Date: Saturday, November 16, 2019

Distance: 10.24 miles

Listened to: Various Desert Islands Discs episodes, including actor Sir Ian McKellen and author Philip Pullman

Tait is a legend.

He is my cousin Emma’s son. He died on November 15. He had a very rare condition, which does not even have a proper name. He was wheelchair-bound for most of his life, struggled to eat and his voice was reduced to a whisper. BUT HE WAS AWESOME!

I cannot express how inspired I was and continue to be by this precious boy. Although his body’s functionality deteriorated during the 15 years of his life, his spirit was strong and he loved to love. I was lucky enough to spend time with him on three occasions in person and many times on FaceTime and via a video messaging app across the Atlantic to his home in Ottawa, Canada.

Tait had a beautiful smile, a Beavis & Butt-Head laugh, an appreciation of poo jokes, was a big fan of kisses, The Beatles, Oreos and meeting new people. An example of how wonderful Tait was his stint as a Walmart greeter. This was his dream. How could anyone not want to be welcomed to a store by that sweet face? You can view a news story on his special day here.

Although expected, his death was tough to take. My family all shed tears and will continue to do so. In some ways, it felt worse than when my Dad died. Tait was so young and he was fully aware of his decline. His immediate family is also so far away. All I want to do is rush over and hug them all, but Ottawa is 3,000 miles away.

As readers of this blog know, Dad was my inspiration for running. His lack of mobility during a hospital visit spurred me on to sign up for a 10k. I have been running ever since and it has helped me through some tough moments, not least Dad’s death in August last year.

When I heard of Tait’s passing, I was already half way into a 75-mile challenge for this month. I bumped it up to 100 miles the same day. The way I cope with grief is to find something positive to focus on. Everyone grieves, and should be allowed to grieve, in their own way. When Dad died, I could not do some of the normal things. I did not cry all the time, but shopping, cooking, Zumba…were all a struggle. Talking about Dad helped..as did running. Running is my solution for this sad situation too. 

That meant not breaking stride in my current running regime. Having trained for the Great West Run (when I wrote Tait’s name on my wrist for inspiration) , I was at a loss as to what I should do next. Lovely husband John suggested repeating my half marathon programme with a bit of hill training thrown in. So, that was what I was doing in preparation for two half marathons fin 2020.

I was due to head out for a 10-miler the day after Tait’s passing. I ventured out with trepidation as emotional runs have not always gone well for me. This was the best run of my short, shuffling career. I did not stop and I got all the way up Cattery Hill for only the second time ever. Later in the week, I made it up other local inclines – Church Street, Suzi Hill and Highfield Drive – and could only theorise that Tait helped me along the way.

An angel on my shoulder maybe or an appreciation of the fact that I have two working legs. The usual urge to stop was overtaken by a reminder that I am lucky to still be here and to be able to move.

I am now at 83 miles, so I should get to the 100 by the end of month. No, I will get to 100 miles even if I have to crawl!

My precious Canadian family – Tait’s mum Emma, auntie Melly, granny Alison and sister Aislinn, in particular – are holding a Celebration of Life today. We cannot be there, but that does not mean we do not love him. We will all remember him with real joy. Tait was truly wonderful and continues to be an inspiration.

#runningfortait

Date: Sunday, October 13, 2019

Distance: 13.1 miles

Listened to: My friend Lisa and random tunes, including The Greatest Showman

In my last blog post, I listed my efforts for preparing for my second half marathon – the Great West Run in Exeter. If you remember, this was supposed to be my first half after I bought this for myself and my husband John for Christmas to give me something to aim for in 2019. John then trumped my gift with a half in March!

As I crossed the line for No 1, I told John that I would never run another half. Well…not so. I don’t like to waste money – my Dad would never forgive me – and I wanted to run a better half.

Aside from a blip of a cold, I managed to keep to John’s six-week half marathon plan. I also ended September with 15 sweaty miles (across two days) in Venice to collect my 75-mile medal for the month.

The following Friday, I ground out 12 miles on the hilly roads of Kingsbridge before swapping the canals of Venice for the waterways of Birmingham. Bridge of Sighs one weekend…Black Sabbath Bridge the next. I shuffled some hungover miles before heading into tapering territory.

Cue…panic. Tapering makes me worry that I will forget how to run! It is a very bizarre feeling, but I was determined to trust John’s plan. At night though, tapering was not occurring! Fitful sleep and stress dreams (involving runs with water stations where they would not give you water and stewards who did not know which way you should be running) invaded the night and I was convinced I was getting a cold all week.

