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?

Race to what....

Well that’s it, I’ve run 53 miles in one go.  Race to the Tower - the Broadway Tower in Worcestershire, which (by the way) I still haven’t seen as it was shrouded in mist and just a green and purple haze from the giant lights at it’s feet.

The word is that it’s an amazing achievement, unbelievable, inspirational, epic, awesome - keep coming with the superlatives. I’ve heard them all. 

It’s been a while since I last wrote a blog. Pre-Limassol when I ducked out of the marathon and did the half (which quite frankly was the right decision as I was not impressed by that race). Since then my training has been on and off. I ran Bewl Marathon but, to be honest, I probably didn’t do the required miles for a 50+ ultra. I did do my hill training though - which has turned out to be more useful than I could have imagined! 

I could spend endless words describing the race, the good points, the bad points. The brilliant organisation of Threshold. The joy of seeing friends at the start and on route. The benefits of Run Mummy Run or UKRunchat at events like this. I could....but I won’t. What I will do is thank some people - Lucy, whom I met for the first time at about mile 5 and we passed each other at various points until at half way we had some food and drink together. Then set out for the second half and ended up sticking together. Her walking pace (due to injury) my running pace! We climbed stupid stiles together, laughed together, shared stories of life, dragged each other up endless hills and she even had to suffer my singing a few times. But she was awesome, unbelievable, amazing and inspirational. And didn’t leave me. Even on that last hideous hill when I struggled to motivate myself to the top. Okay so she out sprinted me on the finish line, but hell - I’ll forgive her that. 

Keeley - my wife - who for the first time properly acted as race support. Turning up in places I didn’t expect (so i nearly missed her) and in places i did (even though I was hours late). Saying hello to other friends, offering them all sorts of useful and non-useful items....but still smiling, still waving and cheering all the runners whether she knew them or not. Right until 4 in the morning! 

Jules - who sat up through the day and night watching a tiny blue dot move across a map, ever more slowly as time went on. Sending me messages of support, making me laugh and virtually cheering me to the finish. 

Yep that was my first 50+ ultra. Should I stop there? Should i tell the truth? It was hard and hilly. The equivalent of climbing Snowdon twice (apparently) - over 7000 feet in elevation. Timings slipped early on. Feet started hurting before even pitstop two and at half way my first ever blister had appeared, popped and was being taped up. Another 26.2 meant i slowed to slower than walking pace (next time I’ll learn to walk faster) and i went from an 8 hour marathon to an 11 hour marathon. Vaseline became my new best friend. The dark created challenges I had expected but hadn’t understood. Tiredness and lack of sleep leads to the mind fixating on just reaching the finish. And you cannot underestimate the effect of focusing on one thing and one thing only for 19 hours and 22 minutes. I have a new found respect for those that go further and faster. 

At the finish - as sunlight was beginning to reappear I couldn’t enjoy any of the Threshold hospitality - instead I was suitably sick and whisked away by my amazing wife. Not even able to properly say goodbye and thank you to the equally amazing Lucy! 

There were plenty of mistakes made along the way. Plenty of lessons to learn. Plenty of things to consider - if and when there is a next time. I hear you laugh “of course there is a next time”. But no decision until I come back from holiday. Why? It’s simple really. It all feels a bit ‘meh’. I haven’t celebrated. Tonight was my first drink of alcohol since I finished. People send messages of congratulations and I just feel slightly fraudulent. I’ve joked that perhaps I have PTSD or PTRD....I should feel elated, high - right? The good news is my legs feel great. They felt strong. Still feel strong. My feet and lovely chafing not so much. And that’s it really. I’m disappointed. I didn’t do as I expected. It wasn’t the glorious finish - it wasn’t target 1, 2, 3 or even 20. I joked I had 24 hours and I was only a few hours short of needing them. 

