I don't tend to celebrate Valentines day. The following week is my wedding anniversary so I put my romantic efforts into that occasion instead. My husband did give me red roses and I gave him and the kids red foil wrapped heart shaped chocolates but my greatest Valentines pleasure is buying reduced to clear merchandise in the days following and using them to set the scene for the anniversary celebration.
That didn't happen this year. Immediately after valentines day, I left my husband and my red roses and took the children off for a few days of visiting with my parents. By the time my anniversary weekend came around I had no '75% off' table confetti/ light up ballons/ cuddly toys/ love crackers etc and no plan.
No plan isn't quite true. I had arranged for the little ones to have a weekend sleepover with their big sister to give my husband and I some much needed time together. I thought about how best to spend this precious 'us time'. I considered a stay at a hotel with a spa or a dinner for two at a nice restaurant. In the end, the most important thing was the actual time together so keeping it as simple as possible was probably our best bet. I tidied the house and we bought a few treats for a special home cooked meal. The one thing that we both really wanted to do was to drive out to some beautiful countryside and go for a run.
When we were planning where to go, we made allowances for the fact that it was a bit wet and windy by choosing a forest run. I imagined compacted forest paths sheltered by trees. Arriving at our destination, we realised our mistake. The route we had selected was actually exposed heathland with gorse bushes and steep hills. The drive through the forest to get there had been beautiful and now, here we were in this bleak landscape being battered by wind and rain. Oh well! No point turning back. Off we went!
The weather did ease off a bit and we had wrapped up warm so that wasn't too much of a problem. The hills drained all the energy in our legs but we weren't here to set any speed records so we didn't mind having to stop and walk. The worst part was the mud. So many different kinds of mud. A whole pallette of mud from black through to pale yellowy grey with all shades of brown in between. Sticky mud. Sloshy mud. Deep mud. Vast oceans of mud sucking at our feet with every step. It did cross my mind that we could be in a luxury spa right now having a very different kind of mud treatment. We ran. We trudged. We slipped. We slid. My husband fell over in the mud with fairly amusing consequences. Were we discouraged? No! We were having the best time. We were loving it.
It took us nearly an hour to complete the 5 kilometer circular route - an hour of torturous bliss!
We had a wonderful weekend. My valentines roses even had some life left in them to provide the romantic touch that I'd failed to do with my usual post valentine bargain hunting. The only slight niggle was the state of my mud caked trainers. I feared they would never be the same agaiin. After leaving them drying for a week, I thought that the best way to clean them would be to put them on and go for a little run in the hope that the mud would just fall away.
Today, the sun was shining. I put on my once purple trainers and marvelled at the little dust cloud produced when I tied the laces. I planned the route in my head - out the back gate, across the football pitch to the path that runs around the hockey pitches, through the car park, into the woods, across the meadows onto the footpath that leads back to the road, down the road and back to my house. It was a perfect plan apart from the into the woods and across the meadows part. My trainers are muddier than when I started.
It is the last day of January, which also happens to be the birthday of one of my friends - a very special friend. I am fairly sure that the birthday card I sent him will not have arrived on time, which pretty much sums up what the whole of the month of January has been like. I have never felt on top of things emotionally or physically, I have been unable to sustain much in the way of productivity in either a practical or personal sense and the days have lumped one atop another in a gloomy, suffocating mass of mostly bleurghh-ness (best description I can manage). I think maybe that is just what January is.
This January has also been punctuated by the deaths of David Bowie, Alan Rickman and now Terry Wogan. Although I can never claim to be a fan of Terry Wogan, his presence in my life via his radio show (played in the car by my dad when driving me to school) and the annual Eurovision song contest hosting, is undeniable. It seems as though the fabric of "influential celebrity figures in my life" is being eroded quicker than I can adjust. And I haven't even mentioned Grizzly Adams!
It hasn't all been bad.
There have been some beautiful sunsets and the days are getting noticeably longer.
We enjoyed one almost perfect snowy day (perfect because the snow lasted for one day and was gone)
I have managed to do two parkruns with the time for my second improving by 2 minutes. If only improvement were linear and sustainable, I'd be achieving my goal of a sub 30min 5K well before my next birthday (a birthday that I am very excited about this year on account of plans that involve running and four of my daughters and foam).
There have been plenty of good moments (and although many of them involve being snuggled up in bed under my duvet that does not in any way make them less valid) but overall I am not sad to see the back of this January.
So to finish, a very happy birthday to my special friend, and goodbye January.
My little Addy goes to 'Magic Club' one evening a week at her new school. She loves it. She especially loves it because dad takes her to and from school on the back of our tandem bike, weather permitting. As I watched them ride off together this week, I was reminded that I never published the post I had written about the Tandem Triathlon I took part in with my husband during the summer before we moved. It was a big deal for me so rather than deleting the draft, I have published it here for my benefit more than anything. If you choose to continue reading, be warned, it is a bit of a long one! Alternatively, here is a little video of Addy practising her magic tricks.
Tandem Triathlon
We had a plan, my husband and I - a plan to find a moment of calm amidst the chaos. A weekend somewhere lovely away from the demands of the family and work - time for us - time to recharge and reconnect.
It didn't happen.
We did, however, have a date in the diary to compete in a Tandem Triathlon. For want of a better plan, that was to become the time for us.
We had not trained properly for this event.
My husband was to do the 1K swim. He is a strong swimmer. This was never going to be a problem.
He is also a good cyclist but our trips out on the tandem to see what we could do have been few and far between. We hadn't even come close to attempting the 35km demanded by the triathlon and we were slightly concerned by a problem with the gears that may or may not have been sorted by the local bicycle shop.
The run was my responsiblity. My running training had been virtually non existent but I had completed a 5 mile fun run recently which gave me a bit of confidence. I have NEVER run after a bike ride of any length... let alone a 35km one! I was desperately in need of that confidence having suffered a nasty injury to my right leg in an oversized wellies and slippery deck related incident.
The bruise in its yellow phase!
Competitors were encouraged to dress up and decorate their tandems if they desired. We didn't have time to come up with an elaborate plan. I grabbed the artificial flowers that had been used to decorate my car on my wedding day (I could never quite bring myself to bin them) and hastily taped them to the handlebars. Perfect.
The triathlon took place in picturesque Bishops Castle in South Shropshire - picturesque and hilly. I don't know why but I had the impression that the competitors would be mostly long bearded, dressed in the style of Morris Dancers and possibly smelling slightly of incense. I couldn't have been more wrong. Admittedly there were a few couples who had embraced the dress up element of the competition but there were some serious looking lycra clad athletes too.
We signed in, wrestled the bike off the roof of the car and tried to organise everything we needed for the various stages of the event. It was warm and sunny so plenty of water and suntan lotion were among the necessities.
