to get ready for, I slung on a t-shirt and shorts with my trusty Brooks and not the 3 layers I have been accustomed to in recent weeks. Within a couple of minutes I realised that a)this was harder than I thought it would be and b)I was too hot. Luckily for me, the only other person in the room was my 11 year old, who was nominated as drink bottle holder, when I decided to take off my t-shirt. An excellent idea. However, missing in the thought process was to get off the treadmill... with the t-shirt half over my head, I heard my daughter say "Mummy! You're going to...." The words 'fall' and 'off' coincided with my bottom-first exit off the treadmill with a little squeal as I tried desperately hard not to do some kind of backwards roll.... Had this not been the third time in as many weeks that I have fallen over, off or into various household objects it would've been hilarious. I will settle for slightly comical and hope that as many things come in threes, that I have had my lot and I will stay upright from now on!
Back to the treadmill. It was boring as hell. I really missed the distractions of running outside - the Christmas lights, gardens, houses with lights on and curtains open. I found I needed to focus on something very still (in this case the plug socket as there was little else to look at), as the bouncing made me feel like I was on a boat. I now understand why gyms have air con; I was hot. Really, really hot. Running in my dining room was similar to running in the summer when it was airless and stuffy. It was very strange not being able to adjust my pace without pressing a button, and I really noticed how much I vary despite having quite a consistent pace recorded on both my Garmin and RunKeeper. The time I was running for dragged, I think the boredom of looking at a white wall made this worse, compounded with the display ticking away right in font of me. I was continuously changing the display mode so I didn't fixate on the time. At the end of my run I slowed right down to a gentle walk, but this didn't prevent the feeling of still moving once I had stopped. Despite all of this I ran 5km in 24minutes 35seconds, which is my fastest time by over a minute. I'm not going to get too excited by this though, as I'm pretty sure this wouldn't translate onto a road run and I'm not claiming a PB until it does.
The best news is that I didn't cough after the run. Tomorrow I will run outside again and this will give me the answer The Boss needed today - am I well enough to embark on a rigourous sub 2hour Half Marathon training plan over the next 8 weeks?
Keep your fingers crossed....... but don't fall over!
My mum and dad-in-law are always very generous, and with the money they gave me this year I bought a second hand treadmill. I have never been a gym girl, so have no experience of running on a treadmill and expected little of it. I have struggled to get out for the weekday runs, so I thought this would be the answer to running in the dark, or not running at all.
So, today was the day that the treadmill was fired up for a proper run. That is, a run-run not a ooh-lets-play-with-the-new-toy-run in pyjamas and reindeer slippers. It was certainly easier to get ready for, I slung on a t-shirt and shorts with my trusty Brooks and not the 3 layers I have been accustomed to in recent weeks. Within a couple of minutes I realised that a)this was harder than I thought it would be and b)I was too hot. Luckily for me, the only other person in the room was my 11 year old, who was nominated as drink bottle holder, when I decided to take off my t-shirt. An excellent idea. However, missing in the thought process was to get off the treadmill... with the t-shirt half over my head, I heard my daughter say "Mummy! You're going to...." The words 'fall' and 'off' coincided with my bottom-first exit off the treadmill with a little squeal as I tried desperately hard not to do some kind of backwards roll.... Had this not been the third time in as many weeks that I have fallen over, off or into various household objects it would've been hilarious. I will settle for slightly comical and hope that as many things come in threes, that I have had my lot and I will stay upright from now on!
Back to the treadmill. It was boring as hell. I really missed the distractions of running outside - the Christmas lights, gardens, houses with lights on and curtains open. I found I needed to focus on something very still (in this case the plug socket as there was little else to look at), as the bouncing made me feel like I was on a boat. I now understand why gyms have air con; I was hot. Really, really hot. Running in my dining room was similar to running in the summer when it was airless and stuffy. It was very strange not being able to adjust my pace without pressing a button, and I really noticed how much I vary despite having quite a consistent pace recorded on both my Garmin and RunKeeper. The time I was running for dragged, I think the boredom of looking at a white wall made this worse, compounded with the display ticking away right in font of me. I was continuously changing the display mode so I didn't fixate on the time. At the end of my run I slowed right down to a gentle walk, but this didn't prevent the feeling of still moving once I had stopped. Despite all of this I ran 5km in 24minutes 35seconds, which is my fastest time by over a minute. I'm not going to get too excited by this though, as I'm pretty sure this wouldn't translate onto a road run and I'm not claiming a PB until it does.
