A look back at the year and some thoughts for 2022

 It's been one heck of a year. It's been truly awful in fact. And it's ending with the tiny flicker of hope I had a month ago utterly crushed.

Illnesses in my immediate family would have been enough on their own to deal with. These are all on-going and there appears to be nothing I can do but be there to pick up the pieces. 

Recurring or chronic injury in itself would have been enough to deal with. I'm doing what I can to get my leg to heal and stay strong but it's a precarious line to walk and I keep getting it wrong.

We won't talk about the covid stuff, or work, or work+covid.

Being unceremoniously dumped by my soulmate -the man I though I was going to grow old with- was, and still is, devastating. Not long ago we met so that he could say what he needed in order to move on and get on with a successful life, but it's left me desolate. I still don't understand, and the conclusions I've come to are bitter indeed to swallow.

I have also been taken aback by a few random acts of kindness. Some of those have come from people who might read this and I cannot begin to express my gratitude to you. Some came from complete strangers, and I am sad that I cannot thank them. It's a lesson in how we should conduct ourselves- a few kind words can lift the darkness from someone's soul even if only for a few minutes. That brief respite can make it possible to get through the rest of the day. You never know who might need that respite, so just be kind always.

I did a race. It went pretty well considering how little running I'd done. I should have done another to mark my birthday but at that point I was exhausted, overwhelmed and once again really struggling with the leg problem. Youngest was poorly again too. Perhaps if I had gone then this year would be ending differently, but I paid the price for putting my immediate needs first and not just falling in someone else's wishes. 

The coming year feels bleak and there's nothing to look forward to, but I've set myself a couple of challenges to give me some focus and purpose.  The first challenge is to try to get back to consistent running so I've entered the Centurion One Slam for the first 100 days of the year. My aim is to cover 600 miles and I thought I'd use it as an opportunity to do some fundraising for the National Museum of Computing. You can donate via my Just Giving page here.

I want to use those 100 days for a couple of training blocks: getting back to basics with easy aerobic runs, keeping a careful eye on heart rate. Then I'll add some speedwork but this time not intervals as such, nor hill reps. I'm going to try adding strides to the end of 2 easy runs each week. I've revisited The Happy Runner by Megan and David Roche and now I think I can see how to put some of their wisdom into practise. My training needs to be kind and supportive to both body and mind otherwise it's not sustainable especially in my current fragile state. The Happy Runner isn't a book everyone will enjoy- it's not a training manual as such, more of a holistic way of approaching life as a runner. And although the messages in the book are serious, it's a book that doesn't take itself too seriously either. There's quite a bit about pizza and dogs.

The second challenge is very much dependent on whether I can complete or get close to completing challenge no.1. If I can't manage consistent mileage without breaking then it's very unlikely I'll be able to train for anything in the second half of the year.

With that second challenge in mind I'm hoping to get some coaching. I think I know more or less what I need to do and more or less how to structure training but I find it very difficult to get the balance right. Too much running and not enough functional strength work; too much strength and cross training and too little running; too much everything; or having to force my mind to let me even consider getting up and training. A bit of guidance with nutrition would also be helpful- I think I need to ensure my diet matches different parts of the training cycle. Over the last 10 years or so my relationship with food has become complicated and sometimes unhealthy so it will be important to focus on eating enough and enough of the right things.

I will close out the year with a run, some Cross Fit and an early night. Whatever you do, wherever you are, stay safe and may your new year be healthy and purposeful and full of kindness.

Running with

 It's been a really tough time. My youngest got the 'rona and although not particularly ill with it they've since been suffering with something like vertigo and ended up in hospital with it. Their recovery is going to be long and far from smooth, but today they are having a good day and I cannot begin to describe the relief that brings.

I've been trying to keep moving but, given all the stresses and worries, I've decided that a sensible goal is to aim for 30 minutes of exercise most days. Some days I can manage more, some days I don't do anything but I'm learning to live with all the worries and hurts, and to live with what I think is a more realistic set of goals. 

People often use running as a way of escaping things in their life, a kind of running away. I've done that in the past but actually it's not all that helpful. It can turn running into something that's negative, and if for some reason you can't run- perhaps because of injury or just being busy- you have no way of managing the things you want to forget or escape. And running away can cause injury in itself- it's so easy to do too much when you need to run for anaesthesia.

