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! 

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?

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! 

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 

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. 

A trip to the sunny side

This weekend was going to be my 10th marathon, a lovely trip to Limassol - they keep telling me it’s fast and flat, oh and sunny! Which is great. Except it won’t be my 10th marathon. It will still be flat and I hope it will still be sunny, but for the second time in a year I’ve dropped down to half marathon distance. I suppose it’s better than it becoming my 3rd DNS or even my first ever DNF. But I still feel disappointed. Mostly in myself. 

 

Everyone says ‘it’s the right thing to do’ or ‘well done for recognising it’ - but actually if I could have motivated myself to just do a few more training runs then I wouldn’t have found myself here. It was all starting to look good. January and February I was running, Ashford 10k became the first run I did without any walking and then, well then I don’t know what happened. I just stopped again. Technically I was still doing my long runs and if I’d completed my 20 miler in Thanet then I suspect I’d be flying off to Cyprus to run a marathon. But the race was cancelled due to snow, so I lost the enforced test of race conditions and 20 miles. Either way it would have told me if I was marathon ready. But now I’ve just sort of opted out, without really knowing if it was the right thing to do. 

Listen to my head is how I’ve put it. Well that’s actually quite a dangerous thing as frankly lately my head tells me a whole load of crap. Recognising what is actually worth listening to is a skill I’m not exactly mastering. We don’t like to disappoint ourselves and I don’t like to disappoint others. I know, I know - I’m not disappointing anyone, but hell I’ve been going on and on about this bloody race so it feels like somehow I am. Like the judges of social media will bang their invisible gavel and declare me guilty of over reacting, under performing and generally being an arse.....

See I told you I shouldn’t listen to my head! 

The good news is I have lots of races still to come, I’m determined to actually run Salisbury Marathon this year (the first race I dropped out of last year) and Loch Ness in September, oh and the little matter of 52 miles worth of Race to the Tower in June. If I keep telling myself all of that means it’s okay to just kick back, fly to Cyprus, drink cocktails and still run 13.2 miles (without any more than run one per week in months) and actually not only is that okay, it’s amazing. If I keep telling myself that....

I don’t want to find myself quoting Ronan Keating, as then I’ll know I’ve seriously hit rock bottom - yet life IS a rollercoaster. I no longer want to get off, but at times I feel quite a bit sick and I’ve never been a fan of rollercoasters. Turning upside down sucks. I like to stay steady and know where I’m going. I like it’s a small world - annoying song and all. There would have been quite a thrill trying to see if I could run the marathon on Sunday, instead I’m in going to float round the course in my little boat waving at small people. 

Then maybe once all this is over and I come back and start actually training I can go back to writing blogs which make sense....I’ll take bets on that if you like 😉 

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.