Sh*t Happens...

...but so, luckily, does good stuff!

The observant among you will have noticed that I haven't blogged for a while. Ahem! To be more accurate I haven't blogged since March and I've only blogged 11 times this year altogether. After hitting my blogging pinnacle in 2011, with a blog post more or less every other day, 2012 has been a bit of a famine for bon mots.

My excuse? Well, life just kind of got in the way. Not in the really tough and horrible way that it has done in the past, but in an altogether happier and much more fun way. I can safely say that I have never been happier. And I like that. I like that a lot!

I'm hoping that this little cloud of happiness will keep on floating around for quite some time to come. But I confess I'm aso hoping that I get myself back into some of my other life stuff too. For example, I definitely need to start running again. My Race a Month Challenge fell this month (although my awesome running partner in crime is still plugging on, completing her May race last weekend) and if I'm honest I've actually only run 5 times this year, 4 races and 1 training run. There is no excuse except distraction and laziness.

Oh, and I also need to start blogging again.

Back on the road

So, today was race 3 in the great 2012 race-a-month challenge. The venue - Grangemouth; the distance - 10k; the time - 1:04:09.

Am I happy with the time? Not entirely. I was hoping to get back within the hour but with no training, I guess this isn't too bad. And it does, at least, break my race time decline, being a good 30 seconds better than my last 10k (even though it's a good 8 minutes slower than my PB).

It does, however, show just how much I need to get back into my training and regular running if I'm to improve my PB this year. Or be ready for my second half marathon in May.

Next up is the Balfron 10k in April. Time to lace my shoes a bit more regularly, I think.

Through wind and rain...

Well, yesterday saw me run my first race of the year, as predicted last time I posted. It was the first of my race a month challenge set by the awesome Just Frances. This will see us get through 2012 with a minimum of one organised race a month. We already have a few mapped out and a few gaps in the schedule, but yesterday was the day we got it all kicked off.

And, to be honest, weather-wise, we would have struggled to get a worse day - short of blizzard conditions, that is! As Frances tells me, she's run in colder conditions, but yesterday was the whole package of yukky conditions - rain, strong headwind, bitingly cold, with muddy and uneven conditions underfoot. Added to our combined lack of training, we were fearing the worst. To be honest, I was convinced I was likely to come last having looked at last year's results. And while I'm not running to win, if I'm entirely honest, I find coming last a real problem.

But as it turns out, I did ok. My time wasn't the best (1:04:51 - my slowest yet for a 10k), and my running certainly wasn't elegant. But I didn't disgrace myself - I wasn't last, I managed to run the whole race without stopping and I crossed the finish line with some (but not a lot) of puff left. And while I was shattered afterwards and in my bed by 9pm last night, today I'm not feeling too bad at all. A few twinges but no crippling muscle strains or aching joints.

And surprising amounts of energy - must be all those endolphins. Either that or my post race nutrition - it's all about eating and drinking the right things after all...

Racing ahead of myself

Regular readers of this blog will know that last year saw me taking on perhaps my biggest challenge yet - running a marathon with my awesome partner in crime. It was, I confess, a hard slog - not all of the time but as the distances got longer and the race got nearer, it became a real trial.

I can't say that I enjoyed it but I am exceptionally proud of myself that I completed it. Before, during and after the race I was firm in my conviction that I wouldn't do another one. The pain - physical and psychological - was just too much for me, and having done it once I didn't feel any great compulsion to do it again. I can safely say I really didn't understand how people could become addicted to such a god awful experience.

Just over 3 months on, has my view changed? Not really. I'm not quite so anti trying another marathon 'in due course' now, but it's still not something I feel compelled to rush out and do straight away. I haven't given up the running however.

Or to be more accurate, I won't be giving up the running. I have rather given it up over the winter but that's starting to change. I got out on my first run in 2 months at the weekend and while my time wasn't great and I felt pretty sore for a few days afterwards, it's also true to say that I felt good afterwards. It was great to get the air in my lungs again, to stretch my legs out and to stomp round my 4 mile running route.

Which is just as well really, since the aforementioned Frances has challenged me to a race a month for 2012 and we have our first one lined up for next weekend. Luckily it's just (!?) a 10k so I've got half a chance of surviving it with only minimal training.

