Brighton Brookes 10K - real women drink pints, eat cake and run a lot

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.

So that was Easter

The kids are back at school. Easter came...

... and Easter went. Much like the beautiful pink blossom that screamed Spring is Here...

... all that is left is a little mess to clear up.

I had set myself a challenge to complete 40 minutes of the torturous planking exercise throughout the 40 days of Lent. Despite missing some days out completely and leaving myself with three minutes worth to do on the final day, I met my target. If you ever find yourself complaining that time is passing too quickly, put yourself into the plank position and hold it for a minute. Never have sixty seconds passed so laboriously slowly.

The planking challenge was part of my One Small Change for March, to improve my core strength. From a vanity point of view, I can't say I've really noticed much difference. My wobbly bits still bulge over the waistband of my jeans making me reluctant to abandon the baggy jumpers in favour of more weather appropriate attire. However, beneath the wobbly bit, if you should happen to prod, there are definitely abs waiting to reveal themselves should I lay off the chocolate, cake and beer long enough to give them half a chance. And I feel fitter - which has become a far greater incentive for me than chasing the perfect bikini body (a losing battle at my age I fear!).

My One Small Change for April has been to run more with my husband. This has never been very easy because one of us usually has to stay and look after the children while the other wears the high vis lycra and takes to the streets. With two of my daughters back home for the easter holidays from their places of education, it has been easier. We took advantage of the babysitting availability and put in a fair few miles together. And I loved it.

I used to feel a little bit anxious about running with my husband, He runs faster than I do and I worried that I'd hold him back or that I'd do myself a mischief trying to keep up with him. It hasn't turned out like that at all. By some happy coincidence, my 5K pace is not far off his 10K pace and my 10K pace is the sort of pace that he can just keep going and run marathons. We train together but with a different focus. He has inspired me to run a little faster which is reflected in a new Personal Best and slowing him down has made him less prone to injury. We have run some beautiful routes together in the sort of weather that makes you happy to be alive. It has been a wonderful shared experience.

One time, we ran together around Preston park in Brighton where he ran as a boy. It included a lap of the Preston Park Velodrome, the oldest cycle track in the country. It was especially nostalgic for my husband but it was lovely to be part of a new memory we were making. We have plans for lots more running in the south coast when we go on visits to see my father in law.

I never imagined that running would become such an important part of my life. As we were running in Brighton I did remark to my husband that it just was the equivalent of a nice stroll around the park for people who don't have much time. We certainly fall into that category of people. I hesitate to say that there is not enough time to do all the thing I want to do because to follow my own  advice, I would have to get myself into that plank position and hold it for sixty seconds. And to be honest, I've had enough of that for the time being!

Our Color Transformation

Last weekend, my husband and I joined 6000 other people in pure white Tshirts to take part in a Color Run event in Brighton. The basic idea of the event is to run a 5K course and have paint thrown at you. The more serious side is that it is in partnership with the Stand Up to Cancer Charity - a cause close to my heart since losing my sister to cancer 18years ago.

We started the morning with a cup of coffee (and a big hug) at my father-in-law's house, then headed down to the seafront. 

My husband knows Brighton well having grown up there and his dad had some advice about the route to take and where to park. We arrived in good time and joined in the warm up. Any melancholy that had been affecting me thinking about my sister and the more recent tragedy in the family was relieved by the sight of my husband trying to master the zumba style exercise routine. 

There was a wonderful party atmosphere and it was an amazing feeling to be running with such a huge group of people. The real fun started when we reached the first Color station. There were four Color stations along the course. At each, a different vibrantly hued powdered Color was liberally sprinkled, squirted, thrown and generally 'applied' in explosive plumes. It was a glorious sight. And messy. Very colourfully messy!

It was the easiest 5K I've ever run. We stopped for photographs along the way. Everything slowed down at the Color stations. There was a huge amount of joviality and the camaraderie of sharing a common experience. I loved it.

Our Color Transformation was all over too quickly but the party went on as finishers were given sachets of the Color to create their own chaotic rainbow clouds.

I will definitely be back again next year to do it all over again.

See Brighton and Hove Albion play at home - Fifty things..

Kicking off our Fifty things to do before we're Fifty is 'See Brighton Hove Albion Play at Home' in their £120 million shiny new Amex Stadium.

I am not going to pretend to be a big football fan. I once had a curious infatuation with a Bristol City goal keeper, John Shaw, which lead to me going to see a match between City and Bristol Rovers many, many years ago ... and I get carried along with the excitement of important England matches. But that is about it. The interest ends there.

Going to see Brighton play at home made it onto our list because of my husband who does love football and has always had a strong interest in the Brighton team being Brighton born and bred himself.