Before long, it was my husband's time in the water. I watched him for a while before going to the transition area to wait with the tandem. It was a very shallow pool. My 6' 4" husband looked quite ridiculous standing in it waiting for the cue to go. His swimming style did not have his usual effortless grace. This may have been attributed to the fact that his arms must have been scraping the bottom of the pool with each stroke!
It was a beautiful day and it was lovely chatting to the other competitors waiting for their partners to emerge from the pool complex ready for the second discipline. The transition was quite relaxed and then, we were off.
I love being on the back of the tandem. I can't see a great deal and have to have total trust in my husband but that isn't difficult at all. The countryside was whizzing past me and I was smiling at marshalls and other tandems coming back the other way. It was glorious. We were picking up a good head of speed going down the hills and that gave us enough momentum to climb up the hills without too much of a problem.
Then the hill happened.
The hill that went on forever.
The hill that saw our speed drop so slow we were barely moving.
The hill that required every bit of effort we could muster just to stop ourselves from rolling backwards.
But we made it. Somehow, we made it.
The bad news was that we would have to climb that hill again. Not all the way to the top but about three quarters of the way up was the run transition. My leg muscles were screaming. The idea of getting off the bike and running after climbing that hill a second time seemed impossible. On top of that, after the run there would be a further 5km on the tandem to reach the final finish line. I didn't even want to think about it.
So I didn't.
We were on our way again in a landscape that rewarded you with some downhill for the uphill exertions. The sun shone, but not too much. It was wonderful. I was loving it again.
Going up one hill, we were overtaken by a shiny red high performance sports car that made a throaty roar as it accelerated past us. This somehow added to my elation.
Unfortunately, my elation could not last forever. I had been worried about my injured right leg and had maybe been allowing my left leg to take on more of the strain for that reason. My left leg decided it had had enough. My knee started to hurt. My knee continued to hurt. The hurt intensified. I wanted to cry. Our dodgy gears were behaving fine but my knee was a different story.
I thought that if I was able to stretch my leg for a while it might ease the pain. I took my foot out of the toe strap, off the pedal and felt wonderful relief as I straightened my sorry limb. We also felt the disconcerting bumping of the toe strap hitting the road with every revolution of the pedals. Vaguely reminiscent of my husbands awkward swimming style in the shallow pool, we were losing our rhythm and at risk of coming off the bike. Lovely as it was to have relief from the pain, my leg had to go back on the pedal.
I was reassured that the pain had disappeared as soon as I had changed position. It was back now, with a vengeance, but I felt more confident that it was just muscle cramping and I could pedal through it. We free wheeled when we could so I had the chance to stretch it out again and it felt great. Mostly, I put up with the pain and prayed that I wasn't doing any actual damage.
When we got to the hill for the second time, my emotions were all over the place. I had the pleasure of knowing that this part of the bike ride was nearly over, the excitement of knowing that my leg was soon going to be free from the crippling constraint, fear that we still had to make it up the hill somehow and the absolute leap of faith that I would somehow still be able to run.
I could only push up the hill with my one good leg. Three legs pedalling failed to do what four legs had only just managed to do the first time. The bike did literally reach the point that the upward forces were less than the downward forces. We stopped. We walked the bike up the hill and I was hugely gratified that I could in fact walk! Maybe I'd be able to run. The gradient of the hill became slightly flatter at the turn off into the forest for the run transition so I bravely suggested getting back on the bike to ride in with dignity.
I made use of a portaloo. I gagged on a warm, gloopy energy gel. I grabbed a water bottle and I was off. I was running. Slowly, but I was running.
I knew the run was though forest trails which is my favourite kind of running. What I didn't know was that it was through forest trails up a mountain. (Maybe it wasn't exactly a mountain but it was a very big hill). My leg didn't feel too bad but my heart was pounding and I was so hot. I drank sips of water, ran when I felt able and walked (briskly) when I needed to. This was going to be a slow 10K but at least with all this uphill I was guaranteed some downhill where I could hopefully make up some time.
My run/brisk walk strategy degenerated into a slow walk/drag strategy. Even the feeding stations with their generous rations of jelly babies, crisps, biscuits and drinks could not energise me. But I was still standing and slowly making forward progress up the incline that just kept inclining!
Looking rough at the halfway point selfie
Eventually, and not a moment too soon, the gradient flattened out. I had reached the top and saw before me a plateau. A gently undulating meadow plateau. It was what I had been working for and there it was. My slow walk/drag turned into a shuffling jog. I shuffled and I jogged and my heart sang. A short way further and I could see the inevitable downward gradient. All I had to do was let gravity carry me down the hill to the finish. I might even make up a bit of the time I had lost on my ascent. How could I have known that the pain I had felt climbing the hill would be insignificant compared with the pain of coming down?
As soon as the downward gradient became noticeable, my left leg seized up completely. Bearing in mind this happened mid stride and was as shocking as it was painful, I did well not to fall over. With a series of comedy hops to keep upright, I managed to slow myself to a stop and then tentatively tried to take my weight on my left leg. It was having none of it. I was quite scared for two reasons: firstly, had I done some real damage here that I might never recover from and secondly HOW THE HELL WAS I GOING TO GET DOWN THIS BLOODY MOUNTAIN?
The limit to how many swimmers could fit into the pool at any one time meant that the race was organised with staggered start times over a long period of time. There was never much of a sense of competing with anyone other than yourself and the spread of other competitors throughout the entire course meant there was not a great deal of camaraderie or support available. I was pretty much alone up that mountain. Alone and in trouble. All I could do was man up and face the challenge of getting down. I rested. I massaged the offending limb. I eventually braved walking. It was an awkward walk but it sort of worked.
All the way down the mountain I kept thinking how wonderful it would be to be running but was also grateful that I was at least moving in the right direction. I may have looked like an extra from a zombie apocalypse movie, I may have been grimacing, but I was making progress again. Dragging my bad leg painfully behind me, hop limping... I was making progress.
After a long, torturous time, my spirits lifted when I recognised the terrain that I had run through at the start of the ordeal which meant it was nearly over. My mind was taken off my trials when another struggling runner caught up with me and walked with me for a while. We chatted and commiserated with each other and then the finish line came into view. I encouraged him to go for it and do a good finish. As I watched him muster all his energy to pick up pace I decided to take a chance and do the same. The elation of seeing the finish line combined with the brief respite that the company had given me combined to give me super powers when I needed them most. By 'super powers' I do of course only mean coming back from the Walking Dead to the elevated status of Broken Runner... but I was mrunning. I felt amazing. I felt like that shiny red high performance sports car that had overtaken us on the cycle ride. I let out my own throaty roar and it was over. My husband waiting in the transition area was paying no attention. My triumph was mine alone.
