My time

Here we are then, in two weeks I’ll be in Fuerteventura. In fact at this time I should have completed the first leg of the Half Marathon Des Sables, probably about 20 miles. (They don’t tell you exact distances until you get out there). I’ll be cooking my dinner on the little stove I’ve carried with me, a fine dehydrated mac n’ cheese and preparing to settle into my bivouac in my ultra light sleeping bag. Ready to get up and face the longest stage - roughly 40 miles over the volcanos and sand. 

I won’t go back and remind everyone what’s led me to this point. Or will I? You may not know I entered the race a year ago now. It was going to be the end highlight of a year of great achievements for me. My dream race The Wall, 69 miles in the summer. Another crack at the London Marathon, with the hope that maybe I could even get a PB (first time I’ve admitted that!). A few more ultras thrown in and then the Half MDS followed by my favourite Royal Parks. All raising money for Breast Cancer Now - who I’ve fundraised for now for nearly 2 years, raising nearly £5000! 

(https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/JoFrazerWise)

But most of that hasn’t happened. There have been 7 DNS (Did not Start) and 1 DNF (Did not Finish) so far this year. I ran in London. I certainly didn’t get a Personal Best. The Wall was one of the DNS. But I have 3 races left this year - Half MDS, Royal Parks Half and the Pilgrims Challenge in November a 3 day ultra back to back 30 milers. 

Throughout all of this I’ve been off sick from work for 5 months with depression and PTSD. Returned to work. Been on anti-depressants, taken myself off anti-depressants. Put on over 2 stone in weight (cause of said anti-depressants I’m now not on!). Some days I’ve been able to run. Some days I’ve not been able to get out of bed. All the time watching my dreams for the year come and go. Part of the pain. But knowing the Half MDS was still on the horizon. Achievable if I could just get myself there. 

(Sow Ay https://sow-ay.tumblr.com/)

And here I am. Two weeks out. Ready to go. It can no longer be the way I imagined it. My weight, although going down, is still probably a lot more than the average competitor. My fitness is returning but not fast enough to make a huge difference. I am strong in my legs because they know they’ve done far more than this (Race to the Tower a case in point). But am I strong enough in my mind? Can I really do this? 

Yes I bloody can! I’m on a long road to recovery but the Half MDS has become part of that. It is achievable. It’s achievable for anyone. Not just me. I confess I have moments of crisis, mainly as I really wanted to do well. But define well. Is well completing it in a time that is respectable? Or is well just completing it? Knowing that only 2 months ago you couldn’t imagine getting through the day and now you’re going to run 120km with everything you need in a 6kg bag on your back? Everyone says it’s enough to just complete it. I know in my heart of hearts I don’t believe that. But right now, right here - that’s all I have. I know myself. I know I will always feel that disappointment that this year fell away from me. But only in my running. In my life this year should be the year that makes me. The year I finally confront the demons inside my soul and say “enough”. Perhaps the year I am able to complete the Half MDS and realise this was enough. That looking at others race times, achievements and feeling I’m not good enough is just that nasty parrot on my shoulder. It’s not the truth. It’s not my truth. Nor is it your truth. We are good enough. 

Which led me out to the beautiful Kentish Greensand Way on Sunday for a 21 mile kit test. Technically it was a run but my pace is probably the average persons walk, I was basing it on trying to get each 5k under the hour. Which I achieved. I stopped and took photos. I stopped for chats. I texted Jules playing i-spy as we both went out on our runs with photos....I went 21 miles in pretty much the time it took me to run the London marathon this year 6 hrs 30 minutes. And that’s good enough. It has to be. It will be. It can be. 