If you are to be taken to see a football match as a non-supporter, this was definitely the way to do it. We were guests of the Directors in the Boardroom enjoying full hospitality thanks to the generosity of a Charlton Athletic director my husband had been working with on a 'Sport in Education' research project. Martin Perry, the Executive Director of Brighton & Hove Albion, was a wonderful host - welcoming, amusing and clearly very proud of the stadium that he had built and the team that call it home.

White chocolate pyramid mousse dessert - my kind of hospitality.

Being guests of the directors meant that we had a dress code that I would not normally associate with football. Men were suited and ladies were expected to dress smartly too - strictly no jeans. I wore my standard, sophisticated little black dress and bought a gorgeous new grey flecked chunky knit wrap-around cardigan to wear over it to keep me warm when we ventured outside the Boardroom for the match itself. This was a naive mistake. Pale woolly flecks shed and deposited themselves all over my black dress. Total wardrobe malfunction. On top of this I felt rather self conscious about two items of underwear I had chosen with body sculpting technology. They seemed to be in competition with each other to push the flab in conflicting directions. One day I'll get it right but for now I feel I have a lot to learn about dressing to impress.

The match itself was a disappointing 0-0 draw but it didn't detract from the pleasure and the excitement of the near misses in the 90th minute as Brighton attacked Charlton Athletic's goal.

Although it was very cold watching the match (even with my problematic chunky knit and the loan of an Albion fleecy blanket) I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The roar of the crowd, the accuracy of passing, the bursts of speed when possession of the ball was won - these were all thrilling.  Less thrilling was when play was a bit messy and difficult to follow. During these times I found my attention wandering. The way the sky changed from summer blue to inky black, the warm ups and stretches of the subs waiting for their chance of action on the pitch, the rituals of goal keepers left alone in the empty half of the field - all these things kept me entertained.

I'm sure my experience of the occasion was quite different from my husband's who was like an excited child. We bought him a team hat with the seagull logo as a souvenir.

I was very grateful for the loan of the hat on the cold journey back to our hotel.

***

On the back of the exciting 90th minute, I put a pound each way bet on a horse called Ninetieth Minute in today's Grand National. With odds of 100-1, I stood to make a great return on my small investment. I had already decided how I would spend my winnings.

Ninetieth Minute was pulled up on Fence 11 :(

A Perfectly Lovely Few Days

One of the best things about having a busy schedule is taking a moment to look back at everything you have achieved and realising that if you can do all that in a few days, the possibilities for the next few years are limitless. I'm having one of those moments right now with my cup of coffee and keyboard and feeling very optimistic for the rapidly approaching new year.

Last Friday was my little Addy's school Winter Fayre. I had volunteered to run a 'Decorate a Cake' stall to keep the children entertained as well as making biscuits to serve with mulled wine as an alternative to  the more traditional mince pies on the refreshment stall. I love baking and I particularly love baking on a grand scale, usually for party food or in this case for a fundraiser. I baked four batches of butter biscuits cut in Xmas shapes and then set about the task of embellishing them with icing.

I had just finished decorating Xmas tree biscuits with royal icing (green food colouring producing a disappointingly insipid shade) using an 'outline and flood' technique and topped with a sprinkling of white glitter sugar when the doorbell rang. It was the postman delivering my latest issues of the Cake Decorating part work I subscribe to which included a Xmas Special. It couldn't have been more perfect timing. I used the snowflake cutters providedto emboss discs of ready roll icing to top circular biscuits and did something similar with star shaped ones. Leftover ready roll icing was perfect for transforming snowman shaped biscuits into proper little snowmen. I also had a go at cutting out delicate snowflake shapes using sugar paste. It was fiddly but effective and could well be used again when the time comes to decorate this year's Christmas cake.

I was pleased enough with my biscuits and although transporting them to the school was a bit nerve wracking (a gust of wind blew the cling film right off one tray), the job was done and another box on my to do list could be ticked.

How much money the Winter Fayre raised has not yet been released but I had the feeling that it was not well supported by parents. A lot of effort had been put in to make a successful event but without the people attending to spend their money, it would all be in vain. My 'Decorate a Cake' stall did very little business because there simply wasn't the steady flow of young people I'd hoped for, keen to roll their sleeves up and drizzle icing and sprinkles in imaginative ways. I am not blameless. My own children stayed at home because they were tired by the end of the week and I knew we had an early start the next day to pay a Xmas visit to the grandparents in Brighton.

