In Memory of Doris

Doris may have worked for you, cared for you, been your family or your friend, whoever she was to you, you will know that all she ever wanted to do was help.

When our youngest son was not much more than a toddler I asked her if she could look after him for me the following afternoon, as usual she said yes. He was delivered and I went to work. Later that day Steve collected him and brought him home.

We asked him if he had had a nice afternoon, oh yes, he said. What had he been doing with Grandma we asked? We went to a big hall. I had cake. I made the sad old ladies laugh, he replied. This had us somewhat puzzled and Steve rang his Mum to find out where they had been.

I was quite cross, actually I was very cross, to discover Doris had taken him to a funeral tea because she had already agreed to help and she thought it would be OK to take Lewis along. I was cross because I didn’t think it at all appropriate to take a three year old to a complete strangers funeral tea. But I was also cross because she hadn’t said no. No she couldn’t help me as she had already made plans. No it would make her afternoon tricky. She just couldn’t say no. She always wanted to help everybody.

I didn’t understand then that Lewis was perfectly all right at the tea and he had actually helped lift the mood of the ‘sad old ladies.’ But I understand now and Doris’s great granddaughter will be with us later to help brighten the ‘sad old ladies’ and ‘sad old men’ and the rest of us!

Because of the dementia, Doris didn’t quite grasp who Sophia is, but she adored her and was always delighted to see her and always wanted to hold her.

Having spent her whole life caring for others the time came for Doris to be cared for. We did our best, we muddled along. We didn’t know the rules. It was hard and it hurt like mad. We questioned every action, every thought.

Thank you Lavender Court, especially in recent weeks, you pulled out all the stops, your care of Doris was second to none.  I am thankful I was able to help Doris, to repay just some of her kindness. We would dance around her room to Daniel O’Donnel and my last happy memory of her was dancing with her at Rob and Vicki’s wedding, we whirled around and around the dance floor, she had a beaming smile on her face the whole time.

Whether Doris worked for you, cared for you, was your family or your friend; you will know that all she ever wanted to do was help.

 And she did.

Disappointed of Taunton

I tried everything.

In my head, I would do it, positive, mental attitude in place.

Chicken stir fry with loads of vegetables, bean sprouts and noodles my meal the evening before and a drop of wine to relax me and make me sleep.

I got up early to give my body plenty of time to wake up and to eat half a banana.

Favourite trainers, best kit.

I arrived early to do a good warm up lap. Nice and gentle, all joints moving well.

Stretching gently, kept moving, positive mind.

Moved nearer to the front of the starting huddle.

It felt like a quicker first lap, managed to stay with Andrea. We kept Gill in our sight.

Breathing under control.

Felt good.

Felt quick.

Sprint finished.

Missed it by 12 seconds.

A whole twelve seconds.

Gutted.

Silver Threads

There is a silver thread from the top of my head pulling upwards. It keeps my eyes on the horizon or looking at the birds in the tree tops or counting the chimney pots atop the roof tops. Look ahead, keep your eyes on where you're going. Pick the points of where your feet will soon be treading. Farm steads, lone trees, bends in the road. Keep the silver thread taught, don't let those eyes drop to the floor I don't want to fall anymore. Enjoy the view, make it to the top of the hill and survey the scenery laid out below,  the patchwork of the countryside. Follow the lane down alongside the lush golden fields, soon they will be scalped and ploughed and the colours will change as the season moves on.

There are silver threads in my hair. No longer can I pull them out one by one. Accept them. Love them.   There are lines around my eyes and I push them back and wish. Power surges and hormonal dips play havoc. Time is moving on, praying I'm only half way, so much to do, so many dreams to chase so much to see and do.

There are silver threads to be worn. I shall wear silver shoes too. I shall celebrate in style with my nearest and dearest, my wonderful family. We shall wine and dine on the finest. We shall laugh and reminisce and look forward. Cryptic messages in my diary soon to be told. Its only a number and not really that old.

Medals have been won and challenges achieved. The next season begins with goals anew. The next decade of dreams waiting to unfurl, races to be done and most precious of all, time to be spent with my most special girl.

