hello

It’s going to be Christmas soon, hooray. In celebration I bought a lovely new mug today, and some cinnamon spice scented candles. But that’s not news of running, is it? The good news is the cough is nearly gone, I walked the dog the other day and my legs didn’t wobble once, and thanks to the lovely people at our local health food shop I’m feeling almost completely better. I do rattle when I walk slightly, due to the fact that I’m currently taking vitamins, supplements, probiotics, Manuka honey and Floradix, all washed down with Berocca. The children are really impressed that I can swallow nine tablets in one go. So anyway, I’ve rested, I’ve looked after myself, I’ve thought zen thoughts, and now I’m ready to go. Off to train with Zoe this weekend, so look out Berkshire countryside, Glenn’s girls are on the rampage.

my dad

This one isn’t about running. It’s about why we’re running. Three years ago today, Zoe and I lived through the hardest day of our life; our father’s funeral. He was only 55 years old, and looked ten years younger. He was dynamic, funny, stubborn, loyal, kind and thoughtful. He lived in a tiny village in Lincolnshire which he happily referred to as ‘the arsehole of nowhere’, having escaped London ten years before. The last thing he did was typical of him: he’d just taken on some new employees and he took them out for a meal, because he was worried they’d be lonely and bored, having just moved to the area. That night he went home, felt ill, and died of a heart attack before the ambulance arrived.

It was impossible for anyone to believe – my dad was tall, strong, fit enough to beat the younger men at work in their occasional after-work sprint, played the odd game of football, ate a reasonably healthy diet, very rarely drank alcohol and had never smoked in his life. Everyone agreed that yes, he was a couple of stone overweight, but ‘he carried it well’, so it didn’t matter. Only of course, it does matter. His diet wasn’t really perfect (too many stops at service stations for a Ginsters pasty and a Mars bar in lieu of lunch on the way to see his beloved Falkirk FC) and in reality he was probably four stone overweight, but at 6’3″ nobody really noticed.

Heart Research work in the community to encourage lifestyle choices for a healthier heart. In other words, they get out there and tell people what they should and shouldn’t be doing. They help perfectionists like me, who would rather do nothing than not give it 100%, to realise that every positive step helps. Because I’m overweight, because I’m in a high risk category, because of my family history, because my cholesterol levels were raised at my last blood test – their amazing work makes me realise that even my pathetic attempts at training for the marathon are helping to make my heart strong. And when the time comes and I start begging you all for sponsorship (don’t worry, I’m not hinting…yet!) remember it’s not for me, it’s for the amazing work that they do and for the lives they save.

crossing a line

I ran this morning.

I ran for 10 minutes and 20 seconds.

I ran without stopping. I ran when my legs hurt, I ran when my heart was pounding, I even ran when I felt sick. I kept going because yesterday the currently-injured Other Runner in our house was really lovely and encouraging when I whinged about my crap run yesterday morning and he said the hard bit was running through the pain. So today I ran and thought about the things that were irritating me and used them to keep going, and I looked at the lambs getting fat and the yarrow taking over the verges and the tiny crab apples starting on the trees and I listened to the birds and I didn’t stop running. And I kept on going when my legs hurt because I remembered that I had given birth four times and that pain wasn’t always a bad thing. And then a van stopped in a gateway in front of me and a man got out and I thought oh help he’s going to say something rude about fat girls running.

But he didn’t. He said ‘keep going, you’re doing really well’ and I said ‘don’t…I have to run a marathon next year’ and he said ‘nice one, keep it up’.

So I did.

mens sana in corpore sano

Today I’m having a rest day. How nice that I can make lying about doing nothing sound important. I will, however, be reading lots of stuff about marathons, and looking at race calendars to work out a schedule for the next year.

Good news: I feel thinner already. Struggling in from Costco with a bag of dog food that weighs 15kg, I realised I’m carrying nearly two of them in excess weight. I’m hoping that running will get easier as I lose some dogfood weight. Fitter, thinner and with a healthy heart – yay running.

My skin is brighter, I am feeling full of happy thoughts and I have lots of energy. I’m sure all the healthy food I’m eating, and the gallons of water I’m drinking will be helping, but I think running is good for mind and body. This study agrees with me, comparing runners with people who meditate. I can understand that; when I was running at university, I found the mindlessness of running would act like a kaleidoscope, shaking my thoughts and re-ordering them so when I came home even Ulysses made sense. (Well, almost.)