The best news is that I didn't cough after the run. Tomorrow I will run outside again and this will give me the answer The Boss needed today - am I well enough to embark on a rigourous sub 2hour Half Marathon training plan over the next 8 weeks?
Keep your fingers crossed....... but don't fall over!
Festive runs and all that winter brings
In my last blog post, I shared my random but rather grandiose plan to run on Christmas Day and the fantastic support I had received. Since that post, the support has continued and I am absolutely gobsmacked (but very pleased, obviously!) to say that the fundraising pot has just tipped over a staggering £310! This takes me to 31% of my target £1000; if you are reading this and you have contributed to my fundraising, then I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
The Festive period has been spent with my husband's side of the family. My brother was working, as he always has to at Christmas, but I did spend my birthday with him and his girlfriend, with Paul and the girls. We had a fantastic day together in Brighton, with ice skating for the children and onto a lovely Italian for a meal and Prosecco for me! Father Christmas was kind and generous as always but most importantly I was with the people who mean the most to us. My parents, although in a different country with my Uncle were with us in spirit and in the iPad thanks to FaceTime! We missed them and I'm not sure that they will be allowed out of the country over Christmas ever again.
Now I have warmed the cockles of your heart with festive cheer, allow me to bring you crashing back to reality with.... a chest infection. All together now, pantomime style - "Booooooooooo!" As the last week of the school term came to a close, I could feel the inevitable happening. I have been so lucky so far this year, and have managed to stave off the bugs despite the children bringing home more than one cough, cold or sore throat. After a brief stay in hospital about 4 years ago with a nasty chest infection, I am not ashamed to say they scare the bejeezus out of me and I don't fancy a recurrence of that!
Knowing I had to be careful, but also committed to my training plan I headed back out to test my capability. I had completed my long run and although fine while running, the vice-like tightness in my chest when I got home was not pleasant. I managed a pitiful 2 miles, but sensibly headed home not feeling good. I had to take the advice I would give to someone else - rest. As the days passed, my Christmas Day run looked less and less likely. On Christmas Eve I set out for a 5k easy run, again wanting to test myself and how the cold air affected the cough. Once again I was OK while running, slightly tight in the chest but not too uncomfortable, but as soon as I stopped I felt as though I had the Jolly Green Giant sitting on me. Reaching out to the fountain of knowledge that is Run Mummy Run, I posted asking for advice on how to run the following day with my symptoms, but safely. The overwhelming response was - don't run. I spoke to The Boss, hoping that he would say something different, but again the advice was clear. Get well first.
As we drove to my in-laws on Christmas morning in perfect running weather, I couldn't hide my disappointment. I felt like the old me had crept back in... grand ideas that are never followed through. I felt like a quitter, like I had let every single person who had sponsored me down. The whole point of the run was to honour the children at GOSH who had no choice to be in hospital, who couldn't go celebrate in the warmth and comfort of their own homes. And there was I taking the coward's way out. However, as I looked at the girls in the car I reminded myself that they needed me to be fit and healthy to care for them. The run has been postponed, not cancelled indefinitely.
So, watch this space. The 8 miles will be done, and they will be done soon.
The Festive period has been spent with my husband's side of the family. My brother was working, as he always has to at Christmas, but I did spend my birthday with him and his girlfriend, with Paul and the girls. We had a fantastic day together in Brighton, with ice skating for the children and onto a lovely Italian for a meal and Prosecco for me! Father Christmas was kind and generous as always but most importantly I was with the people who mean the most to us. My parents, although in a different country with my Uncle were with us in spirit and in the iPad thanks to FaceTime! We missed them and I'm not sure that they will be allowed out of the country over Christmas ever again.