  

Home and Away

I was unsure if I needed to pack my running kit for my holiday. I wanted to pack light and trainers are  heavy and cumbersome compared to another pair of sparkly flip flops. Plus I would be too hot to wear them en route, I was longing for that blast of hot hair to hit me in the face and once my foot hit the top step to disembark from the plane my freshly manicured toes needed to be sunshine ready.

I was also feeling somewhat tired and wondered if my week away needed total relaxation, long lie ins and late nights sitting on the balcony enjoying copious amounts of rose wine. My knees were still not completely recovered from my last race and a trip up the garden steps resulting in a freshly scraped layer of skin removal from both and a bruised chin had me thinking it was time for a complete rest. Save the running for home.

So, the running kit didn't even make it to the 'to be considered for packing pile.'

Then my mind started thinking, what if there was a lovely long stretch of downhill road from mountain top to beach to be attempted? What if there was a lovely long coast road to be enjoyed? What if there was a mountain top trail to be explored?

And that was that. The trainers were in the bag.

Three early morning get ups had me enjoying an almost deserted port, save for the other runners. Who by the way were very serious looking and barely acknowledged my wide smile and morning hola's. I set out from the hotel just as the sun peeped over the top of the mountain. My first outing took me up the hill and back down to a park with a running track. I had spotted runners tracking the evening before and I was going to have me some of that! Two dusty loops and I was bored and so I headed out along the sea front towards the hill that headed up to the lighthouse.

I didn't climb to the top until my second run. This time Mr B got up too, he set off a few minutes before me, he was walking to the top and I was jogging gently, hoping to reach the top without stopping. I almost made it but the final switch back had me gasping for breath, sweat dripping from every pore and legs feeling like jelly. I walked the final part and took in the glorious view whilst I waited for my husband to join me and share the joy of being alive and fit and well with me.

We took the tram into the town of Soller and I calculated the journey there and back was probably about 6k, and mentally planned my next run. I could have that glass of rose wine, that pastry, that ice cream, after all I had brought my running shoes, I'd earn them! I set out on my third run fully intending to follow the road into the town but the lure of the lighthouse called me back up the hill. This time I couldn't manage so far before walking, but hey, I didn't care one bit. I also attempted the trail at the top. Sadly the terrain immediately reminded me of the Selworthy Beacon trail and neither my knees or my head were ready for that. Instead I enjoyed the downhill all the way to the bottom. And, I didn't fall. Well not then anyway, I did manage to slip down the last three steps of the hotel on our last day, at least my knees were saved this time, my bottom took the brunt this time. I'm seriously thinking this falling over malarkey might need looking into now.

Being out and about before the rest of the world puts a truly magical slant onto a place. Just the workers getting everything ready for the hordes of tourists. Rubbish collectors, sand sweepers and tram drivers, all far more smiley than the runners. Still waters, lone swimmers, bathing birds. Bobbing dinghies alongside the sleeping super yachts and cruisers. Dog walkers, stationary taxis and the postie. Heaven, glorious peaceful heaven.  Running is relaxation. Running is recuperation. Running is for home and away.

I swam too. No waves, perfectly still, clear, warm water. I spent many hours floating and studying the homes around the port. I eventually chose a villa as my perfect home. A villa in need of renovation. Perfectly placed atop one of the lower mountains, right around at one end of the port. A beautiful view looking out across the boats and restaurants and from the back a never ending vista of sea. Yep, that's the one, I'll take it. I would never have to think about packing my trainers again.

I wonder if my granddaughter would like to spend long hot summers in Mallorca with her Nanna and Pops?

Beacon to Beach

Last week I ran the Beacon to Beach race. I had really been looking forward to what I falsely presumed would be a downhill all the way with a bit of flat at the end run.

On the Friday evening my running buddy Fi and myself studied the race details and eventually resorted to looking at the OS map to check the coordinates and where we needed to be. We found Selworthy Beacon atop Bossington Hill and decided we would need to head for Selworthy in order to reach the start.