We still had the 5km bike ride to the Final Finish before this triathlon over. There was no way that my leg was going to be fit to pedal. Using the tape we'd attached our 'fancy dress' flowers with (resourceful!), my husband fixed the toe strap so it would not hit the road with every revolution and I 'one-legged' cycled the final stretch.
I would love to say that crossing the final finish line was everything I dreamt it would be but I was in far too much pain. We did not stay for the celebrations which included a BBQ and a Ceilidh (which to my shame I had pronounced Sea-Lid anyway). All I wanted was to have a nice hot bath and to rest in the comfort of my own home... which we did.
This was supposed to be 'time for us', my husband and I... time to recharge and connect. My leg may have let me down badly but honestly, it ticked all the other boxes. Would I do it again? Definitely. But next time, I might just do the swim and let him take on the run!
I was about to throw away this scrap of well scribbled on A4 paper when I realised that I had never blogged about my little boy Dylan's birthday and felt a compulsion to do so.
Dylan's birthday could have easily passed by relatively unnoticed this year... lost in the chaos that is my life since it was confirmed that we would be moving away from the home I've loved for ten wonderful years to pastures new. His birthday could have passed by relatively unnoticed were it not for the fact that he had been excitedly counting down the days for a whole month prior to the event.
He made a chart - a birthday countdown chart. He religiously crossed the days off and proudly announced how many more sleeps there were until he was five years old. He called it his 'cross off' chart and on more than one occasion I misheard him and wondered what on earth was the Croissant Chart he was searching for.
It would have been impossible not to treat his birthday with the same excitement he had for it.
Dylan's birthday fell on a Sunday and it just happened to coincide with a date that features in our running diary - a local fun run. The five mile route through beautiful Shropshire countryside can be tackled on foot or by bike and we had plans to take part as a family. My eldest daughter was going to run with me while three of my other daughters took to their wheels with the birthday boy riding 'tag-along' on the back of dad's bike. For my youngest daughter, Addy, this was a big challenge. It is a fairly recent development that she's had the confidence to cycle any sort of distance on roads (albeit quiet country ones) but she was very determined to meet the challenge with the ring of her bell, a favourite teddy in her front basket and a big smile.
I absolutely loved every one of the five miles running (and strategic walking!) with my daughter. It was lovely when the cyclists, who start at the back of the pack behind elite runners and fun runners, overtook us and offered encouragement. I could see that my little family team were all having a good time. I was especially delighted as I approached the finish line (which due to a route change was now a painful uphill slog) to see my triumphant little girl, wearing her finishers medal, running towards me to run the last few metres with me.
Dylan was in a fever pitch of excitement. Both he and Addy jumped on me as I lay on the ground to recover from my exertions. I didn't mind at all! Dylan declared that he was having the Best Birthday in the Universe!
Back home, family and friends celebrated with cake as Dylan ran around the garden in a knight's costume getting up to no good with a giant water soaker gun - both well appreciated birthday presents.
The only one of my offspring not to have taken part in the birthday fun run was 18year old Charis. She had celebrated her last day at boarding school the previous day and my husband and I were there with her to witness her collecting the academic prizes she had been awarded, to enjoy a picnic lunch and see her taking part in a fencing demonstration. I don't know much about fencing but I think she may have just won a well timed point as I took the following snap!
Her evening ended with a lavish Leavers Ball. As much as I would have loved to have seen her swanning around like a princess in the gown and sparkly heels that I had the privilege of buying for her, we left her to it hoping for a glimpse into her world with whatever photographs might appear on social media.
We collected her in the early hours of the morning when the champagne had all been drunk and promises to stay in touch with friends had been made. Pitifully inadequate hours of sleep later, she was off on a training course for a summer holiday job to fund driving lessons and travel plans.
Although much has happened in the two years that Charis has been away at boarding school, the time has passed frighteningly quickly. As I reflect on the crossed off days of Dylan's Croissant Chart I am reminded of this passage of time. No one knows how many blank days lie ahead for them waiting to be filled and crossed off but we do know with certainty that the number is decreasing steadily and unstoppably. It's often not easy but I always want to try to embrace each new day and fill it with good things as best I can because one day, inevitably sooner than I'd like, the Croissant Chart of my life will be nothing more than a well scribbled on scrap of A4 paper that needs to be thrown away.
Today I ran the Market Drayton 10K road race, voted best in the country for three consecutive years by readers of Runners World magazine.
I didn't come last but I know the person who did and she just happens to be the twin sister of my daughter's boyfriend. This remarkable young lady was born with cerebral palsy but has never let it limit her. Inspired by her mother who recently completed the London Marathon, she took on the challenge of running her first 10K. It took her 1 hour and 44 minutes and she was very definitely last but what an achievement. As she crossed the line with her very proud mum, the rest of her family and extended family were waiting with an emotional display of congratulations. If my own body had not been so dehydrated, I would have been crying like a baby to see her euphoria at finishing and the responses of her loved ones. My tear ducts produced only dry tears as I made sobbing noises and struggled to catch my breath. She was presented ceremonially with a very well deserved medal.
The inclusive nature of the event is maybe part of the reason why this race keeps being voted number one. Or maybe it is the party atmosphere, enhanced greatly by the energetic drummer group that made running along the high street an absolute pleasure with the accompanying pacey beat. Then there is the family friendly nature with the children able to take part in fun runs prior to the main race.
This year my two little ones were signed up to take part in the fun runs. Dylan was in the 3-4 year age category running a distance of 100 metres and Addy was in the 5-7 year category covering 200 metres. They were both vey proud of their medals and goody bags presented at the finish. Both are keen to run again.
On the subject of goody bags, the Market Drayton 10K is well supported by local business sponsors and provides an amazing selection of treats for the finishers including a technical T shirt, medal, mars bar, gingerbread man, pork pie, water, yoghurts and a voucher for beer that I am very much looking forward to redeeming. Perhaps another reason why the race is so popular!
My husband was happy to sacrifice his chance of a new Personal Best to run the course with me.
It was tough but I loved it and his encouragement (which included pushing me up a few hills) was definitely what kept me going. We crossed the finish line together.
My time of 1 hour 12 mins was slower than my last year's result but faster than the first year I did it and only actually 6 minutes slower than the time I would have been aiming for if my training had gone according to plan. I am not at all unhappy with that.
I am also very proud of my two eldest daughters who did fantastically well today. I wonder which of us will be aching the most tomorrow!
I recently had a much needed weekend break in London to coincide with the London Marathon. I travelled down by train with two of my daughters and for our entertainment (or as I preferred to call it - enter'train'ment) my eldest daughter, Liberty, had sourced some goal setting life audit activity sheets from pinterest. Daughter Ivy was having none of it, protesting that her life was fine the way it was and settled down with a book. Liberty and I got stuck in.