Which means off I go. I now declare I am officially tapering. I’ll do some parkruns and a few more kit checks but with less than 13 days to go I declare myself ready. This is my time to achieve something. Not the something I planned. But something for me. Something I can hold on to and say - you know in a year of proper shit I did that. I crawled out of the darkness and went up a volcano! Deep down I may not believe it’s a great achievement, but one day I will and I know you’ll all tell me it is anyway so I’ll believe you. I promise. With that I want to thank my amazing cheer squad, those I know in person and those that virtually slap me most days through Twitter. You know who you are. You know that i probably wouldn’t even be here without you. And you know that I’ll think of you when I’m re-hydrating my chicken tikka masala and then the next day trying to find somewhere for a shit as I run!! 

One step at a time

Salisbury has become a ‘thing’ for me - in 2017 I was entered to do the Salisbury 54321 marathon for the first time. I saw it as a great opportunity to get back to running after Race to the Stones, it was billed as a trail run and the cut-off was super generous. The 54321 is always a bit weird but it’s something like 5 rivers, 4 hills, 3 country estates, 2 castles and 1 cathedral.  Well, I never did the marathon in 2017 - instead my wife had ensured I got to see a Doctor the Thursday before and I was put on anti-depressants and sent straight for counselling. I switched on race day to the half instead

Last year i entered the marathon again, another great opportunity to get running again after Race to the Tower. This time I had Jules and Tim for company. I did complete the marathon. We didn’t run much of it together as my pace was slow and laborious. But that year I finished it, in the wet and the rain. Still on anti-depressants, weight rising steadily. But job done. 

Well, this year I entered the Ultra - why not get the complete set? Great training following the Wall (which obviously I didn’t do) and the perfect distance in advance of the Half MDS in September. Except, we all know how this year has been going for me. Mostly filled with DNS - one DNF at Bewl and mental torment that sees me up and down like a yo-yo. Plus I started back at work 5 weeks ago and although it has been okay, it hasn’t been great. Work have been super supportive but the minefield of restructures in Local Government and not being sure what I’m meant to be doing hasn’t made it the return I’d hoped for. Which led to a collapse in my recovery just as we approached my nemesis in Salisbury! 

What to do? I hate making decisions in case i make the wrong one, in case i regret it and spend the entire time wishing I’d done something else. Or blaming myself for being so foolish. I simply didn’t know - I ran 15 miles the week before, plenty within the pace for the cut off. But later that day I bent over to pick up something and my back went into spasm. Co-codamol prescribed by the GP and the words ‘keep moving’ all seemed to indicate I could still run. But did I want to? My wife, Keeley, had been entered by mistake (by me!) into the 20 mile walk - the plan had been for her to walk the Half Marathon having walked the 10k last year. Despite my mistake and trying to convince her not to walk 20 miles with a bad knee, no training and no point she was determined to stick at that distance. Should I, I pondered, do it with her instead of the 50k?

When you don’t know what to do what else is there to do but ask Twitter. So I did. And you answered in your droves. Almost all pushing me to drop down to the walk and have some fun with my wife over 20 miles. She had promised me a scotch egg picnic on route too so I could feel the gods drawing me in, but I still wasn’t sure. Decisions. I hate making decisions that I can’t stop myself regretting. Which then helped that two people made it for me. First Whiffers - well you just don’t argue with Whiffers and second my therapist. Both told me not to run and to do the walk. That was it then. 20 mile walk with 10 hours to complete it in was the plan. My back was still sore and it just seemed to make sense. But once again Salisbury 54321 had defeated me before I’d even reached the start line. The race that has inadvertently become like a marker in the year for when my mental health finally completely failed me. There would be no triumphant return saying “I’m better” - and I can promise you there will be no return to Salisbury again. 

If you ever get the chance to enter Salisbury 54321 then I would. It’s a masterpiece in organisation. You can run 21, 33, 42 or 50k and you can walk all of those too as well as a 10k and a 5k fun run. Everything is colour coded. There’s bread pudding on route (for the longer distances), great marshals, beautiful scenery, no chance your watch will match the distances (always well over) and the weirdest ending along the river dodging tourists and shoppers who have no idea you’re in a race.

