This is the way

I'd planned to write a post before the end of the old year, particularly as 2020 was a quiet one for me on the blog front. Certainly it wasn't quiet on any other front! But better late than never and why not start the new year with a desire to try and blog a bit more? 

No resolutions. They are too easily broken, too easy to use to make yourself feel bad or a failure. If 2020 taught us anything we should start the new year with a desire to be a little bit kinder to ourselves and others. 

But this is meant to be a running blog - so what of my running? Well just a few short weeks ago at the start of November I was flying. Faster, fitter, feeling great. My fastest time for a 5k in 3 years thanks to my Racer Pacer friends - where we support each other to keep going, getting out for runs when we could as a group of 6 and then in pairs. Mostly jeffing with a 2/1 cycle of running and walking and it paid off. 

But then the second lockdown, the rise in cases meant a rise in workload and I slipped off the track. Still going out though so nothing terrible. But Christmas excess and the ever increasing rise in festive drinking, only matched by the ever increasing size of my belly, was never going to end well. (Oh I did try one of those 28 days without alcohol things, I quit on day 21 - it wasn't for me....as a friend said though 2/3rds is better than nothing!)

I've wanted to try and support James with an incredible distance challenge for ending the year so despite not really feeling it I thought I'd end the year with a run. Notch up another (not)parkrun for Maidstone...(that's probably a whole blog in itself) - so out for a 5k jaunt around the streets where I lived before beginning the New Year festivities. It started off well, but not even 1km in the shin splints started. A sure sign for me of excess and overweight. I struggled on. But before even 2k was texting home to say I  would probably cut it short. Starting to feel very sorry for myself, already the demon voices in my head working out how slow this would be, how out of shape, how unfit, how, how, how....STOP! 

Enough. As the wonderful Christmas present given to me says 'Just trying to be better not the best'. I was out there. I was trying. It wasn't great but it was something. I am something. Don't end 2020 beating myself up, feeling bad, going home grumpy and miserable. That was so 2019. This was my year of recovery. Of realising I could survive anything. Of understanding my mental strength and what mattered and what doesn't matter. Finish the 5k and take the win. 

So I did. I have. This year I've got races planned and I don't expect them to be cancelled. Two ultras in the summer. Something to shoot for. But I do wonder if perhaps in my heart I'm just happy where I am? I want to make sure I can complete them. But I also want to stop always striving for something that just feels out of reach, instead of perhaps just enjoying the journey? Not sure, too early in the year to tell yet. But you will be the first to know - I promise! 

Lockdown Lowdown

Well, this finds us all in a strange place doesn’t it? Lockdown. The world overwhelmed with a virus that we don’t fully understand, other than it spreads quickly, it kills many and it has resulted in a change to our reality that we probably still don’t fully comprehend. We can try and jump into a new reality or we can stop for a moment and allow ourselves to catch up. I know for one that I need to catch up. My mind is exploding and the reality I had found myself in has been replaced, not necessarily with something worse but with something so different if I don’t stop for a moment, well who knows?

Up to 2 weeks ago things were pretty normal. Back working, in something I was very much enjoying. Running again - including managing a half marathon in under 3 hours with no training. Even involved in parkrun again each weekend. 

And now? Now we’re allowed out for one piece of exercise a day - running, walking or on your bike. No more. At the moment allowed to go for as long as we need, although asked to be sensible and stay close to home. If we abuse it or if things get worse this will be taken away. It’s great people are now exercising regularly. We feel if we don’t take it we’ve somehow missed out and it’s a way of keeping us sane. If we used to swim, or spin then this is all we have. I never used to exercise every day, other than my walk to the station and home again. I had just started to run again regularly but now I’m using my once a day to go out with Keeley, my wife. We’ve all become attached to our one exercise a day, quite rightly as it’s all we have and if you think you’re going to lose something you hold on to what you’ve got. 

And in that is how we keep ourselves together. We need to hold on to what we’ve got. Our humanity. Our compassion. Our kindness. Before all this happened I’d finished reading Rising Strong by Brene Brown. Her focus on vulnerability, shame and daring greatly is just what we need right now. We are face down in the arena and this is where we need to pick ourselves up and face where we are, without falling into traps of nostalgia for a past that’s gone but also through the fundamental belief that everyone around us is doing the best they can. We are far from perfect. Each of us. We may not like everyone around us. How could we? Why should we? But we can believe that even those we think are arseholes are just doing the best they can, with the set of circumstances they’ve been given. 