As I left the Fayre (in a hurry as I still had packing to do), the lovely 'burger van man' gave me a bag full of unsold veggie sausages and burgers to take home. I enjoyed a little snack on my drive home and handed out warm, meaty(ish) goodies to the family on my return. The 'family' numbers were swelled on account of Taylor being home from Uni for the Xmas break. It was a joy to see her looking healthy, happy and confident after completing the milestone of her first term

I always love going to Brighton. It is where my husband grew up so has special meaning for him. It is where my older sister settled and holds many memories for me of her life and death. And it is where my husband's parents live still.

Addy was especially excited about seeing her grandparents and the promise of staying in a hotel.

A four year old's vision of a "ho-tayal"

My mother in law had a terrible health scare recently which resulted in the need for surgery on her heart so it was a wonderful surprise to see her looking fantastically well. Well enough to have gone dancing with her husband and well enough to have made a raspberry trifle for our tea. My mother in law's raspberry trifle is one of my absolutely most favourite things.

The hotel did not disappoint Addy and I thoroughly enjoyed cheering for James Arthur in the X Factor final on the telly from the huge, comfy bed with a pint of beer bought up from the bar.

It would be a shame to go all the way to the south coast and not visit the beach. We wrapped up warm and took the children for a walk along the seafront. It was cold but the sun came out - bracing and glorious. Unfortunately, Addy got a little too adventurous with the breaking waves and as King Canute could have told her, that will never end well. Soggy shoes, socks and trousers removed, she was wrapped in a warm blanket ready for the long journey home.

Borrowing one of Addy's hats and using hubby as a windbreak to keep warm

Hadn't realised I'd dressed Dylan as a mini dad!

Moments before Addy's soaking

The icing on the cake of a perfectly lovely few days was watching James Arthur win X factor 2012, back home in front of a blazing fire.

The Gallery - Week 74 - A Happy Memory

Divorce, as inevitable or ultimately for the best as it might be, is still incredibly hard on the children of the divided family.

My children, especially my oldest daughter, had been through so much with a father who seemed incapable of putting them first, even for a moment, and a paternal grandmother who actually seemed to delight in digging the knife in and twisting it viciously. I never tried to shield them from the reality of the divorce. I felt that the best I could reasonably do would be to reassure them of my love and devotion to them and try to rebuild a strong family unit. I was so impressed by the way they all pulled together and the sacrifices they were prepared to make when our financial future was so uncertain.

When I got together with the man who was destined to become my husband, I wasn't sure what it would mean to my children They were very supportive and happy to see me so happy but would they feel that they would now have to share my time and my love? Would they be resentful or were  their hearts big enough and undamaged enough to let someone else in? As he was living and working in Switzerland at this time I wasn't even sure how our relationship could work in a practical sense and whether he would be up to the challenge of being a father figure to another man's children. I was particularly sensitive to this after their own father had told them that if they could not accept and respect his girlfriend, he wouldn't bother with them.

This man was not a stranger. He was an old friend I had known at University many years before. I showed the children photos of us together. They laughed at my eighties hairstyle and how chubby I was.

They met him briefly when he brought me home from our romantic Paris break, when friendship first blossomed into love. They had some contact on MSN but the first occasion they actually got to spend any time with him was when he booked a short holiday for us all in a Bed and Breakfast in Lancing, near Brighton where his parents live. My girls had no reservations about going on holiday with a man they barely knew. I like to believe it was because they had complete trust in me but it was more likely that the promise that we would be visiting the Dr Who exhibition on Brighton Pier was enough to overcome any objections!

Right from the start it was a wonderfully relaxed holiday that felt very natural. My youngest was won over  immediately by his tireless willingness to play 'thumb wars' with her. The other girls were completely sold when they found out he had bought tickets for us all to see the Rat Pack Show at the Theatre Royal. He took them sailing. We visited his parents who were kind and lovely in the way that you would want grandparents to be.

The slightly eccentric lady running the B&B with her yappy little lapdog, Bijoux, insisted on calling him dad despite our initial attempts to correct her. She couldn't quite get her head round the idea that we were vegetarian so breakfast would consist of her bringing out a huge pan of beans and slopping them on our plates with a bit of toast. It was sitting round that breakfast table with a glorious view of the seagulls on Lancing beach and the waves beyond with our ever attentive host yielding her ladle and asking More beans for dad? that I realised, without any doubt, that we could be a family.

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Flashback Friday - Geoffrey Virgo

I love old photos that connect you strongly to the past and this is one of them.

The boy in the picture is Geoffrey Virgo, my husband's grandfather. He is standing outside the family sweetshop/tobacconist which was located in The Lanes in Brighton. You can just make out the 'Virgo' name of the shop.

I think it is incredible that this boy grew up to father a son who in turn grew up to father a son. That son is now my husband and I am proud that our son has Geoffrey as a middle name.

I also love seeing the familiar brand names - Fry's, Lyon's and Rowntree's. Will they still be with us in another three generations time I wonder?