The other week I was out on a run and a thought suddenly came into my head: run with all the hurt and sorrow; hold it, accept it for what it is and why it's there. I can't outrun it, and trying to live permanently anaesthetised isn't going work either. It will be with me for as long as this particular part of my life lasts and that's something I can't control. I can't make my heart heal quicker, I can't make my child whole again. And just as I've sat with my child and held them and all their pain, so each run is a time of holding and being with my own hurt. 

I hope that learning acceptance and enduring much of what this year has brought will make me a better runner. But I also hope that I don't have to live through another year like this. 

knitted for one of my children's teachers

Putting what I've learned into practice

 It's been one heck of a week, culminating in youngest getting covid. They've been so careful but when everyone around you isn't being careful your own choices don't count for much. Anyway, this means it's most certainly time to bring Robbie Britton's article into play. The worry that comes of having a child with the 'rona is most certainly as exhausting and draining as doing something like a hard 50k so I won't be training much at all for the next couple of weeks. 

However, I did go out for a run today as although very cold, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and I thought getting out in the fresh air would be a good thing to do. I only managed about 7 miles as anxiety made my breathing and heart rate go all over the place and I kept stopping to try to calm myself. There's no point in fretting about having a rubbish run- it doesn't matter. I'm doing some exercise (maybe 30 minutes) 4 or 5 days a week and that's enough for now. Something else was making me a bit unsettled and nervous too, but perhaps it's not quite time yet to see if it can be turned around. 

Earlier in the week I went for my first breast-screening. I didn't really know what to expect and it wasn't a fun experience. Actually it was quite unpleasant but that wasn't because of the radiographer, more to do with the fact that being short and having no boobs to speak of, being asked to lean and drape the bits that needed screening didn't really do much. I ended up having one side of my face squashed up against the pillar of the scanner whilst the various bits of the machine had to go to maximum in order to squish my boobs into the right position for taking the pictures. But I'll go again when it's time for the next appointment. Why wouldn't you? It's unpleasant for a little bit but could save my life and I don't have to pay for the privilege. We're so fortunate to have access to screening programmes like this.

Turning 50 has been like running full-speed into a wall and I just need to get by, do enough and try to stay healthy in body and mind. But despite the general hideousness of this week I have seen a small glimmer...

I want to believe I'll end this year in a better place.

One More Light

 This light has been flickering, blinking erratically. It's time to conserve energy.

Recently I read a most timely article from irunfar. I do like that website because it tends to have pieces by writers who have something insightful to say, something that is often thought-provoking and causes me to reflect. I'm not interested in reading about shinyness or gushing write-ups about how a runner is winning everything all the time- I can't relate to those things and there's nothing in that kind of article that inspires me. 

What I read was all about balance. 

Finding balance is something I have always been very bad at- I tend towards an all-or-nothing, throw-everything-I-have-and-am-at-it kind of person. When I'm enthused about something it becomes all-absorbing, all-consuming. That level of obsessiveness is both a blessing and a curse. It's the thing that has kept me going through the years as a single mum and, before then (in a previous life), helped me with creative endeavours but it is also the thing that has lead me to where I am now- burn-out.

"The question to ask isn’t how many miles a week you need to run to complete a 50 or 100 miler, but how many miles (or time) can I sustainably do without getting that balance wrong. This might vary week to week or month to month, and needs to take into account all other kinds of life stressors too. A tough day at work can hit you like a 10-mile threshold run, so chucking another on top in the evening needs to be considered as such."

I've got the balance all wrong. Physical exercise, whether it's running or the CrossFit I've learned to love, is good for both the mind and body. But it's also a stressor. Even if, as I've begun to do, you take a day off in between training sessions or vary what training is done each day, if every day is full of stresses from life and work then actually your body and mind can't recover from and adapt to that training. It's just one load of stress dumped on top of another, day after day after day. I've tried telling myself that it's just perimenopausal malaise and that getting up and out will make it better but that feeling of malaise has become harder and harder to fight. Robbie Britton writes in the article that

"What is possible for one day, one week, or one month can still be too much if you struggle to consistently stay motivated and un-injured. If you find yourself struggling for time to run, it might just be your mind trying to hold you back from doing too much. Levels of enjoyment can be a key indicator of overdoing it (as can more objective data like heart rate variability and sleep quality) but if your training is making you unhappy, then maybe you’re not too busy, but instead overtraining".

