Things will never be the same again...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Over the Line

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here Comes Jeff....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Running for Breast Cancer Now

Each step as it comes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My fundraising page

Could this be the end...?

I started the year with optimism and hope, now it’s nearly spring and I can’t say there’s a spring in my step....

2019 is so far the year of the DNS - all the races I’ve entered so far I’ve deferred or not been able to run. No Pilgrims, no Lenham Marathon, not even an Ashford 10k and now no Dartford Half. I’m still entered in to Folkestone 10 and obviously the biggies. But I’m not entering any more races and next year I’m not entering any at all. 

Fact is I’m not running. Barely a step. My year to date is 54 miles. That should almost be my weekly by now. But I’m holding on that i can still do this. All the races I’m in allow for walkers and with a run/walk pace I think I can get round within the cut offs. Plus I hope that I’ll find it in me somewhere to start again, get fit. Stop eating and piling on the pounds. 

But it’s hard. Life is really really hard. I’m at the lowest ebb I’ve been for many many years. But not ever, so there is some light. And I’m stuck in the broken mental health system of this country. Bounced from place to place and apparently relying on tablets to fix it all, when actually they can’t. 

I’ve found some solace in joining the local Mind running group - they were doing couch to 5k, which felt a suitable place to start. Until the last session when they sent me off with some very skinny looking runners as they thought I was above the walk/run. Of course this wasn’t what I needed or wanted and I had to swallow the anxiety at running with folk who clearly can run faster than my 38 min 5k! But I made it through alive and perhaps learnt something along the way too. 

I’ve got London in 8 weeks. I trained for Loch Ness in 4 but was a stone lighter. A good deal brighter and wasn’t feeling the intense pressure that London, with the funds I’ve raised and long gone dream of doing a London sub-5 (my best there is 5:04:03 so at least aesthetically pleasing). I know I can make the start line. I know I can make the finish line. At least I think I do...see there it is. Who knows?

At the moment all I’m doing is locking myself away, hiding from the world, social media. Anything I put out there is probably a false front to make it all seem okay. But i wonder if as I fall out of love with life, I’ve truly fallen out of love with running. It used to be my solace, my place of enjoyment. Being outside, with friends, laughing, taking selfies, sharing selfies, stories, medals, races, meeting people. Keeping me in those 36 jeans....none of it seems to matter any more or push me out the door. Yes, I know, it’s just the dreaded “D” word making me feel like this. It will all be okay, I’ll find my “that hideous expression I refuse to use” again...perhaps. I’d say I hope so, but I’m not sure I do. Running has become part of my problem, not a solution to it. 

So, I’ll do my races. The ones I’ve dreamt of. I’ll give them all I can. Which may not be all I’ve got. And then I may just stop. At least for a year. Perhaps take up walking. No more medals. No more races. No more selfies. But first I just want to keep taking one day at a time. And to let all of you know, we aren’t all perfect. We don’t have perfect lives. We have flaws and cracks and fears. I’m sorry this isn’t a motivational, whoop whoop blog post. But it is me and at the moment, that’s all I’ve got. 

Thank you to Sow Ay for the amazing illustrations - as always, see more at http://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 

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.