My fear is when I feel this way I like to go back and race again - Beachy being a race in point. But I don’t want to go back to RTTT. I never want to see those hills again. I’d like to go back and visit the Cotswolds - maybe even get to see the tower. But 53 miles of that is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone! Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, I laughed and smiled, chatted and jazz hands. Ate and selfied. It was beautiful and well organised. But it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done and in that it became more than perhaps I knew it could be....meaning reaching the finish could never match that. It could never be the achievement I needed it to be, at least not yet. I’m hopeful over time and reflection, after other races maybe, it will dawn on me what I have done. And I won’t just feel ‘meh’ - I’ll feel proud. 

Time to be me....

It’s time to confess I’m a fraud - the person you all think you see, the things you think I do - they aren’t the reality of me, who I am, how I live. What I think and feel inside is very different to the person you see in hundreds and thousands of selfies. I’m not a big one for sharing the real me, the truth behind the facade, it’s taken years of practice to hide the real me, only letting out snippets and for a long time this has felt the best way to be. A safe place to hide. But lately i can’t hide it any more. Lately things haven’t gone so well. Lately I’ve felt a call to finally be me.

Since I was 12 years old I’ve experienced depression, not all the time and at varying degrees of severity. Sometimes it has taken me to the very edge of life itself and I’ve worked hard in many different ways to try and come through it. Find ways to cope with it. Find ways to live my life to the best it can be. Happiness is something we’re all taught to seek out at all costs. But recently I’ve begun to understand we can’t be happy all of the time. The phrase “it’s okay not be okay” has to be embraced. It doesn’t mean trying to force yourself out of that position. It means learning to live with all the emotions life throws at you.

(Illustration Sow Ay - see more https://www.boredpanda.com/anxiety-depression-illustrations-comics-sow-ay/)
I’m starting my journey again. Learning new skills. New ways of being. It’s not easy and I’m not comfortable with it. But I’m trying. On the most recent downward spiral the first thing that fell away was running. I completed my first every ultra - Race to the Stones - 100km over two days with my running family Danny and Jules. We smashed it. Went through the pain. The agony. The mental challenges - but finished running, smiling and with a few tears. We made new friends on route and shared experiences that will stay with us forever. Without doubt the highlight of my running journey so far.

But afterwards I was tired. Physically and mentally. We put so much in, it isn’t surprising it took so much out. Stupidly I’d entered a marathon just 4 weeks later and as the day approached I knew I couldn’t do it. The pressure of that feeling, the painful realisation that actually everything wasn’t okay - combined with the pressures of life outside of running started to cause my carefully constructed world to unravel. Downgrading from the marathon to the half seemed a simple step, not as simple as going to my GP to ask for help. Not as simple as confessing to my wife and my best friend that I wasn’t coping anymore. But the two things collided and following the weekend of Salisbury Half Marathon I didn’t run a step for a month.

When I returned to running - a short 3km around Mote Park, I found my legs were rested and felt strong. My lungs didn’t feel quite the same and my mind was still playing tricks on me. Since then I’ve tried some longer runs with friends and without. I’ve managed a 5k run around Mote Park without stopping and this weekend I’m going to return to Maidstone parkrun for the first time as a runner in 2 months. When I can’t cope with life around me the first thing I do is withdraw. If I can’t withdraw then I fix that smile to my face and become the best actor in the world. Talking about other people is far easier than talking about yourself. No one ever looks past the response of ‘I’m fine’ to the question of ‘how are you?’.
Why though am I suddenly sharing the truth? Tonight I went to an event organised by the Kent Sports Trust about how sport changes lives. So many inspirational speakers, sharing their journeys. Reminding us all we have a journey and chance to inspire others. People often tell me I’m an inspiration. I did go from over 18 stone to where I am now - I run marathons, I take selfies, I like to encourage others to run and enjoy themselves. Not for times or glory but for fun and friendship. But I do it all the time knowing I’m hiding the truth about myself. I don’t feel inspirational, I don’t feel like I’m deserving of any praise. By helping others I’m actually doing my best to try and hide anyone from looking deep enough to see me.
My absolute hero is Dame Kelly Holmes. When you hear her speak so openly about her demons, her past struggle with depression, with self-harm, the journey she took. It resonates so deeply inside of me. I’m no Olympian but that feeling of isolation, of despair, of self-loathing is one I recognise and relate to. The fact she can talk so openly about it is something I’ve aspired to and felt too afraid to do. What if alarm bells ring so loudly....will the risks be worth the results? I’m about to find out!