And then there was the weather. Rain was forecast; lots of rain.

Despite all this doom and gloom, I still had an inkling of confidence boosted by the fact my friend Lisa would be running with me. I was looking forward to running with her. We knew our limitations, but we were determined to get the job done.

We also had John and super-fast Kate (another Kingsbridge-based amazing athlete) to keep us company on the journey up there and in the queues for the toilet (not John as this point). We were a convivial, supportive team dressed in matching bin bags to thwart the rain.

In fact, the rain stayed away, aside from a little drizzle, and the autumnal temperature suited my sweaty, toasty, pre-menopausal inner heating system. When we set off, the legs did not go rigid and they did not give up as we faced the first of many hills. ‘Undulating’, I think the phrase is for this course!

Lisa and I stuck together for the first three miles and I thank her for that. I’m not overly keen on the start of races and her presence definitely made me calmer. I could have used her influence when I had a panic at mile five when I thought I was running downhill and was contemplating the three-mile walk uphill on the return leg of this out-and-back.

In lieu of Lisa’s zen-like aura, I glanced at my wrists where I had written the names of my inspirations: ‘Dad’ on my left and ‘Tait’ on my right. You know about my Dad by now; I simply asked him to help me. Tait is my cousin’s son. He has a life-limiting condition and has never been able to walk unaided. I love him and he makes me keep running.

Meanwhile, I saw some friendly faces on the other side of the road. I high-fived John, Ross and Alex, slapped Kate on the arm (as she did not raise her hand – ooops) and gave Simon a cheer. It really helped to see fellow Kingsbo folk before nearing the turn.

I needn’t have worried though as it would seem I had been subjected to an an optical illusion. I had been running mostly uphill by that point and the return was downhill. I like running downhill! Although I walked for a few seconds from time to time, my confidence grew with every step. I knew I would finish. I started talking to people who were alongside me, high-fived some kids on the roadside, thanked supporters and smiled. I drew the line at the Kipchoge crowd point but I felt good. I did not want to chop my legs off.

The last bit of the race had an unnecessary rise and then a lap around the race track at Exeter Stadium watched by others. Oh lord. No time for a stroll or to even hear my work colleague Mike give me a shout. Sorry Mike. I finished with a smile on my face and my crew were waiting even through they had finished between 20 and 30 minutes before me!

John and Kate whizzed round in 1hr 46mins. Kate finished 7th in our age group! I managed 2hr 21mins, which was faster than my very flat last half. I came 76th out of 122 and that’s ok with me! The best bit was not feeling defeated by my lack of ability. I walked a bit, but I did well enough to be chuffed with my improvement. Progress has been made and that’s enough for little old me.

Two other musings from the Great West Run. The first, it was great to see the water stations using paper cups. Well done. Less plastic is always good. I hope other races follow suit.

The second is that I used a sports drink (powder mixed with water in my own plastic bottle) to give me some energy and Lisa had sent me sports jelly beans, so I had some of those too. But by mile eight, I was craving cheese! I felt bad ignoring all the kids who were offering my jelly babies, but I could not bear the itchy teeth feeling from having consumed so much sugar. If someone had offered me a cube of cheese, I would have been so happy! Could that be a thing? Surely, there could be a savoury option that would work just as well. Answers on a postcard please!

No 2 is done and dusted. Lisa (blue top in middle photo above) and I are already looking for our next race. We do not know what has happened to us, but we are running with it.

Date: Tuesday, August 20, 2019

Distance: 6 miles

Listened to: BBC Radio 4 Desert Island Discs – Dame Kelly Holmes and Colin Firth

Although I have plumbed for this date, this blog covers the day before and countless runs afterwards. The date represents a year after Dad died, so my husband John and I hit Eastbourne seafront again for a precious flat 10km (or 6 miles – you will see why this is important later). I wanted to get under the hour to honour Dad’s memory but the legs were dead by 6km and I had to be content with completing the distance.

I preceded this run with a lolloping lope around the area I spent many holidays at Dad’s former home. I  had completed this route when I had spent a week looking after Dad a few years ago. Rather irritatingly, I cannot find the earlier run in my tracking app, but I know I have improved since I last did it. Progress maybe…at last!

The sub-hour 10km would have been nice but, as running has always been for me, at least I could do it when plenty of others can’t. That said, even though I love my Dad dearly, I am not sure his illness and death can inspire me to run forever. I need something else; maybe something a little more upbeat! Sad running or pinning your emotional survival on a run can be debilitating.

I have found three main new sources of running inspiration: books, virtual races and the a half marathon.