Now I have warmed the cockles of your heart with festive cheer, allow me to bring you crashing back to reality with.... a chest infection. All together now, pantomime style - "Booooooooooo!" As the last week of the school term came to a close, I could feel the inevitable happening. I have been so lucky so far this year, and have managed to stave off the bugs despite the children bringing home more than one cough, cold or sore throat. After a brief stay in hospital about 4 years ago with a nasty chest infection, I am not ashamed to say they scare the bejeezus out of me and I don't fancy a recurrence of that!
Knowing I had to be careful, but also committed to my training plan I headed back out to test my capability. I had completed my long run and although fine while running, the vice-like tightness in my chest when I got home was not pleasant. I managed a pitiful 2 miles, but sensibly headed home not feeling good. I had to take the advice I would give to someone else - rest. As the days passed, my Christmas Day run looked less and less likely. On Christmas Eve I set out for a 5k easy run, again wanting to test myself and how the cold air affected the cough. Once again I was OK while running, slightly tight in the chest but not too uncomfortable, but as soon as I stopped I felt as though I had the Jolly Green Giant sitting on me. Reaching out to the fountain of knowledge that is Run Mummy Run, I posted asking for advice on how to run the following day with my symptoms, but safely. The overwhelming response was - don't run. I spoke to The Boss, hoping that he would say something different, but again the advice was clear. Get well first.
As we drove to my in-laws on Christmas morning in perfect running weather, I couldn't hide my disappointment. I felt like the old me had crept back in... grand ideas that are never followed through. I felt like a quitter, like I had let every single person who had sponsored me down. The whole point of the run was to honour the children at GOSH who had no choice to be in hospital, who couldn't go celebrate in the warmth and comfort of their own homes. And there was I taking the coward's way out. However, as I looked at the girls in the car I reminded myself that they needed me to be fit and healthy to care for them. The run has been postponed, not cancelled indefinitely.
So, watch this space. The 8 miles will be done, and they will be done soon.
Sunday, 14 December 2014
The kindness of family, friends and strangers. Part 2.
Earlier this year, I wrote about the kindness of strangers. Being sponsored by people who I'd never met before was an overwhelming feeling; recognition of my efforts by someone who has no unconditional reason to do so gave me a huge boost.
I expected it to be a one off. I was wrong.
My running buddy and I ran Crowborough 10k recently, and both of us were given £5 for our charities by a lady we were chatting to on the walk back to the car. I felt incredibly guilty and worried that I had come across as grabby; L was wearing her charity vest and I wasn't so it was this that had spurred the conversation. L had been given the money first and I'm not sure now if I started the next part of the conversation which led to me being given the same. Anyway, I was a bit embarrassed yet hugely grateful.
I was reading a few posts on Great Ormond Street's Facebook page this week, and it reminded me of my days as a Nurse where I did my share of the unsocial hours and holidays at work. Sometimes it felt like more than my fair share. I hated being away from my loved ones at special times of the year. I clearly remember driving to my first night shift after getting married; I cried as I drove because I just didn't want to be anywhere other than at home. My thoughts turned to the children who will be inpatients over Christmas, not just at GOSH but everywhere. The Christmas shifts weren't actually that bad once you were there. The rules relaxed ever so slightly, and while the basics still had to be done, these were the days when you didn't feel as pressured and could sit with the patients a while longer in an effort to make their Christmas slightly more bearable. Hospital is a horrible place to be on any day of the week, but the stereotype of families around a table tucking into turkey and the trimmings makes the draw of home so much stronger.
Sensibly, I talked to my husband before launching myself into another great idea. I needed his full support for this, and as I talked through my plan he barely batted an eyelid. Must be love... My fundraising needed a boost, and there are only so many ways I can ask for money. Aware of the purse-hitting season which is upon us, I didn't want to ask for too much, so we settled on 50p per minute of running on Christmas Day in honour of the NHS Staff and children in hospital with no choice to go home and be with their loved ones. I hoped that a few friends and family wouldn't mind giving me a shiny 50p for the meter (oh, happy memories of running up to my Nana's house to fetch 50p for the meter), but I followed Paul's advice and capped the distance at 8 miles. I thought it was totally unnecessary, but went with it. The Festive Run was launched by a simple Facebook post, which I shared as widely as possible.