I’ve made mistakes this week. I’ve been judgemental. Misunderstood. Angry. Sad. Falling into the rabbit warren of social media - like White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland “I’m late, I’m late” - late to understanding what matters, what’s important and what we need to hold on to. But I’m here now. I’m settling into to a new routine, making sure I give myself time and do what I need within the boundaries we’ve been set. And I know people think those boundaries don’t go far enough and I think likely they’ll get tighter, but we cannot judge others for following the new rules. We need to look at ourselves and our own behaviour. Trust others to look at theirs. Mud slinging. Personal politics. This isn’t the time for that. 

We can get through this, today on our walk we stood 2 metres way from Sally and had a lovely chat. We talked about trauma, the need to reflect, feel, and not close down or just move on - this is about processing. If we do that and support those around us through they’re own steps we can get through. If we judge and question and spend the next 6 weeks on social media, well we will get through but we’ll go insane.

 In the same way I’ve given up strava and comparing myself to people when I run, this is a time to stick to our own swim-lane. We can support the other swimmers in the pool, cheer when they finish and offer them encouragement but we don’t need to compare. We just need to be. That’s what will get us through, let’s just be....

Happy to be alive

Here I am, nearly a year on from when everything fell apart in my life. It was only the second week in February 2019 when I was shocked to hear a GP tell me “you’re not safe to go to work” - incredulous at first, but then too exhausted to argue. She was completely right. I had passed the point of no return and every little thing was another blow I couldn’t quite deal with, a nail in a coffin that I felt I was building myself. Just trying to work out the best time to put myself into it. We really don’t notice when our world begins to fall apart, I think that I have a fairly good understanding of what made this time so different but that’s in hindsight. At the time you’re just trying to keep going, day after day. You don’t want to let anyone down. You don’t want to seem a failure because you can’t cope. You don’t want to admit to yourself that actually its more serious and you’re not well. 

This is what makes serious depression a mental illness and not a passing moment that you’ll get over. There are other things, of course. And we all feel sad, depressed, anxious, lost at different moments in our lives. But these can be at very different levels and require very different interventions. 

What made 2019 different to all my other periods of being depressed wasn’t how deep and dark I fell, but how much I worked to really understand why and what was happening. Opening myself up to pain I had locked away. Exploring the very depths of my soul and my mind. I put the work in. And it has paid off. It has not been an easy journey and at times I really thought I wouldn’t make it this time. There is a big gulf between suicide ideation and actually killing yourself. I know that and I’ve always been more into thoughts, feelings but not believing I would carry them out. But this time I had a plan. I had a method. I had a motive, so I believed. I’ll never be 100% sure why I didn’t go through with it. I’m grateful that I didn’t. I’m grateful to those that gave me support in my darkest hours - Keeley, Tor, Jules and Lynn alongside my therapist Carolyn. I’m grateful to the others that watched from the sidelines - either virtually or in person and offered support in different ways. Not being one who is always open to such things I did hear every word, read every tweet, digest every message. 

Then I’m grateful to the books I read that helped put things in perspective. Of course I couldn’t read in my darkest days, I could barely get out of bed. But Audible became my friend and as I worked through my pain these words helped give perspective - most especially Lost Connections by Johann Hari and My Sh*t Therapist by Michelle Thomas. Michelle’s words to me whilst I was on holiday, telling me to “hold on” were literally a life saver. 

Despite all this support and probably the best therapy I’ve ever had in my life (Google EMDR it is amazing) - I know this one was my win. I did the work. I put the time in. I got up from the floor time after time and chose to keep living. I wanted to get through. And I have. I’ve learned lots about myself. My past. My inner demons. I know that happiness isn’t a thing we achieve. It’s something that comes to us in moments. Sometimes fleeting. Sometimes hard to grasp. We need, I need to stop chasing a dream. Living in the moment and accepting. Most of all accepting me. Knowing I am good enough. Knowing I’m like a bottle of L’Oreal and very much worth it. Brene Brown has begun to teach me about the power of vulnerability. With honesty comes risk. But if we don’t take those risks then we aren’t alive. And we certainly are never going to achieve things. I don’t think I’ll ever be completely free of depression. I certainly won’t ever fully understand all the emotions I feel and how to process them. But I believe I now have the routine and the tools to work within that. The waves will rock me and I may still feel like I’m sinking, but I know where the lifeboats are until this one is saved! 