However, for minimal read 'No' training. And if I'm not careful that might be the way it is this year. For a variety of reasons I'm expecting to find my personal time under pressure this year. I'm not unhappy about that but it does mean I'm going to have to be much more disciplined about my training schedule. Before work runs might need to start happening once the mornings get light enough. Weekend runs will need to be squeezed in as and when to get some longer distances under my belt.

I'm looking forward to it. No, really I am. I'm particularly looking forward to enjoying my running again, without the fear of 26.2 miles hanging over me as it did for large parts of last year. But knowing me and my competitive streak, I'll just replace the challenge of endurance with one of speed and will spend my year obsessing about PBs.

Still, there are worse things to obsess about...

Storms

We often talk about the still before the storm, but what about the peace that comes after it?

As with this week's weather, there's often damage and daily lives can be thrown out of kilter. Things that have been around for a long time can be uprooted and over-turned. It can be difficult to come to terms with sometimes, and the change can be hard.

But sometimes the new perspective can be liberating - not necessarily straight away, but in time you can come to appreciate the new view that you have, the space that wasn't there before, the fresh light in your surroundings.

And just sometimes, that new light and space can allow something really wonderful to grow.

Me? Well, I survived the storm. There was some damage and things have changed, but I found my way through - and found myself at the same time. Now it's time for my something wonderful...

2012 - here I come!

TWTYTW

Well, it's that time of year again when I look back at the year that's been, and try to make sense of it all. And it really depends where you look what the year appears to have been.

Looking at my Facebook status updates randomly captured by the Facebook bot and collaged above, I appear to have the most banal of existences. I'm not sure what that tells me - I don't think I'm as shallow as this little selection implies, but who knows! There are a few highlights in there - my continuing search for a permanent residence, my awesome friends, the usual niggles from work, my weakness for the guilty pleasures of idoitic TV, and hints of my new found partner-in-crime. But the real highs (and lows) of the year aren't captured, other than obliquely.

There's nothing, for example, about my running challenge - which is strange because I'm pretty sure I bored my online friends senseless with it this year. Who knows, perhaps even the bot was bored! There's also precious little about my life goals for the year - which is interesting, since they don't really appear to have been central to my day to day musings. And there's also not much about my great adventure to Sicily, surely one of the highlights of my year - not so much for the travelling, which was great, but for the sense of freedom, independence and confidence that it brought me, finally!

So, when I look back (personally*) on 2011 that's probably what stands out the most for me. 2011 as the year when I finally came to terms with who and what I am, and learned to love it. Work-in-progress me has come a long way over the last 12 months, and you know what? I'm pretty proud of myself for it.

And what about 2012**? What's it going to be like? Well, I have a feeling it's going to be a good year, perhaps one of the best. I'm in a great place personally, good things are happening, and I feel ready to make the most of them. I have awesome family and friends, I'm healthy, happy, safe, secure. Life is good. What else is there?

*As I say above, this is a personal reflection on the year. Self indulgent, I know, but that's what this blog is about! If you want a political or news review, try here for just one perspective on 2011 on a less insular scale.

** And if you want to know the real stock take on my 2011 goals, tune in tomorrow (or so!) for a round up and preview of my resolutions and goals for 2012.

Stripped bare

I was thinking the other day, it's been a while since I spent a day naked in public. I mean, if I know I'm not leaving the flat, I'll do it. But outside? With nothing on? No, not for quite some time.

If you haven't clicked on the link above yet, by now you may well be wondering what on earth I'm on about - or just what kind of place Stirling is these days! If you have clicked (digitally or metaphorically), you'll know I'm talking about having a make-up free day. Perhaps not quite as daring as the full Lady Godiva, but in some ways no less scary.

The good news is that my skin is so much better these days, and the thought of braving the outside without make-up is therefore much less daunting. I put that down to a couple of things - wearing less, and better, make up on a day to day basis, and a more consistent skin care regime. I only have to look at my friends who don't wear make up to realise that if I'm probably on the right track with that. 

But I'm convinced it's also due to a more stable, content and positive me. Less stress and angst really does seem to benefit my skin.