We had to list five priorities and set three goals to achieve each of them.
My first priority was: to run the Market Drayton 10K without coming last. As I explained in a previous post, coming last is actually a real possibility! I set my goals which included running the three miles home from the school drop off at least once a week.
I have been without a car for some time. My faithful old Galaxy was definitely starting to get a bit cranky and when an unfortunate trip home from Sussex ended up taking 7 hours rather than the usual 3 to 4 because of the traffic, bit cranky was elevated to somewhere between more than a lot cranky and totally had it. Mysister kindly stepped in to transport my kids to and from school each day and on one morning a week (for all of two weeks) I had her drop me off at the school in my lycra and trainers so I could run home. I ran a bit. I walked a bit. I made it home both times without resorting to hitching a lift from a friendly road user. It wasn't too bad but it wasn't too good either. It certainly wasn't enough to give me the confidence to run the six miles of the race I'd signed up to do.
It is too late to worry about it (and the other two running goals I set myself and failed to find the time for) now. The race is tomorrow! I am running it with my husband so my revised strategy to achieve my goal of 'not coming last' is to trip my husband up just before the finish line so at least I can beat him!
My second priority was to start blogging again. Woohoo! Chalk up one victory to me!
My next two priorities were to do with the fact that I will be moving soon - starting a new life in new county. I gave some thought to the people I want to spend some time with here before I go and the sorting out of my belongings so that I only take with me the things I really want or need. So priority number three was all about PARTIES!! and if only the weather would cheer up I would get my big gazebo put up in the garden and launch myself into party planning mode. I have plenty of good party ideas that will actually help with the sorting out part of my plan. More to follow on that (when the sun comes out!) Priority four could not just be a general 'sort things out'. I was already doing that anyway. It had to focus more on the areas I'd been avoiding because I knew they would be difficult. I set my goals and the hardest one of all was to sort out my photographs.
I bought my first SLR camera when I was at University. Over the years I have amassed an insane amount of photographs. Often, when I had my films processed, I would order two copies of each print because it was significantly cheaper than paying for reprints. When I had my children, I would photograph them endlessly. So many similar photos. So many bad photos. So many double copies. Just... so many photos. I have never been any good at organising them. Add to that all the school photography.... and you always buy the biggest pack because it is 'better value for money'.... and again... so many photos.
I have the luxury of a lot of cupboard space in my current house. For the last ten years, my jumbled mess of photographs has caused nobody any trouble behind a closed door, added to whenever it was the school photo time of year. But I could not move it as it was to our new home. It had to be tackled.
It took me two days to sort through them systematically, discarding the over exposed, the under exposed, the blurry ones, the doubles.... and putting the rest into roughly chronological order. I faced memory after memory... most good, some bad. It was emotionally draining.
I am really pleased with the result... a coherent collection of photographs that invites you to dip in and enjoy.
The final part of the process was probably the hardest. What to do with all the discarded images? After a lot of thought, I shredded them. I shredded my own children. It felt very wrong. I have to say that the shredder did transform the photos into a tactile, glistening heap of shreddings. Quite lovely.
Onto my final priority. Back in December, I set myself a New Year Challenge to learn twelve pole dancing moves - one a month for twelve months - in order to put together a routine and finally get the best use of the pole that my husband bought for me years ago. I started off quite well learning to do a reasonable Fireman Spin by watching instructional videos on the internet. Then I had a change of heart. To fit in with my life I needed to fast track my progress. I started having lessons.
Ivy has been coming with me and I am so glad that I got her to come along. She is really loving it and doing really well. We have now both achieved a Level 1 pass and I have already got more than 12 moves to use in my routine (as well as an impressive selection of bruises). My priority isn't really about calling myself a 'pole dancer' but using pole dancing to improve my strength, posture and flexibility and most of all have some fun. I am certainly doing that.
During my absence from the blogosphere, we were treated to the natural wonder that was the solar eclipse. My husband was heading off for a job interview and the kids were at school so I decided to experience the eclipse out in the countryside whilst doing something that has come to be an important part of my life - running. I called it (unimaginatively) my solar eclipse run.
It was glorious.
I love being out in the Shropshire countryside and this day could not have been better. I was thinking a lot about my husband's interview and what it would mean to us as a family if he was offered the job. As well as taking my mind off the inevitable pain and monotony of running, it also made me appreciate the countryside all the more. The new job would mean moving away from this place I loved so I was going to enjoy every hedgerow, every field, every cow, every bird... as if it were the last time. Enjoying all these things against the slightly surreal purplish quality of the light as the moon moved across the sun suited my mood perfectly.
There was a noticeable drop in the temperature and a blurring of the shadows but it didn't go as dark as I remembered from the last eclipse I'd witnessed and the birds never stopped singing like they had before. It felt slightly anti-climatic but I kept running and the moon kept moving across the sky away from the sun and life went on.
That was probably the last time I had a really good run.
The interview went well for my husband. He has been offered a job. We are moving. I have been thrust into a whole new world of busy as we try to prepare for this next part of our journey - a journey that began over ten years ago with a reunion of old friends from which love blossomed.
Putting the romantic stuff back in box marked Do Not Open Unless You are in the Mood for Romantic Stuff, my point is That was the last time I had a really good run because there has been so much going on and so much to do.
Normally, taking a break from running would not be a problem but I am signed up to run a 10K race in my home town of Market Drayton on Sunday and I'm not sure I could even run for a bus at the moment.
This will be my third time running the Market Drayton 10K which has grown over the years into an event to be proud of - voted by Runners World magazine as Best UK 10K for three consecutive years and best UK race over any distance in 2014. We were even on the BBC local news yesterday.
I think I can safely say that there is no chance of beating my own personal best for the course. My husband has offered to run it with me and despite the fact that I know it is going to be tough to complete it without having put in the training to get my fitness and stamina where it needs to be, I am thoroughly looking forwards to it. I will run it with my husband at a nice steady (slow!) pace and am determined to enjoy every kilometre as it winds its way around familiar streets. It will be part of the ritual of saying goodbye to the town that has been a good home for me.
Having been up to London recently to support the wonderful Marathon runners, I feel almost embarrassed to say that the 10K will be a test of my fortitude. Watching the amazing individuals at around the 25 mile mark was quite an experience. A wide spectrum of human emotion was on display as people were pushed to the limit of their endurance. I will be running less than a quarter of the distance but still, to keep going will take a lot of physical and mental effort. I will have to draw on all the motivation I felt as a marathon spectator to continue putting one foot in front of the other until the finish line.
I will run it with my husband because with him at my side I can do almost anything. (I knew I wouldn't be able to keep the lid on the Romantic Box!)