I have become THAT person. The person with all the books about running on her bookshelf. I am a sports fan and ex-rugby reporter, so reading about running is a natural step for me. I also love books. Having read a few now, the standout would have to be Marathon Woman by Kathrine Switzer. It ticked a lot of boxes for me. She was brave, she was a determined, she was an accidental rebel, she led the way for women runners…and, like me, she worked in PR. She was the embodiment of women’s lib in bad sneakers and a tennis dress.

I am fully aware that I am not going to become a sub-three-hour marathon runner overnight by just reading about one, but it makes you appreciate what has gone before (in my lifetime) and that you are lucky to be able to enter races, buy trainers that fit you and shorts that account for womanly curves. Give it a go. John liked it too.

Kathrine gave me inspiration to run in Italy in 38-degree heat this summer, but it was the virtual races that got me off my backside previously and for the rest of August and now into September. There are different types of virtual races but I use the ones where you commit to a number of miles to run in a month and pay £10 to get a medal at the end. I have generally opted for 50 miles, with a crazy 75 last October. I can honestly say that I would not have run those miles if it was not for the medal and deadline it set me. For both June and August, I crammed in 10 miles in the last two days of the month. The deadline works every time and I have never missed one.

Sure, it is not a real race, but if you fear races (like me), this feels like an achievement because you have had to consistently go out running to rack up the miles. Anything that gets people moving has to be a good thing. One of the leading benefits of the virtual races is that it makes you think in miles not kilometres. You record the miles and then send your evidence as a screen grab from your tracker app. Running miles makes me run further. Whereas before I would have been happy with 3km, three miles is now a short run – a whole 2km further than I was happy with before. It’s a subtle shift but an important one.

I am aiming for 65 miles this month, but I do not really need the motivation. John (God love that man!) has set me a programme for our impending half marathon in October. If I stick to the programme, I will easily get to 75 miles this month and I am determined to stick to it. I want to give myself a good chance of getting through this half without wanting to chop my legs off at about nine miles. My preparation looks a bit like this:

• New, bigger trainers – my toes are a mess – I need more space!
• Sports drinks – to take with me on longer runs so I do not lack crucial energy and replace the nutrients I lose through sweating…a lot
• Four runs a week – I have never done more than three before
• Being kind to myself – allowing a few walks uphill when I need them
• Being positive – being proper chuffed when I do run up hills and complete a longer run

With the programme stuck on the fridge, I tick off the runs as I go. I try not to think about the runs or to fear them, and just get out and do them. If I have dead legs, I run slowly. I just get the miles done. Fingers crossed it does the trick.

Date: Saturday/Sunday, May 11/12, 2019

Distance: 26.2 miles/42 km – the MoonWalk London 2019

Listened to: My friend Amanda singing, backed up with a Satchmo impression from her sister Suzie, the chat of my other friends, the dawn chorus…and not a lot else

It’s been a bit quiet on the running front recently. I virus took me out of action for over three weeks that meant even the six stairs in our split-level bungalow were an effort! However, I had committed to doing the MoonWalk with five lovely friends and knew I needed to get myself back into gear for some serious walking.

Although, when you mention the MoonWalk, people often dismiss it as “just a long walk”. They are right, of course, it is a long walk, but does that make it any easier? Even though I consider myself mediocre fit and live in Devon where hills are in abundance, I can tell you walking a marathon distance on the easy terrain of flat paths is hard; harder than I thought it would be.

 

Of course, we did start walking at 11.45pm when normally most of us would be tucked up in bed. While we did not think that really affected us, I am not sure out bodies felt the same way. The first eight miles were just a long walk…pleasant almost. We took in multiple city sights with the pink-lit London Eye the stand-out feature. By halfway, we all needed the toilet, but even after a relatively short stop, the cold and stiffness were setting in. From that point on, we got our heads down and marched through it with our feet and lower limbs (everything below our fanny packs) aching like hell.

At this point, I would like to pay homage to my teammates:

Emma – had run the London Marathon two weeks beforehand so was essentially doing her second marathon in as many weeks

Emily – had walked 18 miles as a practice and knew it would be hard and was not really that keen, but was incredibly stoic and just cracked on, despite the knee support

Lisa – was in pain from step one with cracked heels and blisters forming – she never slowed her pace or complained once #legend

Suzie – a serene teeny tiny yoga teacher in her normal life, she suffered the most from the cold with her foil blanket well and truly in use from an early stage

Amanda – older sister of Suzie (they were both walking to remember their beloved auntie) drifted along in a haze of determination…singing most of the way

All five were absolute troopers and put up with my walking pace (when they must have cursed me at times) and we raised more than £2,500 in the process for breast cancer charities. Job done.