It's quite challenging to consider that overtraining could happen when you're barely running 20 miles a week but I think it's a deeply insightful comment. If life stresses have as much impact as a hard or long training session then the amount of time spent training is irrelevant. Sometimes even just a little bit is too much.

Right now work is tough, all the Covid stuff is extremely stressful and I'm in a permanent state of anxiety about trying to stay healthy whilst having to work in very close proximity to children. I'm worried that my own children, one of whom is vaccinated the other who isn't because of needle phobia, will get sick and do badly in exams next summer (we will have GCSEs and A-levels going on so this year is a big one for them both). And I'm constantly torn between all the responsibilities and duties I have as a parent to two teens and as a daughter with a terminally ill parent who lives 250 miles away. I should be in Wales now at a race but I pulled out because I'm too used up and ill-prepared; and I feel guilty because if not in Wales then I should have made the 6 hour drive to my parents. But I'm at home, exhausted. Too frayed even to follow a knitting pattern, read a book or concentrate on a movie.

Last weekend I went back to get some treatment on my dodgy right leg. Compartment syndrome is back but it's not as bad as before, at least not in terms of pain. Training very little doesn't seem to reduce the symptoms and neither has the work I've done on running form. The massage definitely helped but already the benefits of that have worn off. Not sure what the answer is, but for now I think it's time to take some months off. A few weeks back I entered the Centurion One Community event that runs January to April next year, but even though the money's paid I don't have to do it. Certainly I won't be booking any more races for the foreseeable. 

So there is something to do. As someone commented on my Crunch Time post, it's time to take time out. It won't be so hard to regain running fitness if I do want to run again, but if I don't walk away for a bit I'll never heal.

Other hurts also need healing. Those, well I'm not so sure what to do. I don't know if I have enough left of me to take the energy needed to set that process in motion. The hurt itself saps my energy and has dimmed my light, weighing down my soul. All I know is that I can't go on like this.

Hopefully I can find a way to fuel that light so it can shine steadily once more.

with thanks to Robbie Britton, @cavershamjimruns, Linkin Park, and everyone who has sent love and best wishes my way over the last few days

Crunch Time?

 I think it's crunch time- but I don't mean time to do lots of abs exercises. It looks like it's time to make some changes. I know this is something I have written about before and in the past sometimes just deciding that a change is needed has been enough to nudge things in a different direction.

At present, things aren't working well for me. I am broken. Niggles never really go away, my body no longer really heals, I'm never quite entirely well but permanently fighting off lurgies. Now the niggles are another injury, one that just shouldn't be because of how little I'm running.

I know there's a bunch of stuff I can't change and the result of all these stresses is a chronic, cortisol-fuelled response which is affecting how my immune system functions, contributing to poor adaptation to training and causing an increased injury risk. The fact that nothing seems to go right, that life only settles for a week or two before something else comes along to destroy any semblance of balance is part of all this too. It's also the endless struggle of the last eleven years, the unrelenting difficulties of being a single parent on a low income, the only being worthwhile because of what I can give. The mind-numbing, soul-destroying, daily grind of it all.

Next weekend I should be in Wales. It should have been a joyful occasion with the fella. When he dumped me I kept the date because I was determined that he shouldn't spoil it for me, even though going there risked seeing him with someone else or hearing cruel words. I wanted to go for me, to run somewhere new for me, achieve something for me. But I'm broken. Broken enough to know that even just the drive will aggravate this injury further, never mind running 35 miles with rather more ascent and descent that I've done all year. My spirit is broken too. I keep going because that's what everyone needs me to do not because it's what I desire to do. Quite frankly I've had enough. 

So both body and mind have reached a limit. I recall someone saying that when you reach your limit you don't break, just bend. Well I've reached my limits so many times that I'm completely bent out of shape. Stresses beyond a material's elastic limit cause it to become deformed, and I no longer resemble who I was at the start of this year.

I don't know what needs to change; I don't know what I can change. I don't think I will race again though. Life has become so precarious that I can't ever be sure of being well enough or injury-free long enough to commit to a race, nor even have the time to train. In fact it's been a long while since any kind of training schedule was impossible.