I want to encourage others to run. To look after themselves. To find that space in life that running gives me. My mind disappears into nothingness. Only when I run do the voices in my head stop talking. The questions about work, about money, about when to tidy the house, who’s done the laundry, have we enough volunteers for parkrun, what’s happening on Facebook.....running is my solace. It took me from someone losing weight, to someone who’s lost weight. To someone who can achieve a 5k, a 10k, a half marathon, a marathon, an ultra. Someone who can find freedom in that space and who also found friendship. People I could start to open up with - as frankly if I can poo myself mid-run with you then I can tell you I cry myself to sleep at night.
At the moment I want to try and keep running, I’ve got Royal Parks Half shortly, then Beachy Head marathon - then who knows what around the corner. But I know it isn’t easy. People say the hardest step is that first step out the door. It can be. But actually they can all be hard. They can all feel impossible. Even when you finish it doesn’t have to be this great cathartic, spiritual experience. Running sometimes does suck! But that ability to keep trying. To keep going. To find friends who will go with you. Who will walk when you want to walk. Wait when you’re lagging behind. Realise you need to stop to take a selfie as otherwise you’ll die any moment. Those people who won’t ask you how fast you ran, or judge you because you can’t stick to a training plan.

But also to find those who are experienced runners. Who have that ability to crash through the self-imposed barriers. Who break their PBs, win those races, strive to be better, faster, fitter. But still - some days just turn up and run for fun, alongside you and your slightly podgy, sweaty, struggling body. That’s what makes it worthwhile. That’s what tells you - actually it could all be okay, because yes it IS okay not be okay, in running and in life.

Holding out for a Hero

It's over. Two marathons in two weeks. Fundraising. Training. Job done. End of blog. 
But it's never that simple is it - my blog isn't about race reviews, or trying to entice you into running. Instead I'm trying to give you an insight into how someone who was 18 stone, inactive and had no thoughts of running has reached 7 Marathons. But also what that means emotionally, how it fits into the context of life. And I like to make you laugh (now and then).
It seems fitting I've started writing this whilst Mind Over Marathon is on BBC1 - the inspirational stories of 10 people with mental health issues training for the London Marathon. I live my life knowing what you see in someone isn't always what's going on underneath. You can't tell where someone has been and what's got them there. My personal experience is just that - personal and there's a reason I make sure I smile around every race I do. One day that may too make it into a blog.
Running has changed my life, it gives me a renewed purpose. Freedom. Space to breath. Oh and to eat cake. I love connecting with people through running. Everyone with different goals but respecting those goals and knowing they're all as valid. It also helps you deal with the unexpected. Things never quite go to plan. Paris was super hot, beautiful - well organised, full of fun and one to enjoy. I felt strong and enjoyed every moment from the early stages running with Liz to the later parts dodging walkers and taking selfies.

London though I had a goal. I wanted to help Danny achieve his PB. We would all run together and celebrate in the moment at the end. There was never a moment in my life I imagined standing at the start of the London marathon with a large group of friends. Taking selfies. Laughing. Feeling like it's a regular Sunday run. The sun was shining and it was already feeling like a special day. Somehow in running I've discovered I'm really good at pacing. So that was my role. Keep us at a steady pace. Not going off too fast and finish strong. Oh and have a bloody good laugh whilst we did it.


Well plans sometimes change. And perfect pacing is great until injury strikes and you need to re-evaluate. It would turn into one of those days. The why's and wherefores don't matter. But needless to say Danny is an ultimate hero as nothing would stop him reaching that finish and I just wanted to do it with him. My mind was cast back to Beachy when I struggled so much and Jules stuck with me. Today that's what I wanted to do for Danny! So we ran from physio to physio. Friends to friends supporting. Laughing. Cheering. Waving. A slightly unfortunate run-in with a portaloo in one tunnel (a few drinks may get you that story!) The occasional swear word and at the end a few tears. It was my favourite run ever. It was everything that running is for me. And it was everything that running has given me.

