The beginning of the end

So another year draws to a close and all around are people making resolutions to make their lives better in someway. Most commonly they will decide to lose weight, eat cleaner, go to the gym more, give up smoking....most of these will be but distant memories once February begins, as old habits come to the fore again. This is the time when I will start to hibernate a bit, because discussions about dieting and weight loss and how best to cut out as many calories as possible is akin to reading a step-by-step guide on how to kill yourself for me right now. Oh don't get me wrong, I LOVE talking about all things weight related, but then I'm in one hell of a relapse with anorexia right now so dieting is my bread and butter (pun intended).

Hooked back up to the mains

Unfortunately for me, unlike last year where I could write resolutions along the lines of attaining self-contentment and achieving a time in VLM that made me happy, this year my resolution is simple: to stay alive. Yesterday I was discharged from my 5th hospital admission since November, all of them aimed at keeping me alive a little bit longer by increasing my serum potassium level, rehydrating me, and helping me get control over the continual vomiting I now know is part of cyclical vomiting syndrome, exacerbated by hypokalemia. There's always a point during each admission where my potassium reaches such a level that a pale-faced junior doctor comes rushing over ordering infintessimal bags of IV replacement. In the first few admissions they thought that they could shove a bag through overnight and I'd be fine to go home, but the last few admissions they've come to realise quite how depleted my body gets. It does amuse me though when the doctor you'd previously spent ages trying to convince that one bag won't cut it come over all flustered, pale and sweating, ordering what feels like dozens of the things back-to-back "stat" after read your recent blood result. Every time I get discharged I ask Larry "will that be the last time?", and every time he laughs and says no, I'll be back in a few weeks. I even have the staff saying see you in a few weeks when I leave. But I don't want to be a professional revolving door patient. I don't want to be a collapsed out mummy on the sofa on Boxing Day, just waiting for the children to go to their little holiday with grandparents so I can get my hospital admission without them ever knowing.  

Did that really happen?

Apparently the answer is to eat. I don't think people realise how hard that is to do. Ignoring the fact my body struggles with food going in, hence the vomiting, what does stay in I struggle to digest. And then there's the psychological side of it all.....I am so lucky to have friends I can call on, but when I'm in full-scale panic at having eaten something, nobody can really get through to me. Everyone in hospital asks who's "looking after me", who's in control of me. When I say I'm under the ED team they smile, as though responsibility can pass to them and the problem of me is solved. But the ED team consists of a once weekly appointment with a therapist. No medical back up for the physical side, and when I have to miss an appointment due to being in hospital or too ill to attend, I don't even hear from my therapist. No one checks up on me. The one person who is the best at looking after me is my GP. He sees me weekly, he checks my blood, he's always available if I need to run something past him, and he gives a shit. I honestly don't know what things would be like if I didn't have him supporting me. The best thing is he remembers ME. Not the broken, half-dead specimen in front of him but me at my best. Post-VLM, enthusing about how amazing it was to run a marathon. Celebrating my successes, supporting me when my health led to what I perceived as failures. I'm luck to have him.

And I'm lucky to have my informal cheering squad. I can't neglect to mention Larry, who's had to watch his wife disappearing in front of his eyes for the past 8 months, fighting a battle he can only sit by and watch, and still love me even when anorexia changes me physically and emotionally. He knows I might push my body too far this time, but he's still there, as supportive as he can be despite his own mixed feelings. God, I'm a shit wife. Then there are my friends; some of them long-standing, some a bit newer, but all playing a significant role in keeping me going. They are all so different, but I love them all and appreciate everything they do for me. I know my trainer TT will be there waiting when I am able to progress from the wobbly walking I'm currently doing onto bigger and better things. And Laura will always be there with diet coke and a pot to paint.

So if I was to write resolutions for 2016, they would probably be a lot different to what I would've written had I been fully well;
1. I want my friends and loved ones to always feel appreciated and never taken for granted
2. After almost 25 years, I will finally figure out how to kick anorexia out of my life once and for all
3. Everything has to be about my babies, my 3 beautiful children who deserve to have a functioning mum
4. Failing that, a lottery win would be ace!

Happy New Year everyone xxx

What is anorexia?

The media portrays anorexia as an almost glamorous disease, like heroin chic. "Proana" websites are full of "wannarexics" wanting to "catch" anorexia to help them lose weight. The most recent one I saw was "help me get 'ana' so I can fit into my prom dress in 2 weeks". They often get sent off with a flea in their ear, told to try a healthy diet and not a deadly disease, but it always strikes me as terrifying how so many young girls are glorifying what kills up to 20% of sufferers, that it can be considered desirable and almost like a status symbol. So I've decided to outline what anorexia means to me, if nothing else to get something out of my system.

What is anorexia?