The bad news? Well, I'm not sure there is any, to be honest. Other than me still feeling the need to disguise my flaws and imperfections on a daily basis. Is that a bad thing? Yes and no, I guess. The make up I tend to wear is so light that it doesn't do much more than just smooth things out. It certainly doesn't change my face to the degree that I see some women trying to. But the fact that I feel the need for cover-up probably says something about my (lack of) confidence.

I don't think I'm vain, but I am conscious of how I look. Right or wrong, I feel people will judge me by how I look as much as by what I do or say. Part of me is bound up in how I look, perhaps too much. Not all of me, but hiding my imperfections is still something I feel the need to do to bolster my courage. Maybe that's what I need to work on next...

Obscenity

As some of my online friends already know, I settled down this afternoon for a lazy pre Christmas Sunday afternoon - all my present buying is pretty much done, I've had a couple of lovely Christmas nights out already and have at least one more feast to look forward to before the big day itself. Not to mention another trip out for festive cocktails at my favourite watering hole.

Recovering from the pre-season festivities as I was, I thought I'd throw on a DVD as I lounged on the sofa in my (for a change) cosy living room with the heating on full blast. I was in the mood for some music, so I opted for the Live Aid DVD set I got a few Christmases back. Since I was in for the long haul, instead of flicking through and finding the artists I most wanted to see, I let it run from the beginning - including the original news report from Michael Buerk that kick started the whole Band Aid/Live Aid thing.

It's a while since I've seen the footage - and believe me, it's still as heart rending now as it was then. I'm not ashamed to say that I cried as I watched it again. And while I watched the Band Aid video. And again, when *that* Cars track came on. It is shocking and I defy anyone not to be moved. Disgusted. Appalled.

But do you know what makes me cry even more? The fact that it's still happening. All over the world. In this so called modern world of ours, even today, there are millions who go hungry - in fact, more than the combined populations of USA, Canada and the European Union put together. Hunger is a far bigger killer than AIDS, than malaria or than TB. 25% of children in the developing world are under-nourished.

At the same time, we throw away far more food EVERY DAY than it would take to feed those starving people. There are more obese people on the planet than there are starving ones - about 50% more. And that's a big number when you consider there are nearly 1 billion starving people.

Now, to me - that's real obscenity!

So, at this time of year when we prepare to tuck into our Christmas dinners, containing upwards of 3,000 calories in one meal - about 3 or 4 times what we actually NEED, I'm spending a bit of time finding out what I can do to help.

There's the obvious one about donating to organisations trying to help - people like the UN Food Programme, the Disasters Emergency Committee, Save the Children and many many more. And while it's nowhere near as extreme in the UK, far too many children here grow up in poverty too - approximately 4 million according to some sources. 4 million! In our 'civilised' society. Ok, they're probably not starving but they are still suffering. And their life chances are significantly worse as a result.

Giving money is the easy bit to be honest, my real challenge is to work out what else I can do to make a difference. I'm lucky that there are small things I can do through my job to try to change some of the conditions - but it feels like nowhere near enough. I need to do some serious thinking.

And as I look around at my life - my comfortable, luxurious, safe life - I'm embarrassed. Embarrassed at thinking that sometimes it's hard. Embarrassed at worrying about the silly things I worry about, getting annoyed at trivia. And embarrassed about the excesses that even my relatively low key life allows me.

Obscene - you bet it is! Funny, you never heard Mary Whitehouse complaining about that...

Romantic notions

As a great philosopher once said, What's love got to do with it?

This blog post has been in my head for a few days now but there's been so much going on that it kept getting pushed out. But now, I'm back in the flat at a reasonable time for a change and I can finally sit down to write it.

It's a strange word and concept, romance. Mention it and most people will think of the Mills & Boon, roses and chocolates version. Love, coupledom, moonlight and flowers.

But that's not what prompted me to think about it. No, it was other meanings that lead me to this post. I was listening to the radio and they were announcing the fixtures for the next round of the Scottish cup. One of the presenters commented, Ah yes, the romance of the Cup - meaning the time when the smaller clubs get the chance to play and win against the 'big boys'.

And seeing as I've been spending much of my time in Callander this week, I was reminded of another version - the Trossachs being the birthplace of modern tourism, spurred on by Sir Walter Scott and his romanticisation of the Scottish highlands 200 years ago.

Thinking about what do these two different meanings have in common? Well, they're both about fantastical or unrealistic views of the world and life. And is that what we do when we get into all that love stuff? Do we just leave our common sense at the door and allow ourselves to get carried away with non-sensical notions?