The experience did get me thinking about walking in general. It was already something I was pondering having watched Emma and thousands of other complete heroes in the London Marathon and having read a few running books and listened to a few podcasts lately.

As a novice runner, I am put off entering races by the fact that I may need to walk some of the distance. All the races I have completed have featured a bit of walking…and my sensible head tells me that’s completely ok. Then someone will ask you: “Did you run all the way?” or says they would not want to do a race unless they could run it all, and I have a complete wibble. Add to that, the pressure of cut-off times, and I am stress on toast.

In Lisa Jackson’s book Your Pace Or Mine? What Running Taught Me About Life, Laughter and Coming Last though, she is a great advocate for the chat-run – a pace you can run at while still chatting. For super athletes, like most of my friends, that is achievable at quite high speeds, but Lisa is referring to people who finish nearer the back.

When I watched Emma (and lovely Leanne) at the London Marathon, I was was stood at the 22-mile point with the 13-mile point on the other side of the street. As Emma passed 22 miles, there were people crossing the 13-mile stage. That blew my mind. Emma had been running for over three hours at that point, which meant they had at least three more hours to do. Their marathon was going to take at least six hours, if not seven.

While I am in complete awe if anyone who can run a marathon in a super speedy time, I am also bewildered by the mental fortitude of anyone who keeps their body going for six or seven hours. There was some fallout after the London Marathon when slower runners were seemingly abused despite the event laying on slower pace-setters for the first time. I think the the London Marathon is trying to be very inclusive of slower runners, but anyone who abused those runners should give it a go themselves and appreciate the thousands of pounds they are probably raising for charity. Believe me, ‘just’ walking that distance is no picnic!

In a small way, this happened to me when I ran my first 10km. I was determined to high-five all the kids along the way to try to release some happy endorphins. One kid withdrew his hand from mine while I was having a little walk though and said to me: “You should be running.” Brutal! Even at such a young age, he was judging me and my efforts. You can see why people get hung up about walking.

I listened to a refreshing podcast from Runner’s World (March 2019) just before the London Marathon. Even though I was not doing it, I like listening to people who have done it and the advice they give. One feature was an interview with a professor of sports psychology, Tony Lane, of the University of Wolverhampton, who was trying to give advice on how to overcome hitting ‘the wall’. He was quite animated about the scorn people heap on walking for short spells. It was so refreshing to hear. In fact, he referred to running guru Jeff Galloway who uses a Run-Walk-Run method.

If someone told me I had to run a marathon tomorrow using the Run-Walk-Run, I  would be weirdly fine with it. If they told me,  I would have to run all the way, I would be stress on a toasted loaf! I think I would prefer the Run-Walk-Run method to just walking to be honest.

This blog brings me full circle to the first 10km I ran on May 13th last year. A memory hop popped up on my Facebook feed, where I said: “I am not sure I will do that again!” Since then, I have completed the Kingsbridge 10km and a half marathon.  I walked bits of all three…deal with it!

The reason for starting to run was to run for people who could not. At the time, it was my poorly, since deceased, Dad in hospital, but I could add so many more to the list. I will never be a super fast runner and I am not sure I will go beyond a half marathon, but I am going to try…at my pace.

If you want to sponsor my/our MoonWalk efforts, you still can here: https://moonwalklondon2019.everydayhero.com/uk/caroline-moore. I promise I will not ask for sponsorship for while now…unless I do a marathon!

#slowrunningisstillrunning #runningfordad #walkifyouwant

Date: Sunday, March 17, 2019

Distance: 13.1 miles/21 km – the Palace Half Marathon, Hampton Court

Listened to: About three songs of my prepared playlist, other people’s heavy breathing, cheers from my dear friends and daughters, and John’s encouraging words

Hi there, my name is Caroline Moore and I am a glutton for punishment! Having agonised over doing a 10k back in May last year and running up one hill, a half marathon was not really on the agenda…until Christmas Day.

Kind of a funny story. I decided I would aim for a half marathon in 2019, but having almost paralysed myself with nerves on the start line of the Bristol 10k, I bought a place for myself and for my husband John so he could help me through the dreaded pre-race build-up. It would be something we could at least start together and notch up as a shared experience. I bought us places for the Exeter Great West Run in October thinking that would give me 10 months to train and prepare. I printed out the vouchers, popped them in a card and placed it under the tree.