This morning I went for a run. Did my hill training. No one knows about it because I’ve turned off my Strava. Even better I bumped into Sally and we had a fabulous chat about mental health. Connection is important (see reference above to Lost Connections). She had some very wise words about staying still. Not chasing after things. The best lesson I learned was to stop chasing a false idea of happiness. To accept me. To accept the world around me. I may be a grumpy bugger a lot of the time but I think it has come from fear. Fear of letting people see me. But frankly now everyone knows a lot about me thanks to this blog! And it’s so important to me that others do not fall into those traps of thinking. Positivity is wonderful. It’s important in the right circumstance. But it cannot fix things that are broken. You can. If you’re open to it. And once they’re fixed, or at least you’ve accepted them, that positivity will become what you need it to be, in the right place and time. Chasing after what you want in life may not bring it to you. Or you may run right past it without realising it is there all the time. Working out what your ideal life really involves brings up surprises. Then rather than chasing a dream you can work towards it. 

2019 was an amazing year for me. Out of my darkness came some of my greatest achievements. I stood on top of the world at the Half MDS and cried my heart out. Not only for what I was doing (and from fear) but with relief. That I had allowed myself to live so I could take part in something so amazing. That it took me to people I love having in my life now (you know who you are Von Trapps and MDSers). That I received so many messages of support and of love that I knew they must be true. It isn’t a lie to say I think about that race every day. My wife kindly gave me a fabulous memory photo book for Christmas made up of snaps from the race. I keep it by my bed so I can remember and be reminded of how it made me feel and how strong I really am. 

And now it’s a year on - but it wasn’t just about last year. This has been a lifetime in the making for me. For the first time though I know I’m in control. Leaving my job in November was a huge risk. But it was a giant leap of faith that paid off. I gained freedom to make the right decisions for me about my future. I no longer feel scared. I’m back feeling confident in who I am and what I can give to the world. I’m running, albeit slowly. I’m enjoying being back at parkrun as a participant and most of all as a volunteer. You never know I may even join the Selfies on a slow run one day (if they’ll have me back!). Or I won’t. That’s the joy of my life now. I’m not confined by what I should do. No more shoulds. No more just saying yes. The best thing about your story is that you get to write the ending....

Picture credits: Sow_ay, Cleo Wade and Brene Brown - and me! 

Knowing when to stop

A few weeks ago I happily announced that I was going to start walking more races instead of running - people mistakenly took this as my announcing I was over with running. I’m not - but out in Fuerteventura I discovered that sometimes just finishing is better than worrying about time, or how much you run. Perhaps if I’d had a break once I got home to properly recover I wouldn’t have made this announcement. But the fact is these last two months have been my busiest in activity all year. 

Two weeks after the Half MDS finished, still with blistered feet and tired limbs I headed to London to take part in my 6th Royal Parks Half. It was my first Half Marathon back in 2014 and would be my last fundraising race for Breast Cancer Now. The weather was perhaps the worst I’ve known it for a Royal Parks, with the race village area a horrific mud bath, meaning feet were wet and muddy before the start. That said I was surprised to find myself running and running quite well once the race started. I had started at the very back, not worried about time or pace. But my feet kept me moving, until about mile 10 - when I realised that wrapping yourself round and round the park really wasn’t as exciting as climbing mountains. I had seen a few people I knew and at this point it was really lovely to see three of my Half MDS buddies, where I shared just how bored I was with road racing! I had text my wife too just before saying I was starting to find it really dull and with that my running slowed, I began to walk run. The rain began to fall. It’s was cold and wet and I realised, that perhaps, road racing was over for me. 