Or am I just a bit jaded by my not particularly successful attempts at it so far? Much as it terrifies me (no, really, it does!), and despite my crippling lack of success so far, fool that I am, I'd quite like the opportunity to find out the answer to that question. Who knows, maybe, just maybe, sometime soon I'll find a frog to kiss. Or maybe even a dolphin!

Facing demons

I've just spent an amazing couple of days at the NextGen Broadband conference in Bristol, of which more tomorrow once I've had time to reflect on and digest all that I've heard. But for now, I wanted to share with you how fantastic I'm feeling about having faced down another demon, and achieved another first at the same time.

I've blogged before thatI don't always feel as confident as I can appear, and that putting myself out there in public is not necessarily something I look forward to. I was going to say, not something I find easy but the truth is, that while I don't like it, these days I don't actually find it that hard. Frequent forays into the limelight mean that I seem to have found a way of dealing with it and I've learned the things I need to do to come across well - how to project my voice, how to pad for time whilst thinking about what to say next, now to calm and centre myself before starting. All of which now helps with the swan* impression I have become adept at.

But none of that means I actually enjoy it. Admittedly there are some circumstances that are easier than others - smaller groups, familiar faces, a well kent subject - but for the rest? Well, it's just scary. Last week I did my first national conference plenary presentation. This week I went one step further and was a panelist on an 'expert debate' at the Next Gen conference. And although I was nervous, this week I decided not to let the nerves get the better of me, and with the help of my fellow panelists I actually managed to enjoy myself.

Apparently I was quite good too, earning lots of positive feedback and almost groupie-like attention afterwards. (These were IT boffs remember before you get too excited!) I was told I was a breath of fresh air (for which read, didn't know the detail) and willing to be controversial (for which read, didn't realise the sensitivities). But the comment I liked best was from the young female conference attendee, who thanked me for saying that the debates were too technical and virtually unintelligible to the lay person, and that if they wanted to make progress they would need to find a way to speak in plain English. She told me she had spent the conference wondering if she 'got it', but now she had the confidence to tell them just to explain it better. Result! I confess, that made my day.

And now, as I'm still buzzing with adrenalin at almost midnight, I can strongly recommend facing your own demons. The sense of achievement is immense. Knowing that you have done it will give you so much confidence. And if you're lucky, you might get the added bonus of being an inspiration to others.

What are you waiting for???

Minor chord

As more regular readers will know, after my fantastic holiday in Italy the other month, last week I suffered a bit of a slump. It caught me by surprise but it also gave me some time to think, and I realised a couple of things.

Firstly, I realised that the lows I feel now are more about a fear of falling back into the really sad times of the past couple of years, rather than actually feeling the sadness itself. A good friend helped me think that one through and gave me some tactics for keeping it at bay. One of which involved finding a happy memory to replace it with. And what I found worked best for me was to use music. I managed to find a happy song that I can now play in my head whenever I need it. For which, thanks xx

The other thing that got me to thinking about was how music plays (pardon the pun) in my life. In the last couple of years I think I've used music as my defence mechanism. It's been the bubble I can wrap myself in to keep the world out. My iPod has been great for that. With the earbuds in I can literally close myself off and not have to engage with anyone else.

When I thought about it, I realised I hadn't really been listening to my music much recently, apart from when I was running. I realised I hadn't needed to close myself off in the same way. That I was ok with being me and being in the moment, without the need for a shield or protection.

And then I realised how much I missed my music. While it had been protection, it had also been fun. I really enjoyed my A-Z challenge from a couple of summers ago, and I wanted to get back to that place again.

So I've dug out my iPod again, and I'm trawling iTunes and YouTube and I'm refinding my music. Only this time it's for celebration and enjoyment, not protection and escape. And, do you know what? I think it actually sounds better...

Driven to distraction

Today I got to indulge in something I don't do all that often any more - drive a car. Not my car. No, it's still sitting gathering dust (literally) outside the flat. This was a work car. Nowadays, the most driving I seem to do is for work, and helpfully we have a policy of only using pool cars for work journeys. So my little Honda Civic sits outside my flat from one week's end to the next, gathering dust, leaves and bird shit - and slowly flattening its battery.