Another envelope appeared under the tree. This had yesterday’s half marathon vouchers in it. This one has my name on it. 

I opened mine first and nearly choked on my bucks fizz. The original card actually said February as there are two half marathons in Hampton Court, but luckily for me it was the second one. BUT STILL…MARCH!!! Oh, the irony. There was I thinking I was all brave for booking one for October. I just had to get an awful lot braver and fitter!

Hilarity and mild panic aside, I applied myself to the task at hand. I kept running and tried to extend my distances, but aside from a select few, I kept the impending half to myself and swore my nearest and dearest to secrecy.

My thought-process behind the secrecy was not being sure I would make it to the start line. I’m a sucker for an inconvenient cold. In fact, I got one on the weekend of the other Hampton half, so good job we weren’t running that one. I also was not convinced I could do it. I did not want the pressure of sponsorship and good luck messages if all I was going to do was freeze at the start or collapse at the end.

The cat did get out the bag though and I was the one who let it out. I had a little calf injury at the start of the month and I went on a little running loop to test it out week before the half. This run was King Rubbish! I did not have any hills legs, I forgot how to breathe, I was panicking and I pulled up on the flat…I had not done that for more than a year. The calf was fine but my brain was imploding with self doubt. As I angrily walked home, I sent texts to some of friends who knew I was doing it, and one that didn’t, to give me a pep talk.

I had completed a running challenge with Cath (the friend who did not know) and I felt bad for not telling her. I also knew that she specialised in brutal honesty and would not dress anything up. She called me a “secretive minx” and then said: “You will not fail – that’s not in your vocabulary.” Not sure if that’s entirely true, but her comments and those of my other friends convinced me I could get to the start line.

I think the start line starts two weeks before a race for me. I think/worry about running a lot of the time. I dream about it. I wake up thinking about it. I do not sleep so well. Ideal preparation!

I did do some sensible things. Hydrated like a trooper in the two weeks beforehand, tried to eat well and backed off training a bit in a bid to have fresh legs on the day. I also started telling people I was doing it. If I told people I was scared and stopped bottling it all up, then maybe the fear fibres in my legs would disappear. Everyone was so encouraging and seemed to have belief in me; I just needed to prove that belief was well placed.

The one grain of hope was that the Palace Half is a flat course. No Devon hills to try to conquer. I also knew I had trained for it, I would be well fed the night before by my lovely friend Mel, and John would be my side for the excruciating shaky and lonely bit before a race starts.

Getting to the start line on a cold but sunny day was a big deal. Better though, was beginning to run and realising my legs were going to behave themselves. When I started the Bristol race, my legs were leaden. They felt so heavy and I just wanted to stop. This time, the legs behaved for nine miles! With John by my side, I did not panic.

I still do not think I am cut out for races. I do not like running with anyone let alone 3,500 others! I do not really like hearing the heavy breathing of others or the jostling for places. I also get distracted by the sad signs on people’s backs. However, the range of shapes and sizes that runners come in never ceases to amaze me. I am truly in awe of the people who just have the determination to get round and it makes me feel humble for even thinking about being scared.

It was also so lovely to see Mel, her daughter and puppy, and my girls at the two and nine-mile points. My friend Emma also popped up as a surprise at the eight-mile point and ran with us for a while.

After mile nine though (I stopped smiling and waving), I hit a wall. I was done….which was unfortunate as I had four miles to go! Poor John. I was snappy and wobbly. I walked a bit, then I ran, then I put my headphones in, then I pulled them out. I had lost my head. Then as we headed into the last two miles, we entered Home Park. It was muddy underfoot and made my aching left quad and sore right knee protest. I was really done. The walk-cum-run scenario continued,.Again…poor John.

Even with the finish almost in sight and my chief cheerers running at my side, I could barely run anymore. I just held John’s hand and walked a few more metres before we ran over the line together. It makes me feel emotional thinking about it a day after the event, but at the time I had no energy or spare liquid left in my body to muster a tear. I was, however, ecstatic to have made it over the line. I had done it. I was beaming from ear to ear. The pains and mental torment of just a few minutes before were gone in a nanosecond as I collected my medal and hugged my crew.

As soon as we finished, we both said we did not want to do the Exeter race in October…but even less than 24 hours later, I am not convinced, despite the awful stomach ache I endured in the aftermath and evening. I would still like to run a good half and not hit the wall. I also think John should be allowed to run at his pace, rather than snailing around with me!

I think I need to be fitter and experience more long runs. I need to consider what water I drink and if I need to take on gels. There is so much science that goes into running, but my brain isn’t ready for all that. It will be just something else I will have to obsess over and worry about!