When I decided to abandon New Year's Resolutions in favour of 12 small monthly changes, I had no idea it would work so well or I'd enjoy it so much. This is a round up of the changes:
JanuaryTo sort out and enjoy my haphazard collection of toiletries. I still don't make enough pamper time and I've still barely made a dent in some of those sweet smelling lotions, mousses, butters, scrubs and gels but at least I now have them organised and tempting me to open the lids and dip in rather than gathering dust, unloved and forgotten.
FebruaryGo the Extra Mile. This was a literal extra mile to build my comfortable running distance up from my usual 3 miles and it has been fantastic. I felt a huge sense of achievement when I completed my first Half Marathon in October this year.
MarchPlank 40 minutes for Lent. The planking challenge was tough - really tough - but I did it and proved to myself that anything can be possible if you set your sights on it and put in the effort.
AprilTo run with my husband. I mostly run with my daughters and I love it but running with my husband has now become something of a special time for both of us. Last weekend, we ran our local Xmas 5K fun run together in festive dress and I thoroughly enjoyed myself (especially when redeeming the free beer vouchers we were given at the finish)
Photograph by Duncan Murray
MayThe CHANGE It somehow seemed fitting to include the menopause in my monthly changes! Although my body is ardently hanging onto the last vestiges of fertility, I am still determined to power through and embrace the new challenges of a maturing body.
JuneJust Get on and Do It It is so easy to find a million reasons to not do something. I am getting very much better at ignoring those reasons. It is amazing how much you can achieve if you make the decision to just get on with it.
JulyTry new recipes I am really loving trying new recipes. I have perfected two of my favourite desserts - sticky toffee pudding and chocolate brownies. I have made a Dundee cake for Xmas (all gone already) and discovered a pear crumble cake that satisfies my dad's non-sweet tooth. I even had a go at making lemon curd when I had an unexpected glut of lemons.
AugustForgive myself Sometimes, despite my very best intentions, I fail. This month I failed to implement a change and in doing so, inadvertantly made possibly the biggest and most important change I have made all year - that is to forgive myself when I get things wrong or don't live up to my own expectations.
SeptemberRead More Books The literary part of me has received much enrichment from a whole range of books - trashy novels, classics, modern literature, misery memoirs and even a bit of non fiction. It can be frustrating sometimes if the light is not bright - even with my reading glasses I can struggle to focus on the text. For those occasions, there is always the kindle loaded with the Game of Thrones series - on the embarrassingly large font setting!
OctoberTry Something Different I loved being part of a new initiative in our town - singing in a 'pop-up' choir to co-incide with the first local arts festival - and sharing the experience with my daughters. We are on the look out for more projects to get involved with.
November Pole dancing Many years ago, my husband surprised me with a gift of a pole after I expressed an interest in pole dancing. I think he had visions of being entertained with erotic dancing and would in all likelihood be happy if I simply walked around it in high heels and skimpy lingerie. For me it was more about fitness and strength and connecting with my sensuality. I practised in private and never offered to put on a show for his benefit. I might have been more inclined to treat him to a demonstration if I'd been any good at it! I quickly realised that it is physically challenging, it hurts when you get it wrong (I have had some impressive bruises!) and I am very aware that my face contorts with concentration and the sick feeling I get if I overdo the spinning. I am certainly not the effortlessly graceful dancer I once imagined I might be!
Not one to be put off, I thought it was about time to resurrect my ambition and dedicated my November change to doing just that. I found some instructional videos on YouTube and started again from an absolute beginner's perspective.
I have learned from my running the importance of technique and posture and applied this to the pole. I broke the simplest spin down into tiny steps and worked hard to master it. I also know from my running that if you keep trying, you are bound to improve. I did improve but realised that I am a long way from where I want to be.
Following on from the success of the 2014 monthly changes I decided that my 2015 resolution could be: Learn to Pole Dance - 1 move a month for 12 months. This time next year with 12 moves in the bag, I should be performance ready!
DecemberTo have a simple lovely Christmas For this I am taking inspiration from my 6 year old daughter who wrote a Christmas planning list for me:
I saw somebody recently wearing a pink hoodie that had the slogan "Real women drink pints, eat cake and run a lot"
I honestly believe that "Real Women" come in an infinite variety of guises that may or may not include all or none of the above. However, I am a woman who is proud to drink pints, eats cake and runs a lot.
On Sunday 16th of this month, I ran.
I was one of 3,196 runners that turned up on Brighton seafront at 9.30am to take part in the Brighton Brookes 10K. The weather conditions were perfect - cool, no wind and even the odd golden glow of sunlight breaking through the somewhat ominous black clouds that held onto their watery load until well into the afternoon.
The start of the race was near the pier. Competitors had to run 1.5km out towards the Marina and back with the remaining 7km being out and back in the other direction to finish where you started.
From my position near the rear of the throng, it took 4 minutes to actually cross the starting line which meant that the front runners were on their way back in what felt like no time. It was exciting to see the lead car clearing the way for the elite athletes and the fiercely competitive faces of the contenders for first place. In their wake was the seemingly endless stream of runners, amongst them my husband who shouted his encouragement to me as he passed. I became a part of that stream as I reached the turning point and ran back against the people behind me. It was quite a novelty to see so many people behind me! I am usually plodding along at the back.
I felt really good running. I remember the first 10K I entered and being very nervous about the distance. The psychological boost of having achieved a half marathon is amazing. I know I have 13 miles my legs, so 10K? No problem!
As I passed under the inflatable finish arch and started the second out and back stretch of the course, I could see the Brighton traffic snarled up due to the road closure. There was a little bit of guilt but mostly I felt quite important. This busy road was closed for me (and the 3,195 other runners of course but at that moment I was only thinking of me!)
I took it upon myself to thank the marshals I passed. It helped to punctuate the long stretch of road ahead and it was nice too see their appreciation of the acknowledgment.
When I heard the familiar sound of the lead car, I got myself in a good position to check out the front runners. They were fierce and they were fast and they looked so angry. It was a stark contrast to myself - slow but often unable to contain the grin on my face because I am loving it so much. Their world of running is so completely different to mine.
Hubby was looking good as he passed with a cheery wave for me. It gave me a little boost but it still looked an awfully long way to that second turning point. As is if often the case when I'm running, I start worrying that I'll never make it and then suddenly I'm there. There was a significant psychological advantage to be running back to the finish at last - add to that the slightly downhill nature of the course at this point and I was away!
I was overtaking a few people and running against the flow of people behind me who were now widely spaced out and each fighting their own endurance battles. It felt great.
The pier came in sight. I tried to pick up my pace and maybe managed a fraction of an increase. I had already had a very busy start to the weekend and it was far from over with my father in law waiting for us to visit him and a 5 hour journey still to come. I couldn't find enough energy in my reserves for a fantastic finish and face what we still needed to achieve. I settled for just finishing.