Come Sunday morning this is where we headed only to find narrow lanes ending with a 'not suitable for motor vehicles' sign. Oh. Ok, lets move onto Allerford and see if we can get to the top from there. Um, that'll not be the right place either then! Yes, we could walk to the top, a steep climb for twenty minutes but, no, the kindly gentleman told us, we really needed to go back into Minehead and up North Hill to get to the start of the race.

We retraced our journey and decided to head for the finish line where hopefully we would be able to get the limited minibus lift to the top. Time was ticking by and the car park was filling but we duly found a space and dashed for the minibus only to see it turning out of the car park. As the sign was still displayed we decided to wait and hope another one would be along soon.

We left Minehead in warm sunshine and arrived at the start in almost drizzly and quite breezy chilly weather. Our singlets and shorts quite the wrong attire for standing around waiting. We sheltered alongside the parked vehicles and were grateful that our foray around the surrounding area had left us with only ten minutes to wait for the start.

Now, remember I mentioned my hopes of a downhill and flat race? It started with an up, a slow and steady up but nonetheless an up. Humph. This was not what I had envisaged at all. The horn sounded and suddenly we were all hurtling through the gate along the track. So many people, no time to dawdle but within seconds Fi was edging away from me. Hills always kill my times and I just had to dig in and keep going. My team were long gone and I settled in for the climb. Being a slow and steady runner and dropping further back into the field I had time to look out over the view of Porlock Bay, way down below bathed in glorious sunshine.

Soon the up eased out into a short stretch of flat before we were rising more steeply up to the beacon. A gentle downhill section followed and then disaster struck. I fell. I fell badly. As soon as I started to go I knew there was no saving and resigned myself to the forthcoming hit. Oh my goodness did that hurt. My left knee hit the rocks and my upper body and leg slid along the stones in the rut. I wanted to cry. It hurt like hell. A very nice young man of about twelve or so helped me to my feet, retrieved my water bottle and was very concerned for my well being, it took me quite a bit of thanks before I managed to shoo him along to do his own race and not worry about me. Runners all around me asked if I was Ok whilst I stood dazed with a bleeding knee. What to do? Carry on or stop. I had fallen just before one of the relay team change over stations and I decided I would carry on to the next relay change over and by then I would know if I hurt just because I had fallen or if I had actually damaged my knee.

Next we dropped down over into the wooded area of North Hill. Marshals warned to slow down and take care as the way ahead could get quite slippery. I took my time and even managed to pass a few people. My knee hurt like hell but the bleeding seemed to have stopped and the trail was softer under foot so I tried to enjoy myself. Before I knew it I went over again. Heaven only knows why I tripped that time but this was steeper ground and smoother thankfully but I hit the ground hard and slid for what felt like forever. I managed to get myself sitting up and cried whilst I felt very sorry for myself. Two burly chaps took me under the arms and got me back onto my feet whilst a third suggested I walk for a while.

More kindness form the runners around me making sure I was OK whilst I realised I actually had no choice whatsoever but to carry on as this would be the only way to get to the finish. I re-pinned my torn number and gingerly tested walking, my right knee now bleeding, my shoulders scraped and my sweaty body now covered in a fine muddy dust and my pride well and truly in tatters. I walked for a little bit but soon decided this was going to take too long, I still had quite some distance to go, and gently sped up to a jog.

Eventually I reached the bottom and thank goodness out onto a tarmac road. I headed along the sea front and felt all alone. I was so far behind everyone else I really wasn't sure I was going the right way. I decided I had to keep going until I saw a marshal and eventually I did. Im sure most of the pedestrians were unaware of the race and I was duly ignored by quite a lot of them. I did get one shout out that was very special as the lady had read my club name on my vest. At last I reached the crossing point and headed towards the West Somerset Railway Line where I had to wait for the Thomas the Tank Engine steam train to puff past. A welcome breather maybe but I was seriously concerned I wouldn't be able to get going again.

I was directed up past the hospital and I wondered if they were open on a Sunday and if I would be needing their services, oh and this was an incline once again. At last I reached the college and onto grass. As I turned the corner I saw that I had to run down a steep bank, I edged to the corner determined not to fall in front of the crowd and made my way to the bottom. Sadly my spirit did not have an ounce of sprint finish about it but I ran to the finish. I heard Fi and her family shouting for me and I crossed the line and spotted my finish time of 1hr 10. I was not the only team member to fall, Phil also damaged his knee and hurt his rib.