For those of you who have read my early blogs, you will know I began running regularly in 2018 to honour my Dad who was very unwell with vascular dementia. He could barely walk at the time so I started running and training for a race. The reason for carrying on with this blog despite running the 10k I was aiming for and Dad now no longer with us, is that I think it is important for the average runners to tell their story.

I have read a few running books and very few of them are about being slow runners that are full of self doubt. Yet, I know there are plenty of slow runners out there who just keep putting one foot in front of the one and still achieve great things. To me, facing a race knowing you are are going to finish two to two-and-a-half hours behind the winner takes more mental fortitude that being a champion. That takes epic strength from within.

Cath may have been right. I knew I would finish even if I had to limp in. I recorded a time of 02:24:04 (my chip time) and came 126th out of 238 women runners aged between 45 and 50. I enjoyed the first nine miles. I have a memory that I can share forever with John (thank you my love). I made my girls proud of me. I am proud of myself for doing something I never thought I would do.

#runningfordad #slowrunningisstillrunning #slowchick

PS. Thanks for all the well done message I have received on social media and in person. You are all lovely.

Date: Saturday, February 23, 2019

Distance: 6.08 miles/9.79 km 

Listened to: Pink playlist 

It’s finally done! After running consistently for just over a year, I have finally run up Cattery Hill without stopping or walking. For the non locals among you, this nemesis is a stretch of nearly a mile that goes past a cattery and up to a crossroads on a brow of a hill. It is a ‘joyful’ part of the Kingsbridge 10k and a hill I have only partially run before. It was one of my goals this year and I have finally done it.

This achievement – and believe me, I am taking it as one – comes at a good time. I have had a week off exercise having battled with a cold all week and when I don’t train, all the demons and self doubt creeps back in. Stupid things; things I cannot control, but they still nibble at my confidence…especially when I do not exercise, especially when I do not run.

I have been reading about running since Christmas as I was bought a few running books ranging from Jo Pavey’s autobiography This Mum Runs to Bella Mackie’s Jog On and latterly Run Like A Girl: How Strong Women Make Happy Lives by Mina Samuels. They all look at running in a different ways and how it generally brings them a sense of joy and achievement. Samuels, and some of the runners she interviewed, advocate visualising what you want to achievement. In her case, it’s marathons or triathalons, but it can be used for less lofty goals and I gave it a go on Cattery today…well, for about five shuffle-strides!

One of the first questions I always ask runners is: “How do you tackle hills?” hoping to unlock some magic means of easing up steeper gradients. Everyone’s answers are different. Some attack them at a faster pace, some run flat-footed, some run them on their toes, some hobble at near walking pace, some use all of these. One of my friends follows the heels of anyone who is in front of her or imagines she is being towed up the hill by a lead around her waist. I have tried the latter one; it’s quite effective. Feel free to let me know what your techniques are.

Last weekend, I went running with my friend Emma, who is doing the London Marathon this year for the first time to raise money for dementia charities. Her mum has early onset dementia. I think she is an incredible runner. She ran a supposed easy 6 miles with me the day after running  15 miles up all the hills from Kingsbridge to Salcombe and back followed by a four-mile coastal walk. Her technique for getting up a hill is to imagine her dear dad at the top of them. He suffered from diabetes and died several years ago. That shows strength. I am not ready to think about my Dad at the top of the hill. I know he will not be there when I get to the top. Emma though has dug deep, mentally and physically, and is nailing those hills on a regular basis. I am in awe of her.

I almost did not do today’s run. I still feel very under the weather and I wasn’t feeling very positive. When I started out, I just thought I would do a few miles. I certainly was not seriously thinking about Cattery. As I got to the bottom, I just put my head down. I was on my own. No-one to try to keep pace with. I tried not to think about the fact I was running. I thought about how chuffed I would be if I could do even just reach the cattery. Then I thought about how really chuffed I would be if I could make it to the top of the hill. I listened to my music to block out my ragged breathing, I fleetingly thought of my Dad…but then got too emotional so thought about anything and everything else! I did it.

I am super pleased with myself. I was very slow but I did not stop. I did pause a few times on the rest of the run though to take some photos. It was such a beautiful spring day.

Lastly, with Cattery under my belt, I think I can now think of myself a runner. Finally.

#runningfordad #catterynailed #dementiarevolution

Since the euphoria of reaching 10 miles at the end of 2018, I have had an on-off relationship with running. (Relationship with running…what is wrong with me?!) Thinking I could take this running malarkey in my stride, I hit a wall…well a hill, well a few hills.