20 miles in 10 hours seemed very doable for Keeley, we had mused about potential pub stops, picnics. Plenty of fun to be had. Except she hated it. From about 2 miles in - granted she’s in a lot of pain with a ligament damaged knee strapped up. Likely arthritis too. But her physio had seen no reason why she shouldn’t give it a go. And she did. Mile after mile. Hill after hill. In pain, I kept her dosed up like smarties with paracetamol, ibuprofen, some of my co-codamol. She navigated stiles, fences, main roads, off road, yew trees, tarmac (most of it is actually not trail) oh and hills. Lots of lovely hills. Her message to me “just keep talking” - so I did for 9hrs 30 minutes. I went through my entire repertoire of bollocks. At first I was questioning whether she actually wanted to do the entire thing. But her inner stubborn was not about to give up - or at least when it wanted to we were in the middle of nowhere with no checkpoints and no chance to just drop out and Uber it home. Which meant we walked. I sang (those who run with me know my love of Nolans), I chattered. I texted Jules to give me inspiration on what else I could do to help motivate her. We had cheese straws, we did stop and eat the scotch eggs. We took selfies. And she swore. A lot. But she bloody did it. It took longer than we had hoped which makes it harder as that’s all just extra hours on your feet. But she kept going. She dug in. She walked 20 miles. 

And me, I walked it too. And I realised I could walk it, easily. 20 miles did not seem scary to me at all. But I guess having run 13 marathons and a few ultras it wouldn’t. But I had never realised this before until Sunday. I just kept going. And it felt good to be able to give support to Keeley. The one person who has been a constant over those last 2 years of deep darkness, it’s not been easy for her (at all) and in some little way I could give her something back. This was what I did. Stick me in a race or on a route and I will keep going. I won’t be fast. I won’t be pretty. But I won’t stop (well other than in Bewl in the pouring rain!). It was like an eye opener for me. At one point Keeley asked me why did I do this and it’s something my therapist asks me too. Why? Why push yourself over crazy miles. Simply because you can. You can switch it all off. All the pain. All the voices in your head. And just put one foot in front of the other - usually with beautiful scenery and snacks and friendly folk to cheer you on. It isn’t real life. It’s as far from real life as you can get and it turns out, I can achieve something doing it. I can get to the finish. And in real life I’m never quite sure I’ll get to the finish. 

But we did. Together. One step at a time. And doing that 20 miles, strapped into my MDS pack, bad back and all I know I’ll get to the finish of all my races left this year. On the drive home Keeley turned to me and said “it’s weird, as you struggle so much mentally in everyday life but somehow you’re incredibly mentally strong when it comes to running.” The 50k wasn’t to be for me this weekend. But I know I have it in me to reach those goals that are to come. And maybe just maybe I have it in me to reach my life goals too. 

Before I finish I also want to thank Donna and Tim, our friends who popped up in the last 2k at Salisbury. Tim had hoped to run the marathon but had to pull out. Even though I’m sure they should have gone home hours before suddenly they appeared in front of us and helped ensure that last mile went by easily. It was almost the same pace as our first mile. It gave Keeley a boost and they took some great finish photos too, so thank you! 

Happy Holidays

First, I want to say a huge thank you for the response to my last blog post. I can’t believe how many people read it and then took time to contact me either publicly or privately. Safe to say it’s had the biggest impact of all my posts - I’ve been keeping this blog for about 5 years now but clearly nothing has reached such a big audience. I guess my mental illness is far more interesting than my running....

Whatever it is that brought you to read that post, I hope maybe you’ll flick back through some of the older posts or keep reading. I try and do a post once a month, as the mood takes me. They are about running, but actually always about a little bit more than that and probably the best way I have of showing the world me. I’m not very good at talking face to face and can easily hide behind words, which flow off onto the page very easily for me. Lots of you said “wow that must have been hard to write” - well it never is hard, it’s only hard to hit the share button and accept that people are going to read what I’ve written. I’ve plenty of things I never hit send on or delete seconds after writing, especially on twitter.