I finished in under 3 hours, which I hadn’t expected. Time wasn’t important - after all I’m a long long way off my 2 hour Half Marathon times of old. The experience was fun, but also eye opening in how much I’ve changed perspective of what I want from a race. No one questions your time when you’re going a long way. No one stops to ask why you’re walking. No one cares your walking. Partly because no one is watching. It’s just you. The race. The other competitors. Plenty to think about as I trudged home soaked to the skin and still covered in mud. 

Two weeks after this, so just 4 weeks after Half MDS had finished I had Beachy Head Marathon. Now I wasn’t expecting to even do Beachy this year, we’d entered to walk it together Keeley and I. But she has injured her knee so instead we were going to go away for our wedding anniversary but we changed our minds and this meant, well yes I could use my entry to Beachy. My 3rd visit there. It will most definitely be my last. It’s another great race and ticks all the boxes for a trail marathon. Great support. Great scenery. Challenging conditions and sausage rolls at 18 miles.  I had started off seeing a few people I knew. Again not worried about time with a plan to run/walk and aim for at longest an hour per 5k. Run/walking - which i was doing. Until I decided I wasn’t. Then I was walking. Which was fine. My feet were still a bit sore and blistered but so far other than the wind the weather had held off what was it’s horrific forecast of gales and rain. Reaching my sausage roll was wonderful. I knew I wouldn’t be doing this race again so enjoyed every mouthful. Even trying a second. But i was tired. My body was tired and it would only get worse as we entered the hardest part of the race. Which was when the weather turned. Stupidly I hadn’t put on the jacket I was carrying at the last pit stop. So when the rain began i was soaked in seconds. No point wearing it now. Plus it was cold. The climbs of the Seven Sisters didn’t phase me. All those climbs in Fuerteventura have given me perspective. But i was dressed for run/walking not walking - so the conditions became tough. I knew it was going to be dark when I finished. I was slowing. 

But then we reached Beachy Head. I saw the emergency Chaplain van and I thought how strange it was to be back here again. The first year I ran with Jules I was right on the edge of my mental strength, it was all about to crumble away and the race simply became a battle for me mentally. In 2017 I ran it thinking I was doing so much better but little realising how much more there was to come. And all this year I had often thought about taking myself to Beachy, not for a nice day out but to end it all. It’s was one of the options on my shortlist. Although I was cold. Wet. Tired. I was alive. And I want to be alive. For a moment tears filled my eyes and then I thought “fuck this” as I so desperately wanted to finish. I can’t tell you how awful the conditions now were. Wind that nearly pushed you over. Stinging rain. So NOT the lovely sunshine I have discovered I like running in. 

Even worse when it was finally over (muted celebrations, soaking wet, cold, everything closed as it was nearly cut-off time) I had to drive myself home. Nothing glamorous about this race.  

And then two weeks later, so just 6 weeks after finishing the Half MDS, i packed my WAA ultra kit bag and headed off to Swindon to take part in XNRG’s Druids Challenge. Having been too ill to try Pilgrims in February this was my alternative. 3 days along the ridgeway. Sleeping in community centres. This time I was prepared to be a walker. I’d packed trousers and the right kit. My WAA bag turns out to be more comfortable than I’d realised, having used my old UD bag at Beachy it just wasn’t for me. 29 miles day 1. 27 miles day 2 and 28 miles day 3. Or something like that. A long way. 

Turns out too far for me. Day 1 was fine. I enjoyed every moment. Well nearly every moment. Once it got dark and I was on my own it wasn’t such fun. Meeting a group of people I knew at the last checkpoint I hurriedly followed them out of the checkpoint so I wasn’t too far on my own. Sticking to the guy in front of me like glue. Running when he did just so I didn’t feel lost and alone in the dark. Overnight was the horror show I expected it to be. Dirty cold showers. Freezing cold hall. The only saving grace was I managed to acquire one of the spare camp beds so I wasn’t on the floor! Oh and my period had arrived a nice 2 weeks early. One of the fabulous XNRG crew drove me to the Co-op so I wasn’t left with an even bigger disaster. But all this combined to make Day 2 an experience I simply didn’t expect. 