It had been a few weeks since the 10-miler and I went for a lollop in the winter sun. It was unbelievably hard. The hills I had determinedly crept up in 2018, were not playing ball in 2019. I had lost my hill legs. I just could not get them to go. I came home feeling really dejected.

The only thing that had changed was going back to Body Pump…and eating less Quality Street post Christmas. Body Pump is brutal but I love it in weird, sick way. I do not go heavy on the weights, preferring to get through all the reps with good form. My instructor Leanne is also really inspiring and manages to mix up her own running goals with strength training. I did not want to have to give up pump to be able to run. Surely, being stronger will make me a better runner?

Leanne told me I was over thinking it. (Us Moores are terrible over-analysers!) She told me to build in some recovery sessions, rest and think about nutrition. Sensible advice.

I do rest though. My job is one long rest! My brain may be thinking at warp speed with my fingers stabbing furiously at a keyboard as my shoulders try to connect with my ears…but that’s it! My step count at work, whether I am in the office or at home, is so low, it really gets on my nerves. I think it is part of my trouble. I am either sat at my desk or runnning/Zumba-ing/Body Pump-ing. There is rarely anything in between. No walks to school for me anymore. Very few casual strolls. It’s all or nothing!

While I was musing about my rubbish hill legs, I was also contending with a few other side-effects of running. It seems the sweat I generously donate from my pores gives me eczema around my eyes and mouth to make my crow’s feet and other lined bits even more furrowed. I have also developed dandruff that looks like full-on cradle cap on my hairline, mostly notably at the back of my neck. So while I am trying to improve my fitness and strength, my skin is sticking two fingers up to my efforts.

I also suspect I may be pre-menopausal, which has made me feel fragile and weaker than the person I was when I was pre-pre-menopausal. Night sweats and forgetfulness (which is terrifying when your Dad died of dementia) are among the joyful symptoms. The irony is that I am probably the fittest I have been just as my body wants to start storing a little more fat and refusing to build muscle.

Despite all this nonsense, I am using Head & Shoulders, have invested in Diprobase ointment to slather onto my dry face, bought some attractive headbands and just plodded on with a short run (between four and six miles) on a Tuesday, Zumba on a Wednesday,  a longer run attempt on a Saturday (anything above six miles) and Body Pump on a Sunday.

Last Sunday’s Body Pump felt better in that I could walk the next day, but I skipped an outdoor run on Tuesday as the weather was foul. I managed three miles on the treadmill in the gym before it all got too sweaty and boring.

Yesterday though, we tried a new route. My husband John drove us to Drake’s Trail in Plympton. We ran up it while our youngest daughter cycled. It’s uphill for five miles and then downhill on the way back, including a tunnel both ways. My hill legs were back! I could plod to the top without wanting to cry. Once at the top, I went a little further into the village of Clearbrook to appreciate the view from the top with the snowy Dartmoor tors in the distance. Then the descent. The last mile-and-a-half was a slog though as my calf and knee began to protest, but I made it. I ran my furthest ever distance of 11 miles.

In a blink of an eye, I decided I liked running again. #ficklefickle

What have I learned?

• Rubbish runs make you appreciate the good ones (wise words from my ever-patient husband – thank you x)
• A rubbish run does not mean a good one isn’t round the corner
• You don’t have to just run to be a runner (still coming to Body Pump Leanne!)
• A change of scene/route makes a refreshing change
• I should try to do a few walks in between desk or exercise days
• I should stop over-analysing everything (fat chance!)

Despite the crustiness and sweat…I am still #runningfordad

Date: Monday, December 31, 2018

Distance: 10.27 miles/16.52 km 

Listened to: My old running playlist from a million years ago when I was trying to reach 5 km (AKA older angry, break-up music!)

I have been running for a year. I signed up for the Bristol 10 km in January and appear to have been ever running since.

At the start of 2018, I was fearful I would not make the distance of the race. Now, 10 km is an average run for me and most of the ‘hills’ I dreaded, I can manage in my own hobblesome (made up word) way. In truth, they are more inclines, but back in January, they were solid, terrifying hills and I am chuffed I can get up them now. There are still a few outstanding hills on my radar – the local readers among you will know the ones –  but they are something to aim for in 2019.

December saw me return to the Race At Your Pace 50-mile challenge to get me back out there after a three-week absence in November…and because the medal was really pretty. I have always been a magpie for something shiny and glittery! The 50 miles were banked by December 27, but I had one more challenge to go.