I've been meaning all year to get rid of my car. I don't need it any more. I have the luxury of being able to walk to work. There are excellent public transport connections around here for wherever I choose to go on a regular basis, and my green conscience has increased during the 2+ years I've been in my current job. I don't have small children to move around. I can get my groceries delivered. I can even hire a car if I do need one on the odd occasion. So what is it that's stopping me from letting go?


It's a question I've been pondering for a few months now. First of all it was persuading myself that there was an alternative, a viable life without a car. Then it was persuading my family. Then it was whether I would need it for my sister's visit in the summer. Now, I think, it's just lack of organisation.

Well, that and a fear of losing my independence. For as long as I've been driving, I've equated having a car to having my freedom. The ability to jump into a vehicle that I control and just take off if I want/need to. When I lived outside the city, it was a necessity. There's no way I would be contemplating this if I still lived in my previous home, or the one before that. But where I am now...nope, a car isn't an essential.

But I confess I'm still finding it hard to make the break. And that's even with all the problems I've had with batteries going flat, brakes seizing up and the car just generally getting filthy through lack of use. Not to mention how much it costs to tax and insure the damn thing, just for it to sit looking pretty outside the flat.


Today was fun. I do like driving. I like the feeling of accelerating along the open road. I like being able to see places that public transport doesn't go. But I don't need a car of my own to do that. And if the worst comes to the worst, and I need a car again - well, I can just buy one can't I?!

So, is that enough to get me moving? Watch this space and I'll keep you posted.

Perhaps, as inspiration, I should remember that the car mirror photo was taken one evening when I'd had to get the RAC out (again!) to recharge my battery and I had to take a 90 minute drive out to top the battery back up. While it was a beautiful evening for a drive, it was also a complete hassle - and one that, to be honest, I could do without!
 

The race is on!

I blogged on Friday that I was intending to get back out running again, and on Saturday I did with the awesome Just Frances. She acted as my conscience and I ensured I got out of bed after an unexpected late night, and then dragged me out on my first run since the dreaded 26.2  in October. And, do you know what? It was really good. It felt good to be stretching my legs again and although our time was really slow (48 minutes for a measly 4 miles), it reminded me how much I used to enjoy my running before I put myself through the physical and psychological torture that was my marathon challenge.

And it also made the decision I made to take up Frances' challenge of a race a month for the next year, seem like the right one. I'll not, however, be taking up her offer of doing the Loch Ness marathon again next year. I'm not quite that daft - almost, but not quite. Instead I think I'll stick to 10ks and half marathons. They're much more my distance.

Which is something that even a year ago I never thought I'd hear myself say. Sometimes I find it really quite amazing how far I've come in such a short space of time - and with my running too...

So, now it's time to knuckle down to train for our first post marathon race, which will be the Reindeer Run at Stirling University on 27th November. A nice little 10k run. Not a huge amount of training required. Unless, you're competitive like me (and Frances) that is. After all, I've got to try and beat her this time!!

So I think, given the time of year and weather, I need to get back into a gym routine to complement my running. Now that I don't have to spend time getting my distances up, it should be a bit easier to fit in some cross training, and hopefully it will help to improve my overall stamina and consequently my running times.

Oh my god, I've become a running bore. When did that happen...?

The road

The road goes on forever
And its end is out of sight
Its twists and turns keep hidden
The way that lies ahead

I travel my road gladly
I do not seek to know
I take the path before me
I follow where I go

The beauty of this life I have
This journey that is mine
The joy and light and wonderment
The pleasure of my prize

I hope to find my happiness
I trust that I'll find joy
I leave my doubts beside the road
I face where I will go

                                               Me

Times, they are a-changin'

As I blogged yesterday, it's getting towards that time of year again - autumn, winter, cold, fog, frost, Halloween, Bonfire Night, Christmas, New Year, snow, and did I mention cold?

It's also when it starts getting darker and, for the UK, when the clocks revert to GMT (or UTC as it now seems to be called). Changing my clocks set my mind to thinking about how time marches on, and how it changes the things around it: - weather, seasons, light, structures, views, fine wine, good cheeses, well cured meat (I'm getting hungry now, time to stop this list...) and me!