It was ice cold in the morning - like literally ice. I had dressed in my trousers and walking gear as I knew the forecast was terrible. This part of the route started to join the Race to the Stones course so there wasn’t even anything new about it. But it was fun. I was having fun. It was all I love. Like minded people. Snatches of conversation. Beautiful scenery. Great check points. Amazing marshals. I was doing really well. Had a good pace. Until we hit the Thames stretch where it was deep mud and I slowed. My limbs felt sore and tired. And the rain began. Leaving Checkpoint 3 i was beginning to struggle. I had tried singing all the songs I knew - including an entire rendition of the sound of music. But i was getting slower. Up on the ridgeway where the wind and rain became incessant i began to cry. This was not fun. Then finally my shoes gave way and i realised i had wet feet. My double socks were no longer keeping me dry. I was so cold. My hands were in wet gloves. The jacket was clinging to my triple layers but still i was getting wet. I was at about 21 miles. I knew the last checkpoint wasn’t far and then it was 4 miles to the finish. I began to think about the next day. How slow I was at walking. How I hadn’t managed any running. I knew that it as unlikely I was going to try for Day 3. Another 9 hours of this wasn’t looking like something I would enjoy. I was just so slow. If I could run a bit or be a bit quicker then maybe. But i was tired. 

As I cried I realised that actually I had nothing left to prove. I had about a kilometre to the last checkpoint. At my pace that was about 12 minutes. I could stop. Just stop. Another 4 miles would take me easily a couple of hours. I was soaked. The weather was getting worse. Just stop. 

So I did. I walked into the checkpoint to be greeted by one of the amazing team and asked “who do I speak to about stopping” - they tried to talk me out of it but I was sure. There was  another woman who was injured who was waiting to be rescued and we both got driven back to the sports centre in Didcot that was the Day 2 sleep spot. Realising I would have to spend another night sleeping out as they couldn’t recover me to my car until the next day I looked at a map and was able to call on my hero Charles who lived near by and came to rescue me and take me back to my car at the finish. They gave me a medal for my efforts of day 1 and in total I had completed 52 miles. 

Since then I haven’t really done much. One parkrun. My feet are no longer blistered. My body is recovering. I’ve got races next year. And yes I’ll be walking some of them, but I’ll be running too. I can’t spend 9 hours on my feet it’s too long. So I need to get some fitness back. Lose some weight. Take my time but know I can get back to being a run/walker. Walking has its place but for me not over those distances. I take my hat off to those that did Day 3 and it took them 9, 10, 11 hours. That’s a long time on your feet. Those at the back deserve our praise. 

And here is the thing. I felt fine about it all. I still feel fine about it all. No regrets. No second guessing. No ‘oh but I could have....’ it was the right decision for me. The best decision and in that moment of knowing when to stop I realised I’m getting better. I’ve found who I am and who I want to be. Who i can be. I pushed myself but I also respected myself, was kind to myself and said ‘enough’.  Since that moment I’ve taken that into other areas of my life. Leaving my employer of over 13 years and looking to see what adventures lie ahead. Recovery is just that - being kind to yourself. Taking the moments you need. Making the most of the moments you have. It’s not easy. Life isn’t. But now I’ve learned there is nothing to prove in pushing yourself beyond your limits. Don’t get me wrong, pushing, striving, achieving all has it’s place. The Half MDS taught me that. I went way beyond my limits and came out flying. Druids taught me that you don’t have to do that every time. Only you know when it’s right to push and when actually some things are more important.  Listen to yourself and no one else. And whatever you decide it’s the right decision! 

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/

Cracked....not broken

Wow, only 3 blog posts last year and clearly my race to the tower not only impacted my running but my ability to share my inane words with you as nothing since June?!

As any of you will know from social media, I’m still alive and I didn’t stop running totally after RTTT.  I had Salisbury Marathon in August (which nearly did kill me) and then Loch Ness in September.  I gave myself 4 weeks after the disaster of Salisbury to get fit for Loch Ness. It totally worked, don’t believe anyone who says you can’t marathon train in 4 weeks! Went from a 7hr 17 marathon to 5 hr 41....and then followed that up with a glorious Royal Parks Half in 2hr 40. 

Since then, meh - the odd parkrun, the occasional selfie run - nothing further than 10 miles and a DNS for the end of year 10 miler race. Also a change in plans - with so little running the thought of doing the Pilgrims Challenge at the start of Feb was too much pressure. Back to back 32 miles is not the kind of 4 week training plan I think would work. Instead I’m now in the Druids Challenge for November. 