That said I’ve upped my Instagram game lately, using images and a few words seems a pretty safe way of sharing how I’m doing. 

So, how am I doing? Well I would love to say “woohoo, thank you, I’m amazing” - writing that blog brought it all together for me and with the therapy and medication things are really coming together. But, they aren’t. Not quite. Not yet. I’ve decided to taper off my medication. Mirtazapine just isn’t for me. It’s an old style anti-depressant. Not one of the SSRIs - I was on sertraline. But when I asked the Doctor to come off those she switched me “try these”. I’ve tried them. Since Feb. And alongside what can only be described as sleeping sickness (getting up any time before 10am is nearly impossible on this medication) I’ve had constant craving...(queue singing in your head). Food is a huge weakness for me. Comfort eating. Over eating. Eating. Being prescribed a medication on which 3 out of 5 people put on weight, that increases your cravings and inhibits the brain so you don’t know if you’re full. Well, that wouldn’t have been part of my plan at all. But no one told me this. I had to find it out on my own. Which is why, on my own I’ve made the decision to taper off the medication. 

If i can come of the medication and begin to lose some weight I KNOW I’ll feel better in my body. I may even start to run again. I’d like that. Listening to some audio books on holiday like My Shit Therapist by Michelle Thomas and Running for My Life by Rachel Cullen has made me remember why I liked running. How good it made me feel. But I was nearly 2 stone lighter then. I’ve run twice on holiday and gone for a couple of long walks. They’ve been hard. I feel unfit. Out of shape. Yet I’ve enjoyed them. Actual joy. Taking time to look around me, feel the earth moving, the old sensation of time alone for me. Comfort. Without food. And right now I’m in need of comfort. 

Every year we come to Lesvos, Greece for two weeks. Last week of June, first week of July. It’s a rest from our crazy busy lives. Two weeks of sun, good food, good friends. As we’ve been coming here for 5 years we know lots of people and it’s like a home away from home. But this year, for me, it’s been different. I’ve not been at work since Feb. In fact I’ve barely left the house since then for longer than a weekend. Which meant coming away for two weeks created all sorts of anxiety. Plus, I’ve changed. The lid is off the bottle and it is never going back in. I’m not sure what me will pop out the other side of this journey, but I’m in transition. Which makes relating to others hard. Relaxing has never been my strong point. It’s why we come here, my wife can laze around the pool and I can go off and explore. Or run. But this year I’m still wrapped in the lethargy of depression. Staying safely in my room all morning sleeping feels the most I’m up to. Yet, I’ve surprised and surpassed myself in week one. Taking myself off - but it’s hot. Really hot. Like high 30s hot. So I’m limited in what I can actually get up to. 

As it is I’ve managed to find some routine. Sleeping late. Joining my wife at the pool for a little while. But also using my Positivity Planner and Diary - keeping a log of how I’m feeling, what I’m doing. And now also taking myself off to the Kantina to sit and be myself. By myself. 

That said our friends here have been wonderful. Giving me space. But also letting me know they’re here, if I need them and that it’s okay. They understand. They read my last blog and it now all makes sense. See, these little ditties have a purpose. They help me connect when the thought of doing so in person is just too much. 

It’s hard though, when you’re on holiday and people think “oh, how wonderful” - yet it doesn’t feel wonderful. Yes, some of it really does but actually I can’t wait to get home. Although that in itself will take me back to work....the time has come to leave the comfort and safety of home and see if I can function again in the real world. Still with the safety of therapy. And days at home. I’m still posting happy holiday pics and hiding behind the lens that sprinkles rainbows onto life. But I’ve learned some very wise words this trip from books and others. 

When talking, if you’ve got something to say - stick to these three rules - is it kind? Is it necessary? And is it true? 

And hold on. Even if it hurts. Even if you think those who love you would be better off without you. Please hold on. Please stay with us. We need you. 