I saw my husband coming back to run the end with me but I wanted to finish on my own. Shouting don't run with me made me lose the rhythm of my breathing and made me feel guilty that I had rejected his support. For the first time in the whole of the race I started to not enjoy myself but the finish arch was so close now that I quickly lost myself in the moment and my legs felt strong as they took the finish line in determined strides.
I was grateful for the banana and the water that were handed to me and collected my medal and a new personal best time for a 10K.
Reunited with my husband, who was not at all put out by my rejection, I watched the remaining runners finish.
In contrast to the half marathon I completed, I did not witness anyone running out of fuel and collapsing. The inflatable finish arch, however, did! It was comical to see the marshals desperately trying to hold the arch up high enough for runners to duck underneath to finish whilst another tried to refill the pump engine with petrol to get it blowing again.
It was a wonderful, well organised, well supported event. The winner finished in an amazing 30 minutes and 41 seconds - about the time it takes me to run half the distance on a good day. I finished with a big smile in position 2,862 with a time of 1hr 06minutes and 30seconds. Not a bad morning's work.
On Sunday, the sun shone and I was at the seaside.
This was no ordinary trip to the seaside though. I was there to support my husband as he took part in his first Sandman Triathlon which started and finished on the beautiful Llanddwyn beach in Anglesey.
My two little ones were with us but once they saw the sand and the water, any thoughts of supporting daddy were quickly forgotten. It made it quite a difficult day for me trying to balance keeping an eye out for two adventurous children having the time of their lives and keeping an eye out for my husband so I could offer the appropriate words of encouragement. A difficult day - but one I was so glad to be a part of.
The first of my many 'difficulties' arose as I tried to walk the children the mile or so to the beach from the caravan where we were staying. It was a beautiful location with views over the Menai Straits and a stunning forest trail down to the beach. The same trail formed part of the 10K route that the triathletes would have to run having finished their 1000m sea swim off Llanddwyn beach and their 60km cycle around the island of Anglesey. The effort it took to drag my reluctant four year old son along the trail would probably have rivalled the effort put in by the athletes chasing personal bests. It was hard work and as a result, we were late getting to the start of the race. The good news was that the start time was delayed. The bad news, even with the delay, we still didn't make it down in time to wish daddy luck.
We were in time to see in the distance, the crowd of yellow swimming capped wetsuited hopefuls (of which I knew daddy was one) run into the sea and begin their arduous battle against waves, currents and fatigue.
My husband is a strong swimmer with a lazy stroke that could never be described as graceful but his long arms pull him through the water with efficiency. He has swum the Dee Mile and between the piers in Brighton. I didn't think the swim would pose too great a problem for him so I was very surprised when I saw him staggering clumsily out of the water looking as though he was in trouble. I found out later that he had been kicked in the face near the start when everyone is jostling for position. As well as being slightly stunned by the blow, the impact had knocked his prescription goggles off his head. Not being able to see properly was disorientating him.
Meanwhile, my son found out what happens when the tide creeps in and you fail to step backwards.
Somehow, my husband made it to his bicycle but clearly wasn't quite recovered form his ordeal as he tried to cycle off in his wetsuit! I would have loved to have been there to witness this but I was having a troublesome time trying to persuade my children to come with me to the transition area. We eventually got there but not in time to even see him riding away up the hill into the distance. We clapped a few of the other participants then went for a picnic that included for me, a very welcome flask of coffee.
The children were happy blowing bubbles, playing sword fighting with inflatables and running around so we stayed near the entrance to the transition area and waited for daddy to cycle in.
He had estimated that the cycle would take him 2 hours and he did it in 2:10:57. I mentioned at the very beginning of this post that the sun shone. This was his undoing. As much as the children and I were enjoying the sunshine, overheating and dehydration are deadly enemies of anyone exerting themselves. My husband ran out of water and began to suffer the consequences. His cheery wave to us as he ran into transition belied how bad he was feeling.
As much as I would have liked to position myself in various strategic locations along the 10K route, I knew it would turn into a nightmare trying to mobilise the children to make it all work so we headed back down to the beach. After a quick paddle myself which was lovely, I left the kids playing in a large pool and made myself a base further up the beach where I could watch for my husband on the last leg of his race.
The kids loved the freedom to play in the water making 'adventure playgrounds' out of rocks for the little fish that swam around them. This left me free to watch drama after drama unfold within sight of the finish line as exhausted runners feared they were not going to make it. I would have loved to have seen the jubilation of the people crossing the finish line, but that would have meant I couldn't keep a watchful eye on my little ones.
I expected my husband to finish in about an hour. I thought I spotted him once and called the children out of the water to come and cheer for daddy. They both looked at me like I was an idiot and said No Thanks! It turned out to be a false alarm anyway so I watched and waited... and waited. I was starting to get really worried but eventually, I spotted him in the distance. As he ran past me I took a photo, told him enthusiastically that he was wonderful and he was nearly there. I watched him run away from me toward the finish line and his own personal (somewhat overdue by now!) victory.
My camera was not zoomed in. I really was this close to him yet he neither saw me nor heard those words of encouragement that I had waited so long to give.
I persuaded the children to leave the water to come with me and find daddy. We found him. I have never seen him look so utterly exhausted. It had taken him 1 hour and 27 minutes to complete the 10K. He never really recovered from the dehydration he suffered on the bike leg of the race and had walked much of the route as an alternative to just giving up.
I have so much admiration to each and every one of the determined men and women who took part, from the awe inspiring winner who clocked up a time of less than two and a half hours to the last man over the line in 451st place in just over 5 hours.
My husband finished in 421st place with a time of 4 hours 09 minutes and 18 seconds. He is absolutely my hero.
This weekend I went to visit my friend Rose in her new home in a village on the outskirts of Swindon. While we were there, my husband and I decided it would be a nice idea to do the Swindon parkrun. We set off to the venue at Lydiard Park without much of an idea what it would be like and with an added wildcard in the form of our two children aged 6 and 4 years who we hoped we might encourage to run at least part of the way.
I should probably mention that due to a packing oversight, our plans were nearly scuppered. I had failed to put my shorts in the overnight bag. I don't know if gratitude or embarrassment dominated my emotions when my friend's lovely husband let me borrow a pair of his and they fit perfectly!
The park was beautiful and it was obvious that the parkrun itself was much bigger than we were used to. Over four hundred runners congregated at the start.
The route consisted of two laps and the plan was that my husband would race off as fast as he could leaving me to cajole the children into taking part with whatever bribes I had at my disposal. We would cover as much ground as possible and when my husband finished in as close to 25minutes as he could manage, he would come back for the kids whilst I ran for all I was worth in the hope of at least finishing somewhere around the 40 minute mark. We had looked at previous results for this parkrun and it seemed that there were a number of participants who took a similar amount of time to complete it. I would not be alone.