It eventually dawned on me that for 7 miles I had actually done a good time, then I was cross, had I not fallen I could have got a wriggle on along the front and done a sprint finish and my time would have been cracking, for me. When I studied my stats I had actually done a really good pace up those hills.

The day after I could barely walk, the next day the bruising really began to come out and my body ached from head to foot. By Wednesday walking had become easier but banging my knee on the table leg reminded my how badly I had hurt it. Today I worked with the reception children and we compared bruised knees, mine were right up there I have to say and they seemed quite impressed that I had fallen over twice!

So there we have it, I'm out of action. Maybe I'm not a trail runner. Maybe I should stick to solid, flat ground. After fall one I remember muttering that I would never do this race again. After fall two it was a definite never again. Almost a week later and maybe...




Kerry, Fi, Lyn, Gemma

Every second counts.

This year I shall be 50 years old. 18262.1 days old. 1,577,836,800 seconds old. 

Time moves on, it takes us back and forth in memories and every second is precious. Hours, days and years pass and yet sometimes events make us feel like it was only yesterday we left school, made a new friend or took up a hobby.

Thirty four years ago I left school to begin my adult life. I have kept in touch with several school friends some of whom only in recent years through the wonders of the technical revolution. One bestie I have travelled half way round the world for, twice. The magic of a real hug after months of virtual ones is incredibly powerful. 

Though Facebook I have been able to add my congratulations to friends I have yet to re meet up with who are also celebrating their 50th year this year. I had the pleasure of visiting north Devon  a couple of months back to join in festivities for a particularly special friend, a great night of dancing and drinking was had. Last night I partied in a barn, a real barn, with a disco and a large number of people! This bestie I had not seen since the day we parted company on our last school day. 

All these people have not changed one bit. OK, we may look a bit older and we are certainly wiser from life experiences but underneath we are exactly the same. I loved them then and I love them now.

I consider myself very lucky to have met many friends along the way. My husband, of course, no one knows me better, he really can read me like a book. Some stay the course and if they've been with me this long then I shall not be letting them go anytime soon. They are a very important part of my life. Thankfully not so many where circumstances have sent us on different paths and new ones bringing friendship, support and encouragement in many guises. 

My Timehop app took me back four years this morning to my Facebook status that read "5K, 42 minutes, I'm feeling sick and I need a lie down." Yesterday I completed my parkrun 5K in 30 minutes and 3 seconds. I still felt sick and I could have had a lie down but settled for a perch on a bench. Twelve minutes improvement in four years, to say I'm over the moon would be an understatement. (This is my official parkrun time, my coach's time has me at sub 30 and had I not had to stop and tie my laces my official time would have also been under 30!) 

A few months back a new friend took me under her wing and has very kindly been nurturing me along in my quest to improve my running. She devised a plan for me, this encouraged me to do speed work and I even ventured onto the track. She explained how to increase my distances, slowly and steadily and most importantly she made me realise that running sometimes should just be an easy and enjoyable outing. Sometimes she also forgoes her own parkruns to run with me, to pace me and to keep me going. Added to this one of my running club leaders has been leading sessions on exercises, stretching, track and hill. Fellow runners are incredibly supportive and encouraging. All in all I am incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such good people. All of these wonderful people have helped me to improve my running and I did not think this would be possible. I am very grateful to each and everyone of them. Thank you all. 

This morning I have spent time with another very good friend, sadly she is injured but we did manage a few loops around the park and very many minutes putting the world to rights. Her most important message to me today was to concentrate on the seconds you are currently in. Enjoy each and every one of them as much as you can. Thinking back to happy times is good, but you can't change the not so happy ones so don't dwell upon them, remember them and put them away. Thinking forward is good for time planning and all that organisational stuff  but there's no point wasting precious time worrying about chores waiting at home until you get home. 