But that small voice inside is still raging. The person lost deep inside me is so desperate to get out, to be able to run, free from pain and worry. I wish I knew how to make that happen.

Halloweenies

Not so much running and Crossfit happening at the moment. Energy levels and general health have taken a bit of a dive, and I've been experiencing some kind of anxiety attacks as well. I have sought medical advice but there's not a lot anyone can do really. Sometimes I wish I wasn't so strong- somehow I keep going when what I think my mind and body need are proper rest and respite. But proper rest and respite aren't available to me so I'll have to keep going until I break.

Recently there was a cute free pattern on the Lovecrafts website for little figures called Halloweenies (the pattern is by Cilla Webb- find her on Instagram @cillaspurls). I've been making quite a few of these as they're great for using up DK yarn and don't take long to make. 

These are the first three I made. Since then I've adapted the pattern slightly and made little horns for them too:

They don't require any special techniques; the body splits when you get to knitting the legs and although the pattern says to keep the spare stitches on the needle I prefer to transfer them to a stitch holder while I knit the first leg. The arms and horns are knit separately and sewn on.

I think it could be fun to adapt these to make something Christmassy but I'm not thinking that far ahead yet, although I do have sparkly DK yarn left over from last year's Hugglings which would be perfect. 

For now, back to some knitting but hopefully I'll have some running-related things to write about fairly soon.

Not the A100 Race Report

A week ago I spent a somewhat surreal weekend around the fringes of Centurion Running's Autumn 100.

It came about because I had offered to pace someone on leg 4 of the race as their pacer had gone down with Covid-19. The someone was a person I'd never met but had seen a few of their tweets as I follow a few runners who follow them, and I thought it would be a lovely thing to do to support someone in their 100 mile endeavour. It also occurred to me that running leg 4 might help to offset the unhappiness from the last time I was a part of that race, the story of which you can read here. 

So Saturday was spent dot-watching. Not just Nick's dot but also several other dots too, willing people on to run well. Nick was doing brilliantly and by late evening I thought rather than try to get some sleep at home I should drive to Goring and set up camp in my car in the station carpark. It looked like he'd finish leg 3 well ahead of schedule and I was terrified I'd fall asleep at home and not be at Goring when I needed to be. Crewing or pacing is such a responsibility and, as well as anticipating disasters, you have to anticipate things going far better than planned and be there in good time. I was also very anxious about parking- the station carpark isn't big and with so many people running I worried about being able to park. So fuelled by the fear of messing up on pacing duty I got to Goring about 10.30pm. The back of the car was set up with blankets, duvet and pillows so, after buying some snacks, I curled up under the duvet and alternated between dot-watching and occasionally dozing. 

Nick was going beautifully on leg 3 as was Mike, with whom I ran much of legs 2 and 3 of A100 back in 2018. I was so delighted for them both, especially Mike as he was aiming for a fast race. But there's something about that stretch of the Ridgeway at night, something that just seems to sap all a runner's energy, cause mystery injuries to appear, and make the wheels fall off...

Both those dots suddenly seemed to be making no progress- every time I checked the live tracking they seemed to have scarcely moved. Then Mike's dot disappeared, his name had gone from the list of runners too which seemed so strange as he'd been smashing it. Nick's dot crept along but barely. Then a couple of messages came through on twitter. Nick was at a CP but feeling awful; Mike was at HQ and had called it a day due to a hip flexor issue (same as I had in 2019) and the fact that his feet were destroyed. (I've seen a photo since and it's not pleasant.)

At about 3.30am I headed over to HQ to see Mike while he was waiting for a lift home and also to give him a gift I'd made:

Yes, a knitted hammerhead shark.
       

He was pretty philosophical about his race but it must have been a huge disappointment to have trained so hard only for it all to have suddenly gone so wrong. @teef2 was there too, his race had also gone wrong but he too was quite philosophical about it all. 

Once he'd gone I watched people coming in either having finished the race or at the end of leg 3. I'd forgotten what 100 mile races look like and what they can do to people. Being a spectator to it all wasn't comfortable- people reduced to pale shadows of themselves, unseeing and barely able to speak. Had a lovely chat with someone I follow on twitter but had never met before. He'd called it a day after leg 3 too and again seemed pretty ok with that all things considered. And all the while I watched that dot and the minutes inexorably pass. 