For some reason, I wanted to nail 10 miles by the end of 2018. No real reason apart from the fact it’s a nice round number and it takes me into double figures. I have no idea where I am going with this running malarkey but feel extending my distance is the next step because I am not sure I can run any faster.

I did the dreaded Eastbourne seafront run with my long-time buddy Matt (below) a few weekends ago, before scattering my Dad’s ashes on the golf course he loved so much. The last time I did this run was the day after his funeral and it was, unsurprisingly, a disaster. It was a low point that had to be rectified.

I think Matt and my husband had colluded to try and get me to run 10 km in under a hour but the pace was just a little too much for me…especially when I was trying to talk at the same time! I am very content trundling along at 6+-min kilometres. I was happy with the run. It hadn’t beaten me this time. And there is plenty of time to nail the hour-mark another day.

 

People do not seem to believe me when I say I am a slow runner, but I am and I am cool with that. My average time per mile today was 11 minutes and 15 seconds with two hill walks nestled in there. Pretty slow…but pretty cool that I got to 10 miles. I also did it on the back of my first session back to Body Pump in two months so the DOMS were setting in before I even left the house. Following the run, I am not sure I will be able to get up from my chair after writing this! My wise Canadian cousin Emma advised me to walk down the stairs backwards. I am all over that!

This year has been a tough one for a few reasons with Dad’s dementia and death smack bang in the middle of it, but running has given me an escape route and something to be proud of. The two 10 km races, the hills I now consider inclines, the monthly challenges, today’s 10-miler, running with friends, etc. have made me feel better about myself and more resilient to sadness.

I have a few goals for 2019, which I will no doubt bore you with, but even if I do not attain them, I will still be moving, will still be out in the fresh air and will still be honouring my dear old Dad.

If you are thinking about taking on a challenge for 2019, then I wholeheartedly urge you to do it. You do not have to be in mourning like I was or training for a marathon or an Iron Man like almost everyone I know! A challenge is a personal one. It might be walking to school with the kids every day rather than driving the car or committing to one exercise class a week or doing yoga at home. Getting a fitness tracker watch made a lot of difference to me as it revealed that on days when I do not do any exercise, I can do less than 1,500 steps a day, which is shocking. That’s the nature of my job desk-based job though so I have to make the effort outside of work. We all have our triggers for activity; find yours. If you move more in 2019 then you did in 2018, than that’s amazing.

Happy New Year!

#runningfordad #slowrunningisstillrunning #slowchick #boom10miles

Date: Sunday, December 9, 2018

Distance: 5.40 miles/8.69 km 

Listened to: Bristol 10 km playlist…again!

In case you think I had dropped off the face off the earth since my last post…I am still alive! However, I have been laid low with a virus. As soon as I stopped  running regularly, the sore throat and cough got me followed by two weeks of just feeling weak.

The end of the three weeks coincided with me watching the film, Les Miserables, which was not good on the dying dad front! I did not think that one through! The blend of Hugh Jackman’s dying lament, three weeks of feeling rubbish and a lack of the happy dust that gets released when you exercise meant the tears ran freely and the grief came back with a vengeance.

Even before that rather miserable moment, I had been feeling twitchy. I am not a patient poorly person but, worse, I really struggled with not exercising. More specifically, I missed running!

What has happened to me? Who is this weird person I have become?

I missed plodding along the lanes with my music, podcast or thoughts for company. I missed the challenge of making my body move. I missed breathing in the fresh air and taking in the views. Running is so much more than running.

Then I started panicking that I would not be able to run again after a three-week lay-off.

I returned to the treadmill last Monday and sweated out three slow miles, and then again on the Friday, before heading outside on Sunday. Circumstances meant I ended up tackling a challenge that had been on my to-do list by running/walking the peaks and troughs of the old road from Kingsbridge to Salcombe. It was 5.4 miles from my door to my Mum’s, including a slight detour down a farm track, but I could still run and it felt good.

It also marked the first time I had run outside in December. I had always been put off by shuffling along in the colder months because of my asthma but it was actually mild enough not to be a problem. The issue is the shorter days. It is hard to find a time to run in the light when you have work, children, etc. to juggle.

However I fit running in, I know I need to. I think I am supposed to keep running. I have even lost a toenail from running. That must be a sign!

I have come challenges I want to conquer too.

Until then, I need to get through scattering my Dad’s ashes before the year is out. I think a run may be in order to mark the occasion and to bring this year full circle. He inspired me to take running seriously so the least I can do is to keep going when he can’t.

#runningfordad #slowrunningisstillrunning #kingsbridge2salcombe