All my races this year are to raise money for Breast Cancer Now, back in July last year I applied to them for a London Marathon Place as I knew - even if I got in the ballot I wanted to raise funds for them. My eldest sister has completed her fight against breast cancer and won, it’s been a really hard fought few years for her and the family. If I can do something, anything to make that easier for others then why not.  People have been so generous in their donations and I can’t thank you all enough. 

 

Jo’s Fundraising

What does 2019 hold then....I’m not normally one for posting about races but why not hey?

Lenham Cross Marathon is in Feb, apparently more than a marathon and along some of our favourite North Downs routes, lots of steps and great practice for what’s to come! 

My usual Ashford 10k in Feb too, just because and a new one for me Dartford Half with my friend Akua. 

Then come the biggies, after a few smallies - Kent Spring Half, because it’s a wonderful race (you can win a place in my raffle still!). Folkestone 10 is looking likely, again an old favourite which I missed last year due to drunken behaviour with Nat and Emma.

The London Marathon - obviously as I’m running for BCN! But it’s still very much a training run for me as is Bewl Ultra in May - 3 times around Bewl Water, which I hope i beat the cut off for. 

This should all set me up very nicely for my dream race, finally I’m running The Wall. 69 miles with 27 hours to do it. Whilst Keeley drives around in the car with an inflatable mattress....Carlisle to Newcastle along the rough route of Hadrian’s Wall. As a child I always said I’d walk the Great Wall of China and practice by doing Hadrian’s Wall, so this is a first step on that goal. 

But you see, that didn’t feel enough for me this year. So I was a little rash and signed up for Salisbury 54321 Ultra. After all I’ve now done all their other distances. But again this is still a training/recovery run. As in September I’ll be flying off to Fuerteventura with my sister (she deserves to celebrate too) to take part in the Half MDS. 120km over 4 days. Carrying all the kit you need. I’m sure it will be fine....

Oh but wait, no I’m not resting there. Royal Parks Half (again as part of Team Now) and then for me and the wife, well we’re going to walk Beachy Head Marathon. Her first go at that distance. My 3rd Beachy. Then of course I’ve got my newly rescheduled Druids Challenge 84 miles over 3 days. Then I think a lie down as it will be nearly Christmas again!!

 

I always knew this year would be my big year of running, I’m starting it overweight (heavier than I’ve been in 6 years and I’ve never been this heavy and running). I’m still a little on the fragile side mentally. But with so much to keep me busy this year and all this support around me I know I’m not broken. Just cracked a little and ready to take on these challenges, raise as much money as I can for Breast Cancer Now. And hopefully keep you all up to date with my adventures....that’s if you want me to! 

Jo’s Fundraising 

From acorns grow....

....a couch to 50 miles plan? 

Safe to say I’ve fallen out of running, I knew it was happening but it still felt a surprise just how much I haven’t felt like running. Those who know me will know how much I hate the term running mojo, especially as this has nothing to do with mojo. I haven’t lost my mojo. I’m not sure I even had any mojo to start. But I have stopped enjoying running, or feeling motivated to run. That said I haven’t let it worry me. I’ve had enough to worry about. 

It’s amazing how people who are apparently “inspirations” to others can fail to inspire themselves. Even doing the simplest of things like a parkrun has been beyond me. Unless I was safely protected by the blue and white of the Run Director vest. Running sucks has become my new mantra. I even bought my wife a medal hanger for Christmas with those words emblazoned across it. But running doesn’t suck does it? I wouldn’t have run 9 marathons, an ultra and hundreds of training runs if it sucks? I mean that would be a complete waste of all our times and you reading this blog....wouldn’t it?

So I let the running slip without worrying. In December I had my first ever DNS - which was sad as it was the anniversary of my first ever race, just 5 miles but I decided to help at Park Wood junior parkrun instead (after the advice of quite a few others!)

 

Then I had my second, when I knew there was just no way I could run 10 miles on New Years Eve....not least because I was on the second weekend of a triple whammy of RD at Maidstone parkrun and supporting my wife be ED at juniors! 