The dot hardly moved but the time slipped by all too quickly. I was watching the time as much as the dot now, talking to the dot on my phone, coaxing and encouraging it to keep going. 4.30am came and went, 5am, 5.15, 5.20... I knew it was going to be very tight, but I'd decided my runner wasn't going to get a choice- I was going to get him out on leg 4 before the cut-off. It was then that I realised I had no idea whether this was his first 100 miler, whether this race was particularly important to him, or what his goals were for the race. No matter: I intended to get him onto leg and and keep him going until we were told to stop. That way at least he would have given it his all and not chosen to quit.

Well, Nick was well known to the Centurion team so when he staggered in at about 5.30am he was well looked after. I said hello, introduced himself and announced that we'd be heading out onto the last leg so he would have up to to 15 minutes to get sorted. Poor guy, there was me being all bright and breezy and he was almost asleep on his feet! We headed out onto the Thames Path with about 10 minutes to spare. 

Almost immediately it became apparent that we wouldn't make it. Nick was struggling to walk and needed to stop several times but each time he stopped he would begin to fall asleep. I'm not great at small talk but all the way to the CP at Pangbourne I just talked. About owls, moths, running at night, jays, mist, my children, work. Anything that came into my head really just to try to keep him awake. It didn't really work. What he needed most was daylight but we couldn't wait for that because he'd miss the cut-off. The sky was beginning to lighten but not quick enough- perhaps if it had been a bright sunny day there would have been more light a little sooner. We plodded into Pangbourne about 10 minutes or so after the cutoff, the sky a leaden grey. 

A flight of stairs (leg 4 is the leg of stairs!) up to the room where there were chairs, hot drinks and food, and the lovely Ally. Within a few minutes Nick was considerably more alive but it was too late to continue. I stayed there a little while with him, watching him devour a huge quantity of cheese and pleased to see some colour return to his face. I decided I would run the whole leg to make up for the people I knew who hadn't been able to finish but assuring the CP volunteers that I would not offer any assistance to runners I might happen to meet. Before I set off I took the knitted yellow shrimp off my race vest and gave it to Nick as a sort of consolation prize. No buckle, but no-one else will have earned a shrimp!

On the way to the turnaround I caught up with the sweeper and ran along with him. We then caught up with a runner and her pacer in Reading. She was walking and content in the knowledge that they were not going to make it in time. I ambled along with them up to the checkpoint but decided I would turn around as soon as we got there and head straight back- the morning was passing and I hadn't planned on being out for so long. 

Of course it had to start raining quite heavily as I went back through Reading! Luckily nothing as biblical as in 2018 and it did stop somewhere before Pangbourne. It was a strange feeling running back along the TP and I got a bit nervous and jittery as though I was actually finishing the race. It got quite embarrassing hearing passers-by cheering me on and I kept saying "No, I'm just out for a run, not in the race." Anyway, after stopping in Whitchurch for a lovely chat with a couple out walking I eventually arrived back in Goring about 6 hours after setting out, just in time to cheer in the last two runners to finish.

I was shattered, legs sore and so grateful that I could spend some real life time with my tiny phone friends.  Thank you to @NickThompson3, @runningmiker, @teef2, @photogirlruns and the other people I met but can't remember their names.

A Day Out on the North Downs

 

Yesterday I talked myself back into doing a race. It was one I'd been talked into by a friend who decided I needed cheering up and the best thing was to join them running the Maverick Frontier North Downs 54km. A few weeks ago though I decided I'd pull out as I'm exhausted from the weekly commute to Devon and have found the start of the new term very stressful; running my first race in over a year really felt that it would be one thing too many. Then my friend fell over and got injured so there seemed little point in driving down to Surrey for a race I wasn't fit for.