The children were very keen to run at first but waiting around for the race to start got them a bit agitated. Then when daddy took his place in the crowd with the other 25 minute pace runners leaving us at the back, they were grumpy and agitated. No amount of encouragement or persuasion could get them back on side.
Reluctantly they came with me as the crowd edged forwards to cross the start line. It was wonderful watching all those people with a common purpose running off into the distant, giving their best. I longed to be amongst them but I was being held firmly back by two little monsters dragging their feet and continuing to moan that they wanted daddy.
I had to accept that they were not going to be obliging. They were not going to run and that was that. I settled for a slow walk. They would happily run off the path to explore but I could not get them to channel that energy into a faster walk in the direction I wanted them to go.
I did consider giving up and turning back and waiting for my husband to finish his race in one of the play areas but we'd started, so we plodded onwards. There was always the slim chance that they'd decide it might be fun to run.
Far from a having a change of heart that incorporated more speed, my little boy dug his heels in, started to cry and said I'm not growed up enuff for runnin'. At this point, I picked the poor little soul up and carried him on my back. My daughter had the occasional burst of speed in between moaning and my son whooped with delight and waved his little legs around as I struggled to run with him on my back to keep up with her. I was beginning to wish that the borrowed shorts had not fitted and I'd had to back out.
The marshals were lovely. I think they must have felt my pain and were very encouraging.
Before long, we were being lapped by the elite athletes chasing their sub 20 minute finish times. The paths were very narrrow so I now had the added difficulty of trying to keep my daughter tucked into the lefthand side whilst the herds of lean, determined runners thundered past us. It was inspiring to see them racing by but nerve wracking too. I feared that my daughter might stray from her position of safety into the path of one of these unstoppables. The momentum of even a glancing collision would have been enough to send her flying in a tangle of long blonde hair and longer skinny legs. Thankfully, this did not happen and the pace of the runners lapping us was becoming noticeably more sedate as time went by.
I don't know how much distance we had covered when my husband on his second lap caught up with us on our first (he suggested about 2 kilometres). I urged him to continue to the finish but he could see how much I was struggling under the weight of our son and he admitted to having a twinge of pain in his leg that he didn't want to risk aggravating as he was due to take part in a triathlon the following weekend. He took over babysitting duty and gave me the freedom to run.
If his estimate of distance was correct, he only had about 1 kilometre to go before the finish. Having been on target for a 25/26 minute time, he finally made it across the line in 35 minutes. Meanwhile, I was running like a woman with a mission.
Photograph by Martyn Joyce
To begin with, I had the company of the runners on their second lap hoping to achieve times not much faster than my own personal best. I felt quite comfortable running with them but then we reached the parting of the ways. As they all took the left turn to the final push before home, I took the right and started my second lap. Rather than feeling disheartened (or tempted to to slip home unnoticed with the left turners) I had the hugely motivating sight ahead of me of the back runners - two ladies I had noticed earlier both wearing bright red T shirts and following a minute walk/ minute run plan. I knew I could catch them up and I did. I overtook them and locked my sights on the next person ahead of me.
I have been working on my downhill technique - letting myself go with gravity doing the hardwork rather than waving my arms and trying to pull the brakes on to feel in control. Coming up was a downhill stretch followed by an ascent. I overtook the next group of people on the downhill which felt quite liberating and easily passed the people who were walking up the hill.
I think some of these people must have wondered where on earth I had come from. I was certainly shaking things up at the back. I did nod and say good morning as I passed but I really wanted to tell them how much I admired them, how fantastically they were doing. These people were not great runners, yet here they were taking on this 3 mile course at their own pace and achieving their own personal goals. It is SO hard to say well done without sounding patronising.
It felt like no time before I was back at the fork to turn left for home. I didn't quite manage to catch up with a tiny little lad who had been riding on his dad's shoulders when he first came into my field of vision and was now running like the wind towards the finish line under his own steam. It was wonderful to see him go and it reminded me of my own two little ones who were now no doubt having a great time in the play area with memories of their own half hearted efforts fading into oblivion.
I finished in position 430 out of 449 in a time of 42:01. Hopefully, the next time I visit my friend Rose, I'll get another try, without the handicap of a first lap with two stubbornly reluctant children.
I love being part of the parkrun community and would definitely recommend it to anyone.
When I embarked on a beginners course at my local Running Club a couple of years ago, I could never have dreamt that one day I would be signing up for a 7mile multi terrain cross country race. In a moment of optimism or madness, that is exactly what I did. The race was organised by the Irish Regiment stationed at our town's barracks and was part of an initiative to promote community relations.
My daughter Liberty signed up also along with her boyfriend and my husband.
I can' t say that I did a lot in preparation for the race. I hadn't run as far as 7 miles for quite some time and the day before the race I spent at a beer and music festival enjoying more pints than I should have of the real ales on offer. I wasn't feeling fantastically confident but by the time we arrived at the start, it was too late to worry about it.
Army vehicles and men in uniform set the scene for the race. There were plenty of familiar faces from my running club but I couldn't help feeling a little intimidated by all the incredibly fit army personnel taking part. The British Army Cross Country team were there and of the civilians taking part, I was struggling to spot anyone that looked like they'd be slower than my daughter and I.
As my husband and Liberty's boyfriend found their strategic position for the start of the race, Liberty and I stood well back and watched as the field opened out before us. We crossed the start line at the back and didn't expect to be doing any overtaking.
Resigning myself to the fact that we were almost certainly going to finish last was quite liberating. Someone has to be last and today it was going to be us. I was determined to finish and enjoy myself. I am a slighty faster runner than my daughter but we made a promise to each other that we would do this together. We would help each other. There was no way I was going to leave her behind. I had a not unrealistic concern that with my slight hangover from the ales, she could be leaving me behind.
We ran the first couple of miles keeping the other runners in sight but then the course started to take twists and turns through fields and woods that made us feel quite alone. The race was marshalled by smart young men in military attire who were incredibly supportive and generous with smiles and words of encouragement but there were times when we weren't exactly sure which way to go. It was quite an adventure. I was very glad that I was sharing the adventure with my daughter.
As we dragged ourselves up a steep bank in the woods, I wondered how on earth anyone could actually run up such an incline, especially given how soft and crumbly the surface was underfoot. At the top, there were three well placed trees. I held onto them in turn to manoeuvre myself cautiously over the top of the bank as I planned the equally steep descent. I mostly let myself go and trusted to luck to stay upright. A log at the bottom needed to be jumped over but I surprised myself by timing it just right and coming to rest without injury to body or pride. I turned round to see how my daughter was doing. She was clinging to one of the trees for dear life bemoaning the fact that this was her worst nightmare. To her credit, she took my advice and just went for it. She made it safely to the bottom ready for the next ascent.