But I knew we had a new year just around the corner and more than that, I had already started making plans for this new year. My 10th marathon is to be a foreign affair - travelling to Cyprus for the Limassol marathon. My second ultra is to be in June, where I shall attempt to Race to the Tower without stopping - just 50 miles (see above reference to a couch to 50 mile plan!) and then an adventure to Scotland with my running buddy Jules, for the Loch Ness Marathon in September. These things will require me to run....so I gather! 

Which means I’ve had to run. I’ve had to start again. Your fitness isn’t lost completely but your VO2 max does drop after 2 weeks of not running. My last run was the Ashford 666 (a great race by the way as how many races do you have to climb a hill using a rope?) and it was tough, mainly as it fell amongst my extended period of not running. After I completed Beachy Head marathon I had only run 50km (including the 666) until the end of 2017. That used to be nearly my weekly amount!

I’m not stupid, I know I’m starting almost from scratch - which meant I’m being kind to myself, re evaluating my training plan. Starting with a 3k route which was the identical route to the first one I ever ran outside. That time it took me over 40 minutes to complete so I should be happy with the 26 minutes I managed on Thursday. Today I went further, I ran just over 5 miles. My lungs have been burning, my legs - actually not too bad. I’m run/walking and I know I’ll go out for another run, and another, and another. 

Yet it’s different, I don’t feel under pressure. I haven’t wanted to run alone or with people for months. But I did a few runs in that quiet period with the selfies and it wasn’t so bad. I’m pretty sure they’ll still be waiting for me when I get back! For this January I’m going to run alone. Then I’ll reach out for someone to run with. Or walk with. Or run/walk with. Or I won’t. I’ll take stock and see how I’m feeling, where I am. 

I’ve changed a lot in these past few months. Not just because I haven’t been running, but because I’ve been learning about what I need to live my life. To be freer, fuller - overthrowing the tyranny of the shoulds and being myself. It’s fun - you should try it! 

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.

Time to slow down....

I recently passed my 4 year runaversary. That's 4 years since I started running outside - a terrified 3k around Mote Park at 6.30am so no one would see me! Around 2 stone heavier than I am now but having lost 4 stone since I'd started dieting. What a running journey it's been. I've lost count of the half marathons I've run but I know I'm on 7 marathons and will reach 10 by the end of the year. No question I love to run! It keeps me sane. Keeps me thinner and has led me to people who are now some of my best friends and certainly my favourite people to run with!


Over the past 4 years I've also gathered some personal bests I'm quite proud of. You may not think I'm all that speedy but I've managed to hit some pretty good times. It's rare I've gone out to get a PB - but it has felt good when they've come - thing with trying to beat a time is you really have to start quick. You can't decide part way through (although once on a race Stefhan did manage this!!) as usually by then it's too late. Certainly my 5k parkrun PB I wanted. So too my half marathon - I was determined to come under 2 hours! And Brighton Marathon - well that was all about burying demons. Most of my PBs came when I was training for said marathon. Oh and nearly all are flat flat routes! So here they are - all my personal bests:

5k - 26:00 Maidstone parkrun
5 miles - 44:55 Kent Christmas Cracker
10k - 54:58 Abington
1/2 Marathon - 1:58:36 Headcorn
Marathon - 4:48:24 Brighton

Why am I sharing this now? Well it seems ages since I came close to a PB. All of those times are over a year old. Lately I just don't have it in me to bust a gut for a PB. But actually that's okay. I'm not exactly built for speed. Heck I'm not sure I'm built for running. They were fun to get but my focus and goal has changed. I've discovered that if i slow down I can keep going. For marathons my magic 7m/km keeps me comfortable with room to change if I need to. In London with Danny we ran at 8m/km due to injury and actually that was great too. At the end I felt I could have run on.

So I don't want to chase times any more. What I want is to chase distance. To see just what this body can do and have a new challenge. An ultra challenge. Why not - my favourite run of all time is still my birthday 28 miles last year. This means if I never beat those times again. It's okay. After all I haven't run under 30 minutes at parkrun since, well since I can't remember. Instead I'm going to continue to slow down, take it easy, carry on doing what I do best and see just how far it takes me....

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