I can’t thank Michelle Thomas enough for these words. Even if I had the embarrassment of sobbing into my sunbed as I listened to them. But I wrote them down and I’m repeating them over and over. Every day since I’ve heard them. And if you hear them too and need to hear them. Then hold on. If we all hold on together then who knows what we could achieve?

Things will never be the same again...

This blog post isn’t really about running, well i guess it sort of is. But I haven’t done any running really since London. Other than getting half way around Bewl Marathon and deciding that I’d had enough, which in turn led me to realise that I wouldn’t be doing the run the wall this year. So since mid May I’ve stopped running. I tried to do parkrun a couple of weeks ago, but my own physical self, mental self and an off-hand comment by one of the volunteers meant I stopped my Garmin and slunk myself back to the car to head home. 

But actually since then things have started to take a turn for the better. I used to say (to anyone who would listen) that I was proud of the fact that I knew myself inside and out. No secrets in my life due to years and years of counselling, therapy and self-introspection. Except turns out I was wrong. Despite having had depression on and off all my life, thinking that I understood what it meant for me and priding myself on still working and not really letting it get in the way of my life. The last two years that hasn’t been the case. I began to struggle at work. I began to struggle to see people. And finally in February of this year I totally stopped being able to function. My GP told me I wasn’t safe to work and turns out I wasn’t really safe for much, not even keeping my self safe. I’ve not been back to work since. But I’ve used this time wisely. Finding myself a therapist I trust completely and who gets me (don’t underestimate this!) - being failed by NHS Mental Health services, drugged up to the eye-balls and in the end paying for the diagnosis and treatment I need myself and being helped by work. I’m one of the lucky ones. Several people aren’t so lucky. If I wasn’t one of the lucky ones I think I wouldn’t be writing this blog. I think I would be dead. As believe me I came close even with all of this. 

What I’ve learned is that actually I had hidden demons that have been so influencing my life that I had no idea. Trauma comes in many forms and it’s impact and effects can be hard to recognise, but piecing the puzzle together is all part of recovery. Simple steps turn out to have great power. It’s a slow process, but only once I’ve been through this will I be able to then start working on the depression. As the latter relies on a degree of self-compassion I’m incapable of believing or accepting currently. 

I will never be the same person again. Which is a good thing. I need to learn to be comfortable in my own skin. Eating disorder and all. I need to start being able to see that emotions and feelings are not dirty words (which is why the safety of talking about it in a blog post is all part of my recovery). I need to accept that everything is not, actually, my fault. And I’ve started to understand that for me, running is actually a part of the problem. This for some will be heresy, but actually I want to name it. Say it loud and clear. Many many people post about the positive benefits of running, for them that’s amazing and wonderful. That running helps them keep their mental health balanced and well. I thought the same. Until I realised it didn’t. 

Running started for me as a hobby, something fun, that I looked forward to and did with friends, helping me to feel really good. It continued this way until a couple of years ago. When suddenly as my other coping mechanisms began to fail. So too did running. In fact it made things worse. The pressure I felt. The fear of failure. The mental exhaustion from taking part in ultras, that didn’t make me feel better. They just made me feel worse and like a failure. Even the social side became unbearable as I pretended that all was okay and kept going out with others, all the while eating myself up inside and then comfort eating for real afterwards. Medication helped contribute to an ever growing weight as did this comfort eating and an inability to say no to food. The spiral downwards was quicker and faster than I imagined and running felt at the heart of lots of it. 

We hear all the time “It’s okay not to be okay” or “the power of positive thinking”, “No excuses”, kick out the negativity in your life...I hate all these expressions. For some of us, none of these things are true. For me this isn’t about mental health. We ALL have mental health. It’s inescapable, what most of us do is manage to keep this well. We may have dips or drops but actually 4 out of 5 are okay with their mental health. The rest of us, well we aren’t. And actually that makes us ill. Mental illness is NOT a dirty word. We all get ill. Colds. Upset stomachs. Flu. Broken legs. These things are not okay. We take tablets or see a Dr to help us and they take time to heal. Mental illness is no different. I don’t want it to be okay not be okay. I want it to be okay to say “help me!” I want it to be okay to say “I’m struggling” and actually i want this hideous, dark swirling mess of pain to go away. Even for a few hours. I want to feel okay! 