I was totally astonished when the donations started coming in within minutes of posting. I needed to go no further than my own page, and the formidable women of the Run Mummy Run online community. What astonished me was that I wasn't being sponsored 50p. Support from family who are afar, and I don't see often enough, was beyond generous. Their messages of encouragement mean more to me than they will ever know. When I left my home town in 1997, I didn't think anyone would notice that I wasn't there anymore. The geographical distance between us can make me feel invisible and removed from the extended family which was the definition of my childhood. These words on a screen somehow draw them closer, they make me feel a part of them.
I checked my emails the next morning, and one after another, JustGiving popped up. Not one or two messages of support with donations to my fundraising for GOSH, but lots. And lots. Some of the names I knew - family and friends. Many names were new to me, and I am glad that these kind people had thought to put keywords into their messages for me to know that they were part of Run Mummy Run, and had read my post on the Facebook group. Not one donation was 50p, they were all pounds. How do I ever communicate to them how grateful I am? How do I ever say thank you? I had got to about £230 so far with the fundraising, which is a fabulous amount to hand over to GOSH, but in three short days these wonderful people have taken the total to over £290. Wow. I am well on my way to my target of £1000.
Having just watched the inspirational Jo Pavey get a respectable third place in the BBC Sports Personality of the Year Award, I know exactly how to say thank you to each and every one of my family, friends, and the Run Mummy Run ladies.
I'll just keep running.
I expected it to be a one off. I was wrong.
My running buddy and I ran Crowborough 10k recently, and both of us were given £5 for our charities by a lady we were chatting to on the walk back to the car. I felt incredibly guilty and worried that I had come across as grabby; L was wearing her charity vest and I wasn't so it was this that had spurred the conversation. L had been given the money first and I'm not sure now if I started the next part of the conversation which led to me being given the same. Anyway, I was a bit embarrassed yet hugely grateful.
I was reading a few posts on Great Ormond Street's Facebook page this week, and it reminded me of my days as a Nurse where I did my share of the unsocial hours and holidays at work. Sometimes it felt like more than my fair share. I hated being away from my loved ones at special times of the year. I clearly remember driving to my first night shift after getting married; I cried as I drove because I just didn't want to be anywhere other than at home. My thoughts turned to the children who will be inpatients over Christmas, not just at GOSH but everywhere. The Christmas shifts weren't actually that bad once you were there. The rules relaxed ever so slightly, and while the basics still had to be done, these were the days when you didn't feel as pressured and could sit with the patients a while longer in an effort to make their Christmas slightly more bearable. Hospital is a horrible place to be on any day of the week, but the stereotype of families around a table tucking into turkey and the trimmings makes the draw of home so much stronger.
Sensibly, I talked to my husband before launching myself into another great idea. I needed his full support for this, and as I talked through my plan he barely batted an eyelid. Must be love... My fundraising needed a boost, and there are only so many ways I can ask for money. Aware of the purse-hitting season which is upon us, I didn't want to ask for too much, so we settled on 50p per minute of running on Christmas Day in honour of the NHS Staff and children in hospital with no choice to go home and be with their loved ones. I hoped that a few friends and family wouldn't mind giving me a shiny 50p for the meter (oh, happy memories of running up to my Nana's house to fetch 50p for the meter), but I followed Paul's advice and capped the distance at 8 miles. I thought it was totally unnecessary, but went with it. The Festive Run was launched by a simple Facebook post, which I shared as widely as possible.
I was totally astonished when the donations started coming in within minutes of posting. I needed to go no further than my own page, and the formidable women of the Run Mummy Run online community. What astonished me was that I wasn't being sponsored 50p. Support from family who are afar, and I don't see often enough, was beyond generous. Their messages of encouragement mean more to me than they will ever know. When I left my home town in 1997, I didn't think anyone would notice that I wasn't there anymore. The geographical distance between us can make me feel invisible and removed from the extended family which was the definition of my childhood. These words on a screen somehow draw them closer, they make me feel a part of them.
I checked my emails the next morning, and one after another, JustGiving popped up. Not one or two messages of support with donations to my fundraising for GOSH, but lots. And lots. Some of the names I knew - family and friends. Many names were new to me, and I am glad that these kind people had thought to put keywords into their messages for me to know that they were part of Run Mummy Run, and had read my post on the Facebook group. Not one donation was 50p, they were all pounds. How do I ever communicate to them how grateful I am? How do I ever say thank you? I had got to about £230 so far with the fundraising, which is a fabulous amount to hand over to GOSH, but in three short days these wonderful people have taken the total to over £290. Wow. I am well on my way to my target of £1000.