Regular readers to this blog will know I've been working through some stuff over the last couple of years. There have been times when it's been really hard and I've wondered how I'll cope. There have been days when even just getting up in the morning and facing the world has been a trial, and I confess at times melancholy won. I have been so sad at moments that I thought I'd never laugh again.

Fortunately, those times didn't happen too often, and when they did I knew I could always rely on my amazing friends to be there for me. They have been tolerant, supportive, loving, long-suffering, cajoling, sensitive, directive, understanding. They have been there. And for that I am truly, truly grateful.

But these last few months, I've been realising that I may just have managed to develop the new me, the more confident, happy, balanced, fun-to-be-with version. The model that doesn't need constant support and reassurance to be able to function effectively, that doesn't feel less than, that is complete in itself.

It hasn't happened suddenly. In fact it's kind of crept up on me and caught me by surprise. I think it was my recent holiday that cemented the realisation. I like me. I like my own company and I think I'm fun to be with. I like other company too, but I don't need it. I don't just cope or get by without it anymore, I live and love life as I find it and as it is. I no longer feel a let down at the end of a great evening out with friends when I go home to my (solo) flat and close the door on the world. I'm left with the happy glow, not the desperation of loneliness. I smile to myself more now. And I think I'm probably the better to know for it!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy all the time. I have bad days as well. But they're bad days like we all get - stuff going wrong, frustration, mistakes and cock-ups. They're no longer dark thunder clouds in my life, now they seem to be pretty much just a passing shower. I can carry an umbrella for that!

I still value my friends. My days are undoubtedly happier and more fun because of them. They add to the quality of light, love and laughter, and I wouldn't be without them. But hopefully it's less of a one-way street for them these days, that they feel there's some give and not just take from me, that they can remember again why we are friends in the first place.

So, yay me! Yay you! And thanks... xx

Ignorance isn't bliss, it's just plain dumb

Now that I'm leaving Italy, I realise – with some shame – how little I actually knew/know about the place, its history and its people. For example, it wasn't until I was leaving last night on the ferry that I realised where Malta is (I know Malta isn't Italy but it's indicative of my lack of knowledge, embarrassingly!).

I've managed to visit Italy during its 150^th birthday celebrations. It was in 1861 that Garibaldi lead the unification of Italy (including Sicily) into one nation state. Before that, I think, it was a series of principalities and small states. It took me some time to realise that the banners I kept seeing everywhere we're celebrating this fact. And even longer to remember that it was Garibaldi who was responsible. I now understand why there are so many streets dedicated to Vittorio Emmanuele – he was their first king. I'm not so sure who Cavour was, but there are lots of streets to him too. [Note to self: remember to look that up on Wiki when you're next online.]

I'd also never put together that Sicily played a significant role in the Punic Wars between Rome and Carthage. Hamilcar and Hannibal both battled over the island. I seem to remember references in the set book passages we had to translate in O Grade Latin. Having been to Tunisia (Carthage, I think?) and now Sicily has brought a bit more to life. Of course, visiting Rome should have done the same, but it was just so full of tourists and tourist tat that it was hard to see beyond it. (Have I mentioned at all, that I didn't like Rome much?!)

As well as Rome and Carthage battling over the island, it seems to have been the target of a huge number of other invaders. Perhaps not surprising, given its prime location at the crossroads of the Mediterranean? Amongst these invaders were – the Greeks, the Turks, the Spanish, the French, the Germans, the Allied Forces towards the end of WWII and now, it seems, waves of hopeful emigrants from North Africa, the Middle East and the Indian sub-continent – if the media is to be believed, many of them illegal. No wonder then, that the island is such a hotch potch of different cultures, cuisines and traditions. Each of them brought and left a little something, which all put together makes Sicily what it is today.

I would highly recommend a visit to this wonderful island. Don't miss out Palermo despite what everyone says. If you do, you'll miss an important element of what Sicily is. If you don't like edge to your holidays, however, don't stay long – it won't be for you. Head off instead to the seaside towns and hill top villages, visit the remnants of the various civilisations to populate and create the place and – above all – forget any notions of diet and enjoy the food! It's what I'll be doing when I come back next time.

26.2

So, I've finally got round to doing my post-marathon blog post. It's taken me this long partly because I've been so utterly exhausted and dog tired, but also partly because it's taken me until today to really appreciate and enjoy the fact that I RAN A MARATHON!!!!