And no power of positive thinking will help that. At least not for me. Treatment. Exploring why some of these feelings are here, that will help me. Drugs - not so much. And believe me I’ve got plenty of excuses and even more reasons why I’m not well. At times hearing the world say they only want positive people in their lives helps drive you to believe there is no place for you in this world. So you’re better off out of it. 

It felt so hard to say that running was a part of the problem. Until London. How I got round that marathon I will never know. Driven by something I guess that I can’t explain and don’t understand. But it was hell at times. When you’ve been feeling like you just want to die, 26.2 miles isn’t the best thing to try. After I told close friends and my counsellor that I wasn’t doing the wall anymore every single one of them said “thank god”. No one wanted to be the person who stopped me doing it. But as my counsellor said “you’d have run out all your mental reserves and then what...”  the pressure came off and I the fact I didn’t feel like going for a run didn’t matter. Don’t get me wrong, I still think I’ll run. I’ve still got a few races this year and I believe I want to do them. Running is actually good for me. But stepping away has made such a difference. I’m strava free. No desire to check on everyone else’s runs and although my Garmin does still auto-upload to my account I have no notifications so only look if I want to look. I’m starting to believe that those achievements like Race to the Tower were achievements. And I’m convinced that Jeffing will help me keep the ability to run races and parkruns even if I can’t win my battle with my weight. 

Whether I ever go back to running in a group or with friends, that I’m not sure. Other than perhaps a parkrun now and then and the races I’ve managed hardly any of my runs this year have been group runs. Those that were all happened in the ‘let’s pretend’ phase of the year. Hard to believe that I don’t take selfies either. And I don’t know if I will. I have changed. I can’t go back to who I was before. And I don’t want to. Battle scars make us, apparently. They don’t define us and our lives can change like the weather. “Always in motion is the future”, which means I can’t say anything for sure. But it’s no bad thing that things will never be the same again....

Thanks as always to the AMAZING @sow_ay for his illustrations - see more at https://sow-ay.tumblr.com/

Over the Line

After a year of DNS I finally started a race and finished it - thankfully it was the race that mattered London. I’d love to say great things about the build up and the race. It was London and whatever others say I believe it is one of the greatest races in the calendar and the world (more on that later) - this made it a special day even if not the best day. 

Thanks to Jeff Galloway I was able to start and finish and I learned some valuable lessons linked to Jeffing - 

1.  Start your run/walk cycle from the moment you step across the start line. It may feel weird walking so soon in a race but it matters and makes all the difference to later on. 

2. It’s easy to run too fast in the running parts. At points I was at my regular marathon pace. I realised too late this was too fast for me even with walk breaks. 

3. There are lots of us Jeffing - it was great to be at the back of the pack with a group of mostly women all doing a run/walk. Shame we didin’t all start at the same time so we were in synch! 

4. Stopping to talk to friends watching really messes with the cycle! 

5. Don’t shift to a shorter or longer run until at least 20 miles. In a marathon this is when the race really starts and it’s no difference Jeffing. 

6. Even with limited training by Jeffing you can start, finish and make the most of race day. I’m never going back to just running! 

The miles ticked by and i was enjoying Jeffing a lot - using the walk breaks to soak in the atmosphere, chat to people around me (including running in to Sarah who I went to primary school with!) and thinking how great it was to be in London once again. Yes, the London marathon is a busy race - there are over 40000 runners and that can make navigating tricky. I made sure no one was behind me when I moved into a walk break and that I was always to the side. For me it’s the crowds of runners and spectators that make this race, plus I love the route - through parts of where I used to live, around Tower Hill and a spectacular finish. 