However on Thursday night I packed my kit and Saturday morning I got up early to make the journey. As you'll know from this blog, I always get heeby-jeebies before a race no matter whether I'm in good shape, well-prepared or not, and this was no exception. Waiting for the race to start I met a pair of lovely dogs and their grown-up and that helped settle my nerves a little. - The Maverick races often allow cani-cross runners and there were quite a few people running the shorter distances with their dogs -

I was uncomfortable with the mass start. It wasn't a huge field but I didn't much like being so close around other people. The first little while of the race was like that too as all the routes shared the same first few miles and the trails were quite narrow in places. In fact I don't think I spent all that much time running completely out of sight of people which is unusual- generally once the field spreads out after the start I end up on my own for the whole time! 

It took me a long time to settle into running. It was already feeling warm by the time we started, a little after 9am, and I had a lot of difficulty regulating my body temperature and heart rate. Some of that I put down to nerves but probably mostly it's down to the loopy hormones. I started HRT during the summer, and although it's helped with some symptoms, it isn't a cure-all and I think this is something I am going to need to develop strategies to deal with if I decide to keep racing. I just tried to keep to an even level of effort and told myself to walk if that was what I needed to keep myself safe.

Eating wasn't great during the race. I ate a few things from my pack but mostly had pineapple and water melon from the aid stations. I did drink a lot but only had two tiny wees during the race and not much better once home and drinking chamomile tea. Reflecting on that now I suspect I was dehydrated in the days before the race and that would have had a significant impact on both temperature regulation and heart rate.

Despite the difficulty settling into things I did mostly run and smile. It felt good to be out and it was also good to have to do nothing but move forward and take care of myself. The terrain was quite runnable on the whole with a few sharp climbs. The worst of the descents were all in the last third- not what you want when you're tired, not concentrating so well, and when your legs are sore! It seemed that I was the only person out there with sticks and I was very grateful for them- as much for when I got tired and fed up and bored as for the hills. Using them kept me walking purposefully when I couldn't face running.

One of my best memories from yesterday was running through a field of maize. It was really tall- much taller than me (but then I am vertically-challenged!) and lots of wild carrot was growing around the base of the maize. There was a group of teenagers headed towards me, shambling along in a tired and chaotic manner with rucksacks and singing 'He's Got the Whole World In His Hands'. I joined in because it's a joyful song and you can't beat a bit of a sing-along mid-ultra. They smiled and sang a bit louder and I wished them luck on their trek. I have a feeling that group have never had the opportunity to get out on the trails before- I hope they had a great day out. I think the hill in the photo above was just after this.

I did get a bit miserable in the last third or so. I'd forgotten how hard running ultras is and my right hip flexor (the one that went wrong at A100 in 2019) had really started to bother me. But earlier on I'd chatted with couple of guys who were running their first ultra and I remembered the advice I'd given them and thought I should really follow it too! Just the usual stuff- things will hurt but ignore it because they'll stop hurting and something else will hurt instead; don't quit just because you're tired and feel miserable; you'll get a 2nd and 3rd wind... And I reminded myself that I'd run enough so that I could literally walk it out and still finished inside the cut-off. In fact I managed a reasonable amount of running in the last 15km and I'm proud that I didn't let the couple of horrid descents near the end get to me. Previously I've let things like that get to me and I've wasted precious minutes standing being cross and miserable and sweary rather than accepting it and cracking on.

Anyway, top 10 finish and all but one of the women ahead of me are considerably younger so I've still got a bit of something in my legs!

I do have a couple of races booked before the end of the year. Not sure if I will run them- apart from anything else I'm doing a 500 mile round trip most weekends to look after a family member who's terminally ill and this could mean running will have to take a back seat. But at least I know I can still run, and I can still be focussed and stubborn and determined.

Hopefully there will be more miles and smiles before the year is out.

A kind of message in a bottle

 I think this is now the only place I can say something that you might see:

The next week will be far harder than you know. But it is finite, you have complete control over when your suffering will end. Just remember: that's a privilege. Don't waste everything that was sacrificed for that privilege.

Message ends.

A small voice

It's common to spend time at this age reflecting on the past and contemplating what's left of the future. Perhaps you're looking back at achievements, planning a few more steps along a career path, paying off a mortgage and topping up the pension. Perhaps you're thinking about what you and your significant other will do once you can retire- projects to make the house nicer, adventures to go on, ways of celebrating those big anniversaries.