What was that? You want to hear the gory details? Oh, well - ok, if you insist...

We arrived in Inverness on Saturday morning and after a bit of a shaky start with a mixed up hotel booking, we soon got ourselves sorted with our race numbers and headed off for carbs. Which we found in the form of fish and chips for Frances, and baked potato and chilli - with some extra chips - for me. (I'm really going to miss that carb-loading, you know!!)

We also sorted ourselves out with our rehydration therapy for the next day - none of these, but it was a bottle of Talisker in honour of Paul - the reason/inspiration for our marathon challenge.

And then it was time for an early night and bed. Bed rather than sleep, that is. I was far too nervous to get a good night's sleep, but actually having Frances there meant I was less anxious than I would otherwise have been. I was amazed that I managed to get to sleep at all but it wasn't the best night's sleep I've ever had.

All too soon it was morning and time for us to a) try to fuel up and b) head off for the bus to the marathon start. The former wasn't very successful and the latter was just long and boring. Not helped by the walk across the wet playing field on the way to the bus leading to us getting wet feet (you should ask Frances about wet feet!).

But then we were on our way and it was too late to turn back. To be honest, it was too late to turn back when I registered for the damn thing! But by the time the bus left, it was definitely physically too late to turn back.

[Apologies, this is turning into a marathon post...about my marathon]

To speed things up, from arrival at the start line it went a bit like this...

Leave bus
Drizzle
Long Q2P
Heavier drizzle
Huddle at start
And we're off....
5 minutes later we cross the start
1 mile later we realise we're running way too fast
Rain now
2 miles after that we're still running too fast
Heavier rain
1 mile later, hail
Downhill stops
1 mile later, uphill starts (repeat for 20 miles!)
Suddenly we've completed 6 miles (almost quarter of the way there)
13.1 miles, half way. Yay!
OMG, still another 13.1 miles to go...

18 miles, is it time to stop running yet? What do you mean there's another 8 still to go? Surely it must be time to stop now? You could just stop, you know. No-one would mind. Just stop. It will feel so much better. Stop running. No-one needs to know. SHUT UP!
[Repeat for 8 miles, 2 hours]
 
19 miles, will this hill ever end? At least the sun's out now. I wish those cyclists would disappear. Do you think anyone would notice if I jumped on the back. Another ambulance? How many retirals are there? Do you think anyone would notice if I jumped in the back?
21 miles, there's Frances ahead. Wonder if I can catch her up? Hmm, chirpy. What's she taken? Can I have some? Do you think she'd notice if I jumped on for a piggy back?

22 miles, and she's off again. How can she still run after 22 miles? At least I don't have pretend to be chirpy now. I don't think my pretending was very successful. Damn, now I'm going to have to cheer myself up. God, I hate this. Who's daft idea was this?
23 miles, only 3 more to go. You can walk 3 miles in an hour. If you run a bit, you could do it faster. Just run a bit. Go on, just move your legs a bit faster. Up and down, that's it. Don't stop. Up and down. How hard can it be? Ok. That hard.
24 miles, starting to come into Inverness and civilisation. I'd better start trying to run again. 2 minute running spurt, yay! Let's try another one. Break it down into 10 minute chunks. Run for as long as you can and then walk the rest of the 10 minutes. You can manage longer than 2 minutes...well, maybe not.

25 miles, it's only 1 mile to go, just ignore the 0.2. There's people around, at least try to run. Oh, cheers. That helps. Wave. Run, that would be more effective. I'm not going to stop now
25.5 miles, I can run the last bit. It's not far. It is far. How far is that finish line? Still can't see it. Yay, Frances, Dave and Emma, Anna and Charlie. Epic support team. I'd better look like I can run at least some of it. Head up, photographers around.

Fall across finish line. Hands up in surrender, that should make a good photo. Burst into tears (again). Never doing that again....

Well, you did ask!

5'49'25

It's done. I now never have to run another marathon in my life.

Gory details tomorrow, but for tonight - just know, I finished in 5'49'25 and I was 201 in my age group. Not bad for a first time out.

Personally I was just delighted to finish and not be a quitter!

On persevering

Tomorrow, as my reader knows, sees me face my latest challenge - the Loch Ness Marathon. All 26.2 miles of it.