But at mile 19 i began to wonder if I’d made a terrible mistake trying to complete a marathon. Not because I felt out of shape physically (which I am) but mentally i was tired, sad and faced with the reality of my depression. I’ve never felt so vulnerable on a run before. I’m not great at sharing my emotions, opening up to others but I knew at mile 19 if I saw someone I knew it was all going to fall apart. I just kept run/walking knowing I was ticking off the miles and that i could survive, like I keep surviving. I just wondered who would be the poor soul who encountered me first. It was James. At Tower Hill with all the Harriers - a welcome hug, a few tears and then some more hugs without tears and it was on to finish. Thank you to James and to all those that helped me get through the full 26.2. 

Crossing the finish i was proud of what I’d achieved. It didn’t feel like other races and London 2019 won’t be my favourite race to remember. But I’ve raised over £3000 for Breast Cancer Now (My Fundraising Page) when it was hard to imagine I would ever start and finish a race again. And I knew it was a step towards my goal of The Wall. 

Running gives me many things, it provides space from the world, endorphins to help me feel better, escape and friendship. I’m still running alone but I know there are people out there who are there when I need them. It’s hard. Running London was one of the hardest races I’ve ever completed. I haven’t shared many photos, well any photos as looking at them I see someone out of shape, struggling with the weight of things they can’t comprehend - but maybe one day I’ll see what others tell me they see! 

Here Comes Jeff....

London is now 24 days away. The Wall is 71 days away. Training plans have been and gone. Planned times. Expectations all out of the window. But I’m still here, thinking about running in the future. Planning on getting through. Which is what matters. The only thing that matters, is getting through each day. 

Which is where Jeff has come into his own. Run Mummy Run is full of Jeffers. The selfies have a few too. I understood the concept, a run/walk strategy. But hadn’t really thought that much about it. Visiting the website I found some nuggets and decided to download the Kindle version of Jeff Galloway’s marathon book. It’s changed everything. 

I’ve read it twice already and I was particularly buoyed by him saying if you pick the book up 3 weeks before a marathon having only run up to 18 miles you’ll be fine. Mainly cause it’s 4 weeks and I’ve not even run 18 miles yet. But today I ran 15. 1 minute run, 1 minute walk. Fuelling as I went on a trail bar, a bag of nuts and one shot blok. It turned out to be the best run I’ve had in ages. Who cares about the time? Why do we all care about time. “I’m slow. I’m fast. Urgh that was awful.” If that’s your bag then fine. But I don’t need to hear about it, as what am I meant to say? Your fast is my slow. My slow is your fast. None of us (well other than maybe Charlotte) are going to win anything. 

I’m getting older by the second. I’m overweight, unhappy and desperate to keep myself running as it’s the only time I feel free from all that weighs me down. And Jeff gets that. Running is about fun. About finishing. But actually if you want to go for a time, well you can do that too. But just don’t forget the core of why we run. So watching Sheila complete Barcelona marathon in a PB and knowing she had Jeffed it swung me to find out more. 

Don’t tell me I’m not really running, or that I shouldn’t be out there if I’m taking 7 hours. As actually 7 hours for 26.2 miles is perfect pace for my 69 miles. Never mind the 120km I’ve got in September. And I just want to feel alive. Free. So that when I stop running I can feel alive. Free. Maybe enough so I can get up in the morning. Go to work. Feel like everything will be okay. And if Jeff helps with that, woohoo. 

We all need a bit of Jeff in our lives, to remember why we do things and what’s important. When I created the Selfies Facebook Group I deliberately used the photo with the phrase “we race together not to beat each other, but to be together” - our shirts say ‘running at the speed of chat’ because we run together and that’s what matters. 

At the moment I run alone. There is no chat. I can’t face being with people, watching them run into the distance. Wait for me. Run off again. Or for me to have to fill the silence when I’m terrified of how I can do that. In normal circumstances I wouldn’t mind any of that. But my circumstances are not normal. So i run alone, to keep myself safe and away from things that may become too much. 