Having just watched the inspirational Jo Pavey get a respectable third place in the BBC Sports Personality of the Year Award, I know exactly how to say thank you to each and every one of my family, friends, and the Run Mummy Run ladies.
I'll just keep running.
Body Vs Mind, Mind Vs Body
I have been unwell this week, thanks to my gorgeous girls sharing their bugs. I was really annoyed that I couldn't run; last week I had managed to get out three times against the odds and I was hoping that this week would be the same. I shouldn't be surprised though, after spending 10 days cooped up with poorly children coughing and spluttering!
My Long Sunday Run had to be a sensible, steady run today to account for not being completely well, and still carrying an irritating dry cough. It was while I was running today that it occurred to me that my mind and body really, really disagree with each other.
Here's an example of the arguments they usually have:
Head: It is a bit dark to run
Body: I'd quite like to stretch
Head: But it is very cold
Body: Wrapped up I'm OK
Head: But it is very cold AND very dark
Body: C'mon, let's go!
Head: I can't do this...
Body: Follow me, it'll be fine
Head: Oh, this isn't so bad....
Head: You've started too fast, I can't keep this up
Body: Whhhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Head: I. Can't. Do. This.
Body: Hahahahaahahhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa keep up slow coach!
Head: This. Hurts.
Body: Shut up and keep up
Head: Seriously. I can't.
Body: Go hard or go home, wuss.
Head: I did it!
This morning was different though, and it was quite refreshing to have a different argument between my toddler-esque personalities.
Head: I need to get out. I need to destress. Let's run.
Body: Cough cough wheeze. No.
Head: It is a beautiful day. I need the sun. Let's go.
Body: Cough. No.
Head: It'll help, you might feel better
Body: This isn't as bad as I thought
Head: You're stronger than you thought.
Body: So are you.
So, today's run was a tough 5 miles. I could have done with my lungs functioning a little better, but I'm so proud of myself for going out there and doing it. The younger, care-free me would have phoned in sick for feeling as I did this morning. Maybe it is maturity, maybe it is the steely determination of pulling myself out of bed each morning to get the girls to school on time, maybe it is just because I am so much fitter... but whatever the reason, I am proud of my mind and body for both being strong enough to run. Not just today, but every day I get out there and hit the pavements.
This determination was never more evident than last week, when I was invited out by my fast-paced friend for an impromptu run. I hesitated on taking her up on the offer, because I knew I was going to be really put through my paces. I knew it would hurt, I knew I would have to focus, put my head down and go for it, and I also knew that the post-run high would be worth every second of it.
We set off fast. It was freezing cold, and despite having warmed up jogging down to her house, the speed still took me by surprise. I was struggling to get my breathing to slow from that awful gasping for air like a fish out of water, to the useful deep, slow useful rhythm for optimal performance. My head was screaming no, I could hear myself saying I can't do this, it is too fast. What I love about my friend is that she believes in me, and doesn't let me get away with it. Like a surly Staff Sergeant, she basically told me to put up or shut up - I chose the latter option and concentrated on keeping up.
We flew around the 10k route she had planned. It felt amazing running that fast, it is almost like being invincible. Once my breathing had settled, the pace didn't feel uncomfortable. Apart from one part of the route where I HAD to slow - the cold had hit me and I just couldn't catch my breath - we had a fairly consistent pace, all under 9 minute miles. At one point, I really had to keep my head up because the repeating pattern of the slabs on the path was making me feel dizzy and I thought I might be sick!
I had started my Garmin when I left home, so I hit 10k slightly sooner than my friend, but there was no way I was stopping before her. Her pace was amazingly fast at the end and I slipped behind very slightly but I was determined to keep going. Hitting stop on the watch was a relief, it was finally done, and 'Fastest 10k' flashed up at me. Goodness knows what anyone who could see us thought - two lycra clad women whooping, cheering and cuddling in the middle of the street must be a strange sight! It wasn't until I got home and synced my watch to the PC that I saw my Fastest 5k and Fastest Mile had also been recorded that day. My goal for the next Brooks 10k next year will definitely be sub-50 minutes... who knows with a decent marathon time and continued hard work through the summer I could be aiming for a time that once was a 5k hope.