I don't mind confessing, there have been moments - many of them - when I've felt like giving up. Running long distances isn't something I find easy, my body isn't built for it and there have been times when I've wondered if my mind is either. Doing the training was tough going, even just finding time for it was a challenge. And the constant ache in my muscles and joints - well, you really don't need to know the details of that!

My sister wrote not long ago that there were very few times in her life that she'd given up on anything. At the time I thought she was just being dramatic but when I thought about it, I realised she was right. I also realised that it wasn't something I could say about myself. Indeed, the photo for this was taken to commemorate a less than successful endeavour of my youth, which I won't go into now but suffice to say, was not my best hour and was only salvaged by the love and long suffering-ness of my Mum and Dad! And was also pretty much all about being a quitter.

That's not why I'm pushing myself to do the race tomorrow, but I will make my second confession of the night and say I'm really quite proud of myself for being here now and facing it down tomorrow. I do seem to have developed some staying power in my old(er) age so perhaps there's hope for me yet. And before anyone mentions it, ok, perhaps not sticking power in all aspects of my life, but it's a start, right?

So, that's it. Tomorrow's race day. There's nothing left for it now other than to sit back, watch Dr Who and try to get some rest before the big day. Wish me luck...

For whom the bell tolls

I posted yesterday to say that it was only a week to go until I face my marathon challenge in the Highlands, along the banks of Loch Ness and ending up in the fair city of Inverness. And also to say how absolutely terrified I am at the prospect. It really does frighten me. And the closer it gets, the worse I feel. Rationally I'm telling myself not to get worked up, but emotionally, well that's a different story.

Part of the fear is whether my body will hold up for the whole 26.2 miles. So far the furtherest I've run is 18 miles - and that was at a cost. In fact I had a physio appointment this morning to try to sort out the calf strain I picked up as a result of those 18 miles. I was fully expecting not to be able to walk this afternoon, but Simon really must have charmed hands since I'm not feeling too bad after all. It turns out that far from worrying about my calf, it's my shoulders that are the real worry, with several golf ball knots of nastiness tied up across that area of my upper back. Needless to say, I'm booked back in next Monday to undo the damage next Sunday is bound to wreak.

Unfortunately, the calf strain put paid to my distance training, and has also severely hampered my stamina work too. So, in truth, I don't actually know if I have it in me to keep moving for 26 miles.

The other fear is whether I'll be mentally strong enough. Yes, the constant pounding of foot on pavement for 26 plus miles is hard going. But equally tough is the emotional impact. For one thing, running for 6 hours is actually pretty boring - there are only so many times you can run through your current list of 'things to think about'. And then as exhaustion sets in, the ability to put thoughts in any kind of consecutive or sensible order vanishes and distraction by way of thinking becomes impossible. Even listening to music can become a bit of a trial - and that's supposing the iPod lasts as long as I do. Towards the end, there is every chance that I'll actually be forced to think about the fact that I'm running, still running, and I'm not sure that's going to be a good thing. Perhaps the hills will distract me? That's the hills I'll be running up, by the way, not ones to look at!

I was looking back over my various running posts from the last year and I was reminded of just how far I've come in such a short space of time. I had a wry smile when I saw me earlier this year congratulating myself for running 7 miles. I was also reminded how emotional I was when I completed the Edinburgh Half Marathon back in May. Even thinking about it now makes me overcome with emulsion - doubtless it will be much the same on Sunday. Lucky Emma - now you know what to expect!!

Which is an opportune time to give a shout out to my support team - those who've kept me going with advice and encouragement during my training this year, those who've worried about whether I should be doing this at all and tried (for all the right reasons) to dissuade me, the fabulous Sue who stepped in at the last minute to meet me at the end of my half marathon in Edinburgh and the wonderful Emma who has agreed to be there at the finish line to pick up the pieces. As I've said many many times, I have some truly amazing and fantastic friends.

And it's also time to shout out for Frances, my awesome running companion, temporary lodger and new found partner in crime. If it wasn't for Frances, I wouldn't be doing this, and while at times that might feel like quite a good thing, in reality it/she has pushed me to dig down deep and discover inner strength I didn't know I had. And for that I'm truly grateful. Thanks Frances, looking forward to beating this running demon with you on Sunday!