G is for 'Get the Glow!'

Monday 29^th January 

I ran 9 miles this weekend. On purpose! I chose Friday night for my long run because, for once, it wasn’t snowing/ hailing/ blowing a gale and it was fantastic. I ran 5 consecutive 9 minute miles- they weren’t pretty (the baby weight is taking some shifting and I really have to run in the dark these days- lycra + wobbly bottom = traumatised motorists) but they were fun. Obviously I define fun differently to other people.

It was after my shower that I realised I had the glow. Now, it’s been a long time since I had the glow and I feared that it had gone forever but no, there it was. The bright eyes, rosy cheeks and that smug smile that says ‘Ha. You’ll never guess what I just did.’ I swear, even my teeth looked shinier. If L’Oreal could bottle this glow they’d make a fortune- although their adverts would have to change slightly… a little less perfect model and a little more ‘sweating mum on the run’… but hey, it’s a good look.

R is for... Reasons to run

Tonight I ran for the second time this week. Tuesday’s forced hobble through the arctic weather: the gale force wind blowing me into the road and hailstones the size of my fist bouncing off my hat with the holes really inspired me… so tonight I repeated the fun. If Tuesday’s run was that first date- butterflies in your tummy, feeling high on endorphins- then tonight’s was the crash and burn after the break-up. It hurt. A lot.

In fact, it hurt really quickly. I had not gone half a mile when a persistent pain in my heel caused me to stop (in the middle of my favourite song no less) and de-shoe. And there, skulking in the bottom of my trainer, was a piece of lego. And this reminded me exactly why I run.

I run for my kids. There are four of them and, generally, they are lovely. My third child is disabled and will need me to care for her for all of her life… so I need to be strong and fit. A good reason to run I’m sure you’ll agree. I’m also running a half marathon to raise money for an essential piece of tech that will help her to communicate… another great reason. I could go on about empowering my kids, showing them that you have to look after your body, blah, blah, blah but actually I run to get away from them.

It’s true. I haven’t been to the toilet for 16 years without someone following me to ask me what’s for breakfast/ lunch / dinner. I spend every meal time telling my older ones to stop bickering and if I have to pretend to be interested in someone’s dream about Phoebe, Polly and Nancy one more time, I swear I will rip my own ears off.

So what if running hurts. So what if, for the first two miles, I have to force myself to pass every park bench just in case I give in to temptation and take a quick snooze.  Parenting hurts more. And those precious child free moments are worth the pain. So bring it on.

L is for Laaaazy… it’s also for ‘Look at that WEATHER!’

According to my diary, this week I should have run three times for 30 minutes in order to build up to the BIG one, the 3 mile mountain crawl/ hobble/ wince tomorrow. However, dear readers, I’m still at zero miles. And now it’s only 17 weeks until the half marathon. My best friend, who is definitely NOT a runner, logged over 40 miles in walks and runs last week. The shame!

So what happened? Was I abducted by aliens? Did the lycra squeeze my wobbly bits so much that I developed a blood clot (a serious worry)? Did my beautiful ‘hat with the holes’ (for ventilation purposes obviously) disappear? No. It snowed. Not just a little bit of snow, more ‘Quick look out of the window,’ snow. And with snow comes ice. And ice is the runner’s worst enemy.

So, in a bid to be productive in my fund raising, here I sit. In a moment I am going to write to lots of local businesses and ask if they can donate prizes for an auction we are having in the Autumn. Really, I am.

I did manage to achieve something running related this week- by far the most important something actually… I created a playlist on my phone. See, really important. At some point I should really try my lyrca on- but I’m saving that visual treat for a super special occasion, like when it’s Children in Need and I’ve spent the whole night crying anyway so what’s a few more tears.

As always, I digress.

If you learn anything from this post lovely people out there, it’s this- don’t read your diary. Oh, and don’t plan to start your half marathon training in January in the mountains of Yorkshire.

E is for Eighteen weeks... only 18 weeks! (N is for 'Not in virgin territory anymore.')

Picture the scene: it's New Year's Eve. You're tired (because really, who actually wants to stay up until midnight when bed is just SO comfy). You're trying to muster some enthusiasm for your daughter's twenty third 'Just Dance' set of the night and your husband says something along the lines of 'You know we need to raise this money for Georgie's eye gaze machine...' loaded pause, intense stare, 'You could... erm... run...' 

A few things you need to know here: 1) Georgie is our 4 year old disabled daughter. She has Rett Syndrome and is locked in which means that, although she's pretty switched on, she can't talk. 2) An eye-gaze machine- think Stephen Hawking- would enable her to control a speaking machine with her eyes et voila... she could communicate. 3) They cost £10,000. 4) Baby number 4 arrived in May 2017 and I've well and truly fallen off the wagon with the whole fitness/ running thing. Not only did I fall off the wagon, I'm pretty sure it ran over me then left a couple of its tyres around my waist. 

But it's for Georgie. Decision made. 

In 18 weeks time, I will be lacing up my trainers and heading out onto the mean streets of Leeds- and there won't be a shopping bag in sight. Dutifully, I have written a training schedule. I have tried all of my old running clothes on and thanked God that I run in the dark- it's not pretty dear readers. And I have promised to write all about my journey because, frankly, there has to be some silver lining to this seriously grim, constant cloud of rain that hovers about three feet over Haworth. 

There will be tears. There will be tantrums. But most of all lovely people, there will be Cadbury's.