But I’ll finish London, in 6 hours, 7 hours, even if they take all the stands away and I don’t get a medal. I will cross the line in the Mall and finish. And then I’ll dust myself off and get ready for the Wall. Because I’ve spent my life building walls around me, to keep myself safe from judgement and pain. So now I want to run along one and be proud of what I’ve achieved. But most of all have up to 26 hours of silencing the demons in my head. 

Running for Breast Cancer Now

Each step as it comes

I’ve been running. Although to be fair, I suspect a lot of you wouldn’t call what I’m doing running. But it works for me. A new ‘training’ plan, stripped back to just 3 runs a week. Feels like it gives me a chance to line up at London with a solid chance of finishing. But even more so, it will lead me on to June and completing the challenge I’ve always wanted since I started running The Wall - 69 miles. In fact I’ve worked out such a slow pacing schedule I know I can complete that come what may. 

And that’s the point isn’t it. I’m not going to win. Shit, I mostly come last lately. But I finish. I’m in no hurry to get to the end and maybe that makes me not a runner. But I’ve got enough going on without worrying about that too. I’m out there, I’m moving and yes my running pace is currently that of an average walker (trust me, all my fitness app tell me I’ve been for a VERY long walk not a run lately) but it’s me, moving. 

Why are we all in such a hurry anyway? I hit those times a couple of years ago that I’m sure many runners would die for. I don’t expect to hit them again. It’s not the game I’m into. If I’m going to spend £50 or more entering a race or event I may as well get my money’s worth! And if I’m going to train for those races knowing that, then what’s my hurry. Why am I so keen to reach the end, when actually I’d quite like to enjoy the journey. I’m still moving. I’m still doing the distance and I am not walking! 

I’ve given up anything that goes against this ethos - my runs still post to Strava but I’ve turned off notifications, I don’t open the app, add photos, give my jaunts pithy titles. Yes I collect the data from my garmin and actually I still take photos on a run. (No selfies currently) but I don’t want to put myself in the target of those that may not get what I’m doing. 3 hours for a 10 mile run....is probably less speed of chat and more speed of in-depth conversation. But at the moment I’m doing nearly all my running alone. So it isn’t hurting anyone. Race day, I’m sure there’ll be people who won’t understand. But I’ve discovered quite a little crowd of us at the back. We have a lot of fun. We look around, we take it in and we put our hearts out there. I’m not saying others don’t do all that too. But I promise you when the crowds have all gone and they’re packing up the finish - it’s a lonely place to be so we may as well get what we can before that point! 

My new therapist asked me last week “why on earth are you running so far?” - what was I trying to prove? It was a fair question. Some of my races have been very long, but actually not as long as they could be. And this year, I’ve got my longest ever. I didn’t think I was trying to prove anything. Other than that I’m alive. Maybe it is a weird test of endurance, to say - “hey, look I’ve got through life so this shit ain’t ever going to beat me!” But I don’t know, really. I do know I like running far. I hate 5k. I’ve talked about this before. It sucks. Slow, fast, walking. Blah. I’ve discovered I warm up at the 8 mile mark. And cause I don’t care how long it’s taking me, well I can just keep going. Every race I’ve got now has a cut-off that allows for this, those that don’t. Well I may not start. They’ve been my DNS this year so far. Tight times. I’m in no place to push a pace and I don't’ know if I ever will be again. 

Everyone has been kind since my last blog post. I can’t say things have got better. But I am running. Jules spotted actually I’ve gone over 80 miles now this year and maybe by the end of the week I’ll hit 100. I’m sticking to the plan. And I’m being me. A plodder. A walk/runner. A jogger. Whatever. Kick me out of your race cause I’m too slow, that’s fine. But I’ll be found up on the North Downs or the Greensand way pootling along. Cause I can. And cause right now, it’s all I’ve got! 

If you’ve read this and relate and fancy helping me hit my targets, Breast Cancer Now would be really grateful. 

My fundraising page