So, whatever the argument my mind and body have... they always seem to come together in the end. The next part of my learning journey will be to have the self belief that I am strong.
My Long Sunday Run had to be a sensible, steady run today to account for not being completely well, and still carrying an irritating dry cough. It was while I was running today that it occurred to me that my mind and body really, really disagree with each other.
Here's an example of the arguments they usually have:
Head: It is a bit dark to run
Body: I'd quite like to stretch
Head: But it is very cold
Body: Wrapped up I'm OK
Head: But it is very cold AND very dark
Body: C'mon, let's go!
Head: I can't do this...
Body: Follow me, it'll be fine
Head: Oh, this isn't so bad....
Head: You've started too fast, I can't keep this up
Body: Whhhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Head: I. Can't. Do. This.
Body: Hahahahaahahhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa keep up slow coach!
Head: This. Hurts.
Body: Shut up and keep up
Head: Seriously. I can't.
Body: Go hard or go home, wuss.
Head: I did it!
This morning was different though, and it was quite refreshing to have a different argument between my toddler-esque personalities.
Head: I need to get out. I need to destress. Let's run.
Body: Cough cough wheeze. No.
Head: It is a beautiful day. I need the sun. Let's go.
Body: Cough. No.
Head: It'll help, you might feel better
Body: This isn't as bad as I thought
Head: You're stronger than you thought.
Body: So are you.
So, today's run was a tough 5 miles. I could have done with my lungs functioning a little better, but I'm so proud of myself for going out there and doing it. The younger, care-free me would have phoned in sick for feeling as I did this morning. Maybe it is maturity, maybe it is the steely determination of pulling myself out of bed each morning to get the girls to school on time, maybe it is just because I am so much fitter... but whatever the reason, I am proud of my mind and body for both being strong enough to run. Not just today, but every day I get out there and hit the pavements.
This determination was never more evident than last week, when I was invited out by my fast-paced friend for an impromptu run. I hesitated on taking her up on the offer, because I knew I was going to be really put through my paces. I knew it would hurt, I knew I would have to focus, put my head down and go for it, and I also knew that the post-run high would be worth every second of it.
We set off fast. It was freezing cold, and despite having warmed up jogging down to her house, the speed still took me by surprise. I was struggling to get my breathing to slow from that awful gasping for air like a fish out of water, to the useful deep, slow useful rhythm for optimal performance. My head was screaming no, I could hear myself saying I can't do this, it is too fast. What I love about my friend is that she believes in me, and doesn't let me get away with it. Like a surly Staff Sergeant, she basically told me to put up or shut up - I chose the latter option and concentrated on keeping up.
We flew around the 10k route she had planned. It felt amazing running that fast, it is almost like being invincible. Once my breathing had settled, the pace didn't feel uncomfortable. Apart from one part of the route where I HAD to slow - the cold had hit me and I just couldn't catch my breath - we had a fairly consistent pace, all under 9 minute miles. At one point, I really had to keep my head up because the repeating pattern of the slabs on the path was making me feel dizzy and I thought I might be sick!
I had started my Garmin when I left home, so I hit 10k slightly sooner than my friend, but there was no way I was stopping before her. Her pace was amazingly fast at the end and I slipped behind very slightly but I was determined to keep going. Hitting stop on the watch was a relief, it was finally done, and 'Fastest 10k' flashed up at me. Goodness knows what anyone who could see us thought - two lycra clad women whooping, cheering and cuddling in the middle of the street must be a strange sight! It wasn't until I got home and synced my watch to the PC that I saw my Fastest 5k and Fastest Mile had also been recorded that day. My goal for the next Brooks 10k next year will definitely be sub-50 minutes... who knows with a decent marathon time and continued hard work through the summer I could be aiming for a time that once was a 5k hope.
So, whatever the argument my mind and body have... they always seem to come together in the end. The next part of my learning journey will be to have the self belief that I am strong.
Saturday, 29 November 2014
Everybody Hurts
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.
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.
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