I don't get to do any of those things as I have no career and a pension that is hardly worth anything. My job pays so little that retirement isn't an option- I need to die in the next 15-20 years really. I have no house and there will be no adventures or holidays or anniversaries together to celebrate. Looking back I see that where I am now is because I've spent almost all my life trying to do right by everyone else, putting other people first because what they were doing or what they needed was more important than me.

Women in particular can find themselves caught between the responsibilities for their children and those for parents who are now ageing, frail, ill or dying. That's where I am now- having to put what others need first. I don't begrudge supporting my children- they need what they need in order to be able to leave home and follow their own paths, and as a parent it's your job to ensure they can do that. How can I not support my dad whilst my mum is slowly dying? No one should have to go through that alone so it's a weekly 500 mile round trip on top of everything else.

I am trying to accept that there will be no time for me- that the choices I made in the past have led me to here. But somewhere inside there's a small voice raging at the waste of me- the potential that was never fulfilled, the love that was rejected. Running a long way doesn't prove anything but it's all I can do to let a bit of that voice free, except that I'm not even sure I can do that now. The time I do have to train I'm just so tired, so demoralised, that it becomes another battle to fight.

The last couple of months have seen me visibly age: there's a bunch of new wrinkles and deeper worry lines than there were at the start of summer, and there are many more white hairs. But despite looking so old, the small voice is still young and still raging to live.

Quantum entanglement

Do atoms or molecules fall in love? They can behave as if they do. In certain situations, atoms that were together can still affect each other when they are far apart with no apparent means of communication. They have become inextricably linked. It's called quantum entanglement.

If you listen very, very carefully, shut out all the external noise, in the deepest dark and despair you will hear my heart beating. You'll feel it too. Sometimes it flutters, but you don't need to worry about that. If you listen very, very carefully, behind all the other sounds you will hear my feet stepping beside yours. They aren't sure-footed but are still there, running and walking alongside you every mile.

It might be comforting, it might be the opposite. You don't have to like it. You can always not listen and drown out the noise with everything on the surface, although that will become ever more difficult as you tire. Nevertheless, the heartbeat and footsteps will be there and neither you nor I get to choose. 

Disclaimer: I am not a quantum physicist and do not claim to have any particular knowledge of this subject other than what I have learned from reading about it. 

Shades of grief

 I'm grieving for the loss of someone who isn't dead. It's not a good place to be. Waves of sadness, pain and anger wash over me, sometimes at quite random moments. The unexpectedness unbalances me, sweeps my feet from under me, and I'm submerged- unable to see or breathe.

I'm grieving for the loss of the future, a shared vision, adventures. Your footsteps, smile and steely blue-grey eyes haunt me every time I lace up my shoes and run. Memories cling to me like the mud on my shoes weighing me down, making every step so much harder. Memories that are now punctuated with doubt and second guesses- events that should be blissfully remembered are tarnished because the truth of them is no longer sure.

I'm grieving because I thought I'd found my place to be- somewhere safe, warm, where there was love and respect. Instead I'm cut adrift and far from the sight of land. I'm surrounded by empty, grey, ceaseless motion when all I want is to stop moving and rest. 

I'm grieving because there was no chance to say goodbye, to come to terms. One moment the sun shone and I was in your arms, the next you had cut me off and were gone. It is as though you are dead. Whilst you enjoy your new lease of life I'm still falling further and further from the light. 

"In the end it didn't even matter"

Shouting into the void

 You're out there somewhere but I doubt you will see this.

I miss you with every fibre of my being.

A cry that comes from the heart.

A cry lost in the void.

I miss you.

RIP Doyle

 There are no words.

I went to see the hens this morning. Willow and Princess were sounding mournful, but they often do when they want attention.

Doyle wasn't there though, which was odd. I looked up and saw her lying at the back of the coop. It looks as though she had died quite peacefully in her sleep.

We loved you so much, Doyle. Your short life brought great joy to us and we are so grateful for the time we had with you.

Some thoughts on love, life and failure

 

Still plodding

I don't know how I learned it, but somehow I learned to love people for who they are. Not for who I want them to be, nor for what they give me. I learned to love someone with, not in spite of, all the things that makes them inexplicable, frustrating, difficult, weird, annoying. 

 In childhood I was only good enough, loveable enough, if I achieved things. The more or the higher I achieved, the more worthwhile I was. If I did something wrong that made me a bad person and bad people aren't loved.