Everyone who runs a marathon is a hero. They aren't easy. Although I've run 7 I'm still amazed it's something I do, something I can do, something I enjoy to do. You have to dig into places that come from years of discovering what your resolve is built on. I've been lucky to date - I've got through fairly unscathed but I've learned to admire and respect those who have to dig just that little bit more as things don't go to plan. So congratulations to everyone that crossed the finish on Sunday - be it London or somewhere else. Let's see what we can do next!


Thank you to everyone that sponsored me for these two runs. I was running for New Family Social - a small charity for whom I'm their only runner. But many LGBT families who foster or adopt will all benefit from your generosity.
http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/JoFrazerWise

This time it's personal!

Just over three weeks until Paris marathon - under French law you need a medical certificate to run in races. So off I toddled to my GP having paid my £20 I needed a brief exam and his signature and stamp. I was far from worried as this would be my 6th marathon and look I'm not 18 stone any more but the fittest I've ever been in my life! My doctor agreed as my blood pressure was normal, my resting heart rate was low (he said a sign I'm fit). One last check of my lungs and listening to my heart - ended with him saying "oh you have a slight murmur?", "yes that's right, since I was a baby, it's on my records". 

I was born with a heart condition, I remember being tested and treated. Trips to doctors and hospitals, tiredness, being able to sit out of games at school. Ultrasounds when I was a teenager and endless ECGs, blood tests and generally being told it was as regular a murmur you can get and there was little to worry about. Well until 30 years later and I needed a medical certificate signing! As it was my GP signed my certificate but insisted I have some tests just to check nothing had changed. Personally I felt a little that this wasn't necessary but anything to ensure I could not only run Paris but not have to worry about running at all! 

It's funny to be confronted with the real possibility someone may tell you that you shouldn't be running. Of course no one can tell you that you can't run - it could only ever be advisory - but still it would be strong advice and hard to ignore. That said I was pretty clear I would ignore it. Absolutely. What would I do with out running? Get fat again? Take up something else - god I hate swimming! It just doesn't bear thinking about. Besides I've got 21 miles to run before I even think about these tests! 

What a great run it was - a typical Sunday Selfie Runner speed of chat, goat stops, tea stops and cake. I don't mind how long it take me I just enjoy the journey. So over 5 hours of leisurely stop start running. Oh and 36 photos uploaded to Strava - whoops i got over excited !

The good news is I've had my ECG and nope it wasn't normal. But it was normal for me and showed no sign of any major problems so my GP is happy with it. One more scan just to check me out but all seems fine. No one is going to stop me gradually getting slower and slower! Well okay not quite - but no one is going to stop me running. Even better I'm in good condition - as I said as fit as I've ever been. From being a "sickly" child I'm a fit, marathon running adult. I may not ever get any faster. Maybe I'll remember to be careful (it's why I always run with a chest based HRM) and also fill my race bib out on the back! 

It's been an unexpected chance to reflect on where I've come from, where I'm going and how amazing it is I run marathons for fun! Paris and London in two weeks is a challenge I'm excited about - but one I know I can make (after all not my first double marathon challenge) and one I know I'll enjoy. What's not to love about London? Even better I'm running for a charity I care about and am their only runner! Yes that brings pressure as I want to raise as much money as I can but also I know they're happy with whatever I make them and the publicity. 

So just three weeks and I'll have completed marathon number six. It is likely to be my one and only French race as who knows what a future Doctor will decide over my murmur. Which means I'll make the most of it. Soak in every moment. Perhaps take a few selfies? It's the only way I know how to run nowadays but perhaps more than ever this marathon now represents what running has become for me. How much it's changed my life. How much it brings to my life. This time it's very much personal!

Thank you :
A huge thank you to everyone who bought tickets in my raffle and most of all to those who donated prizes. They were all very personal to me - things I love on my runs like Buttercups Goat Sanctuary, Little Fant Farm and things I love running with like Flipbelts, egloves, Energy Snacks and Scimitar shirts. The running community which has meant so much to me Run Mummy Run and UKRunChat and all those wonderful things to do post run - foam roller, drink wine, eat Freddos or Krispy Kremes! And of course peanut butter.....