Every second is precious, make the most of each and every one of them. Oh, and those three seconds I need to lose on my parkrun time, they'll happen, and be sure, you will hear me scream when it happens!     

Loosening My Laces

I've clocked up 23 miles this week. I'm quite chuffed about that.

Monday was an inset day, no work for me. The teachers were writing their reports and I was taking stock of my beautiful surroundings on an almost 7 mile round trip. I added in an extra loop to a tried and tested route that I usually enjoy and this outing was as lovely as usual.

Wednesday after work I was treated to a visit from my lovely DiL and the scrumptious granddaughter. Oh how I could eat her. My heart melts when she looks at me and that face breaks into a smile. Her eyes sparkle, she gurgles and I am putty in her hands. When they left I changed into my kit and set off to running club. Half way along my journey it finally registered that it was, once again, pouring with rain. Fellow runners waited under trees and out in the open getting soaked through, not me, I waited until the very last minute before leaving the dry and warmth of my car.

I am very fortunate that a club organiser is training for her running coach qualification and is needing guinea pigs, free coaching for me then!  Hill training was planned for this session. The Vale of Taunton kind of gives away the fact  that there are not many hills in the town and  I had been pondering all week where we would do the training. We trotted off to Galmington and found a hummock.

I had promised, mostly to myself, that I would not moan my way through this session. You may know, I HATE hills.We started with some warm up stretches and then had to run around the crescent and back four times. Every ounce of effort was required and we had to remember posture, arms, knees up oh and to breathe. And off we went.

Up the hummock, or maybe it had become a hillock, whatever it was a steepish incline but I quite quickly and efficiently got to the top and relaxed back down the other side. No problem, hills, don't know what my issue is with them. I turned around and was soon back to the top of the rise and enjoyed the next relaxed down. Second climb. Actually that was a hill, not a big one I grant you but that gradient was enough to make breathing considerably harder. Shouts of encouragement from Sandra helped and I must have been doing everything OK as she wasn't telling me to change anything. Relief, the top was reached and I got some puff back on the decline.

The third attempt and I couldn't believe I was going to have to do the climb again. I really didn't think I was going to make it to the top. I was going to need crampons and a rope. The quicker, proper runners were gradually increasing their leads and I was meeting them coming back as I reached the summit.

Soaked to the skin, exhausted and in need of a quiet lie down in a darkened room I set off on my final trek up the mountain. I made it, as I had slowed down quite considerably oxygen was not required and I was so happy with myself for not having moaned once, I hadn't had the spare breath to do so.

By the time we got back to the cars just over 4 miles had been added to my weekly tally. (I still HATE hills, but I'm not moaning!)

Thursday after school Gill and I set off for our after work chatty run. I don't know how Gill manage to run and talk without sounding like the steam train I turn into! On a whim I suggested a different route and Gill is usually happy to go wherever I lead. I actually took us off road which is very unusual for me. I like roads and pavements and it wasn't long before I was regretting the extra weight from the mud stuck to my trainers. We put the worlds to rights and clocked up almost 4 miles.

Sunday, today, my first trip out in my brand new trainers. Grape, lime and white in colour, gel in the soles and go faster stripes. What more could a girl need in running shoes. I set off on my long run route adding in another loop to lengthen it further and was very soon saddened that my legs were not loosening up and each and every step was darned hard work. I thought I might cut it short and detour back home the quick way but decided that as it was such a beautiful morning I would keep going. I keep reading on running forums that to take a walking break is absolutely fine, but why does it always feel such a cop out?

My go faster stripes were not working, the gel in the soles was not making the journey any less painful or easier and the colour of my shoes matched the colour of my face perfectly.  I decided that I had tied my laces too tightly and this was my problem. I ploughed on with my chosen route, and completed 8 miles in a fairly slow venture. Eight miles is better than zero miles so no harm done.

Next week's running choices include hashing, (probably far too muddy for my liking) some self led speed work, (I aim to be quite quick on the downhill and quite slow on the up hill) a club time trial, (not done this before and I am quietly terrified) my weekly run with Gill, (must remember to ask her lots of questions so she does all the talking) and parkrun, (but not in my new trainers unless the sun shines ALL week!)