But I didn't start running to achieve things and it's not why I started running ultras either. Neither is it why I decided to run 100 miles. I ran out of curiosity- could I do it? what would it be like? how would it feel? what would I see? OK, there was some desire to get fit and then stay fit as I do fear the thought of getting old and frail, unable to reach things off high shelves, struggle to get out of a chair and be unable to look after myself. But I have never done a race because I wanted people to notice and be amazed. 

Not doing any races, not even running 20 miles a week is a strange place to be in. I don't think running has ever defined me, but it is so easy to feel inadequate and a failure if I compare myself to others. No run-every-day-streaks, no huge high-profile races to boost my ego. No runs in amazing, scenic places. In some people's eyes I'm a failure: no money, no security, no house, no prospects, no ambition, no desire to be extraordinary. I'm unloveable. 

But 12 years ago I got divorced and had nothing; 5 years ago I broke my back and struggled to dress myself each morning; right now I have a family full of illnesses and difficulties and we face the prospect of eviction with nowhere to go. I have no hopes and nothing to look forward to, but somehow I get up each morning and plod.

The daily grind of my life is very ordinary indeed, but the fact that I'm still here at all is perhaps the most extraordinary thing.

Running Solo

 It happened again. 

I woke one morning and the sky wasn't there any more. Just a crushing absence, a huge weight of emptiness. 

For some time this year I've been plagued with a recurring dream, more of a nightmare really. I was at the finish of Dragon's Back, looking for my fella. I couldn't find him. When I did see him, he was with someone else.

I've been in a strange place with running for a while. Partly down to injury and partly down to the sheer stress and busy-ness of life both at work and at home. The desire to run long or race is still absent, perhaps because of the loss of confidence from injury. Physically I'm still not properly recovered- my right leg and foot don't seem to be working properly- but there's no pain and my mobility has improved. Mentally there's a huge fear when I consider the prospect of racing and also an overwhelming exhaustion- I'm not ready to face long drives, very early starts, driving home straight after running a long way. And I don't feel like seeking out more suffering when there's so much of it each day anyway.

This year was full of plans. Now there are none, no dreams, no celebrations. It's a very dark place to be. I'll survive and keep going because I have to, but a life with nothing but that isn't much of a life. I'm looking forward to the end of this race.

Summer Review

 

Well. Where to start?

It's been a rough year so far. For a number of reasons work has been very stressful. At the start of this year I became a union rep for my workplace. It's been a steep learning curve and I've made mistakes, but I've also been able to make things a bit better for some people. In my non-work life things have also been really tough, and still are. A lot of people need me, expect my support, everything I do has to fit around other people and I just can't give what everyone wants. Never mind what I might need and want. My time is not my own.

Back at the start of May I acquired a nasty injury- what I thought were tight and tired lower legs turned into chronic exertional compartment syndrome. It got so painful that I thought I had a stress fracture. For about a week my leg was swollen enough to make even walking agony. I started a return to running rehab programme once the swelling and pain had subsided and am still plugging away at that. For once being so busy with work and my children has been an advantage as I've only had time to do the short 3 time a week 'runs' in the rehab schedule. Today I went up to a 30 minute run so it does feel like I'm almost back to proper running again.

The injury has been an interesting experience. I haven't missed running at all and I've not had any of the frustration that runners usually express when they see everyone else banging out miles and races. I just don't care much about running at the moment. In my own limited way I do CrossFit  most days- I follow the  WOD and add in some cardio and general mobility. It's nice not to have to devise my own workouts and it's good feeling I don't have to grind out miles and miles each week. Getting up early at the weekends to get in long runs was feeling like a chore and burden especially as I'm up around 5am in the working week already. Fitness-wise obviously I'm not running fit, but I think my general fitness and functional strength is much improved. Running is all well and good but in itself it's not a great way to keep your body in good shape as you approach the wrong side of 50.

A bit of knitting has happened, mostly for gifts. There are so many things I want to make but when I get the time I'm too tired to be able to concentrate on following a pattern. It's so frustrating thinking I've made some progress with a project only to have to unravel it all because it went wrong and I couldn't figure out where or why! Just as well I don't make garments really or I don't think I'd ever finish anything. Next projects in the pipeline are some geeky knits but you'll have to wait for those.