I was actually starting to love this rough terrain, skipping down the slopes with a childlike abandon and something of a daft grin on my face. My daughter was less amused by it all but we were making progress.
It would not be fair to write about my daughter's tree hugging incident without mentioning an incident of my own. I was drinking plenty of water to try and counter the hangover symptoms and I had a sneaking suspicion that my bladder was going to start to protest loudly if I did not do something to relieve it before the seven miles were over. Liberty needed to stop to catch her breath and stretch her tightening muscles. We were in a wood. There was a conveniently large tree. I popped behind it for a wee. I did check first to make sure there were no marshalls in sight but mid wee I had a moment of panic imagining sophisticated army surveillance equipment monitoring the activity. The feeling of exposure and vulnerability was not good but the lightness of an empty bladder most definitely was.
We moved swiftly on away from the scene of the crime against modesty.
As we emerged from the woods and began running on more open stretches, we occasionally caught sight of other runners ahead of us. It was lovely to see a friendly splash of our club colour orange running shirts. We weren't too disgracefully behind.
The route was comprised of a two loops joined together by a long straight stretch that included an underpass. You ran round one loop, out through the underpass, round the second loop and back through the underpass to the finish where you started on the first loop. As we were running out towards the second loop, the elite runners were making their way back and towards the finish. How do they make it look so easy? It was a very humbling feeling to be taking part in the event with these amazing athletes and many of them, to our delight, took the time to offer us encouragement. And we certainly needed all the encouragement we could get! We had a long way still to go.
The route was tough. To our tired legs it seemed like never ending hills but eventually, we were running back towards the underpass with the promise of the finish line not too distant. Liberty's boyfriend had completed the race in under an hour and had now come back to run her home. He was using all his best motivational one liners: you're doing great, not far now, dig deep, keep breathing. I think for poor Liberty 'keeping breathing' was proving increasingly difficult.
I was actually feeling pretty good. My bladder felt comfortable (good call having the wee behind the tree despite the embarrasment) and a glucose gel sachet that I had slurped up at about the halfway point was having a positive effect on my energy levels. When my husband (who finished his race in just over an hour) came back to run with me, it didn't feel too different to when we go on our training runs together. We chatted, he told me he was proud of me and we ran ahead. Just behind me I could hear the motivational one liners picking up pace: final push now - the finish line is just around the corner - come on Liberty, push harder. The one liners were picking up pace. Liberty wasn't. Her breathing sounded awful and I thought she might actually be close to tears.
We started the race together, we ran the race together and I was absolutely determined that we were going to finish this race together. I gently pushed my husband out of the way, paused for Liberty to catch up and held out my hand to her. She took my hand and suddenly, the finish line was there in front of us.
I imagined that by now most of the runners and supporters would have dispersed. We would have the satisfaction of crossing the finish line but quietly and unnoticed. Wrong. A huge crowd of army, civilians and competitors were waiting at the finish and cheering us on. I felt a cocktail of emotions welling up and threatening to completely overwhelm me. I looked at Liberty. She looked at me. I held her hand tight and I ran. I think I blurted out some nonsense like we're nearly there as much for me as for her and we made it. To cheers and applause, crossed that finish line - together. Seven gruelling miles in 1 hour and 24 minutes. We'd made it.
I have never been so happy or so proud to come last!
Yesterday evening, I found myself back in the same field where I had enjoyed the Fordfest event two days previously. This time, Fordhall Farm were playing host to my Running Club's party to celebrate five years of affiliation to England Athletics. We were using the same marquee and the same catering from the beer festival. The acoustic stage where my daughter Taylor had played guitar and sang was still in the corner (although now it had a table on it!) bringing the proud memories flooding back. Different memories were ignited by the sight of the beer barrels stacked along the back of the marquee. We were welcome to help ourselves to any leftover ale and despite it being a school night, I would have gladly worked my way along the row of barrels but for the fact that I had driven. Reluctantly, I stuck to coke.
The party started with the choice of a game of rounders or a stroll around one of the picturesque farm trails. I opted for the walk on account of being useless at hitting a ball, too easily distracted to field and fiercely uncompetitive! I am no stranger to the walk but it was a beautiful evening and the setting sun gave it a quite different feel. It was lovely and we arrived back as the rounders game finished and the food was ready.
I am ashamed to admit that when I booked my ticket, I did not order the vegetarian option. I respect the organic farming methods practised by Fordhall and feel there is a certain honesty to visiting the pigs then buying the pork sausages from the shop. When I booked my ticket, the lure of one of their pork baps was enough for me to temporarily park my vegetarian diet off to one side. Had I known that I would also have been eating a pork bap two days previously at the Fordfest, I would most likely have settled happily for a bit of quiche and lettuce. I thoroughly enjoyed my meat indulgence but I do feel this morning as though I am sweating pork through my pores. Too much of a good thing maybe.
After the baps came the Cake.
I had baked some chocolate fudge cake and was really pleased to see that it all got eaten. There was an amazing selection of cake to choose from. I am wondering if there is a correlation between being a runner and making good cakes. I am happy to do further research on this hypothesis. The centrepiece was an amazing cake in the shape of a five to commemorate the five year affiliation and decorated to represent a variety of different races including mud runs. A fondant runner wearing the club's distinctive 'Where's Wally' fancy dress was buried up to their armpits in a chocolatey muddy puddle for a comic touch.
The best part of the evening for me was listening to one of the club members give a talk about his recent travels. Without the aid of a slide show, a script or a power point presentation, this charismatic young man perched on a table in a gloomy tent in a moonlit field and talked honestly and passionately about his solo cycle ride around the coast of Australia. I was captivated by his story (apart from the moment when a huge beetle flew past my head then got tangled in my hair - all I could concentrate on then was GET THIS BEETLE OUT OF MY HAIR!!!)
I will never be a traveller but in the sense that Life is a Journey, we are all travellers. I found the talk hugely inspirational and was surprised by how much his experiences resonated with my own values. The thing that he emphasised repeatedly was that the connections he made with the people he met and the kindness of strangers were more important to him and left a longer lasting impression than any sense of achievement of actually clocking up the miles or seeing the iconic landmarks that tourists flock to photograph.
I think I will remember this young man's words for a long time. I have learned a little more about Australia, a little more about cycling and lot more about how far a little kindness can go.
To round off the evening perfectly, I got to take home a plastic bottle of one of the ales to share with my husband. We had a pint each before bed and saved just enough for me to have a go at making a beef and ale pie for dinner the following day. This time the 'beef' will definitely be 'beef style soya pieces'... but the ale will be real!