It is the rapid loss of weight, granted, and feeling your clothes getting bigger until they start falling off and you need smaller sizes.
But you don't see that. I've lost a third of my body weight in the past 5 months and I still see what I saw then....fat, hideous, revolting.
It's watching the people you care most about exchanging worrying glances and knowing this is killing them too, but feeling totally powerless to change anything.
It's lying in bed all night with hideous abdominal cramps from laxative abuse, which you didn't even need because you'd barely eaten anyway, but you took "just in case".
It's watching everyone else getting on with their lives while you're stuck, or even in reverse, and you would do anything to move forwards but eat.
It's missing out on taking your family to the Goose Fair because standing is a bit of a challenge today and having a bit of egg was too little too late, but oops now I need to burn off the egg.
It's seeing all your running friends racing and improving, while you're grateful to be able to walk a short distance every day.
Sometimes you lash out, and you hurt people you care most about like I did yesterday, and I don't know if I'll be forgiven or not. It's hard for most people to separate you from the ED bit of you.
It's being cold all the time, and nothing really warms you up...except maybe hot food, but that's not an option because you're too tired to work it off.
It's being scared ALL THE TIME that your children will notice and develop the disease when they're older.
It's lying in bed feeling your heart pounding and hoping it calms down but doesn't stop entirely overnight.
It's watching your children playing, and praying you get sorted so you see them grow up.
It's having people you considered friends totally ignore you and your FB posts because they don't understand, so maybe ignoring will make you go away.
It's other friends whom you haven't seen for ages swearing under their breaths at your weight loss and asking you if you're ok, which shocks you because don't forget, you don't look any different in your eyes.
It's begging your therapist for more help only to be told you're lucky to get one hour a week because funding for eating disorders is so scarce, and you're too heavy for inpatient treatment.
And then one day you find a breast lump, and realise that if it is cancer, you'd be too scared to have treatment because the steroids will make you fatter.
Every night you go to sleep and pray for the day when you wake and food is separate from feelings, and you can start accepting social invitations and eating for pleasure.
It's about so much more but I'm getting really tired sitting up to type this and need to lie back down.

Last year my dreaming the impossible was to be able to run the London Marathon 2015. This year my dreaming the impossible is being alive to run the London Marathon 2016 for Mind. I've missed Robin Hood so far this season and will miss Royal Parks and Great South Run over the next few weeks. I'm not missing any more. By hook or by crook, I will start VLM16 and I will also finish it. I just need to figure out some stuff first. Thank you for reading.

Black hole

In astronomy, a black hole is a region in space which has a gravitational field so intense that nothing can escape. It absorbs all the light in the area, and no light can ever escape.

For the past few weeks I feel like I've been in my own personal black hole. It's sucked me in, and now I'm trapped and unable to escape. No sooner do I start to crawl out does it suck me back down deeper.

It's been a really rough few weeks all truth told. I've had a whole load of crap thrown at me, and have hit levels of lowness that I haven't experienced for many, many years, but also I've discovered that I have an incredible amount of support that I had no idea existed. Every cloud and all that....

But first.... I haven't updated this blog for almost 6 weeks now, because the last time I did I offended someone completely unintentionally, and I felt terrible for quite a while. I insinuated that the head of the school I'm on the PTA for didn't give two hoots about the fayre I've been organising, and looking back it gave the impression that she was unsupportive and disinterested, and I apologise to her for that. She has been as supportive as she can, but work demands limit her availability to get involved in additional stuff. On seeing first hand how much work it has taken to organise this fayre, I cannot fathom how someone can run an entire school! With only 2 weeks to go until the fayre though, I am finally feeling a bit more in control of it all. I hate that free-fall sensation where you're aware that time is racing past but you are unable to do anything about it or get anything under control. We have struggled with a lack of helpers, yet still we have somehow managed to get things very nicely under control and will hopefully put on a great day for everyone. I will be so glad once it's done and dusted though, I dread to think how many grey hairs will emerge as a result of the worry and stress!

Most people who know me know my mood has been at rock bottom for a few weeks recently. I'm not sure what triggered it; there have certainly been a lot of potential culprits. Two weeks ago my GP was concerned enough about me that he called the police out to my house to check that I was ok. I had input from the (useless) crisis team, a lot of support from my awesome GP, and Larry took an extended period of time off work to help me look after the children and allow me a much-needed break. What astounded me though was the amount of support I received from my RMR ladies. I never once felt judged or patronised, as a result I've gotten to know some of them much better which has been lovely, but mostly I've just felt cushioned and loved. And my god have I needed that. In being able to show weakness I have been given a whole lot of strength back, and I will never be able to thank them enough for that. Even in the 21st century, mental illness is such a taboo subject. Despite the rapidly increasing prevalence of mental health problems in society, a lot of people still treat is as a dirty subject, much like they would a sexually transmitted infection. It is the underclass of health problems, the thing people don't like to talk about for fear of being judged. Yet is that exact attitude that creates the judgement. I don't want to be ashamed that I have anorexia and depression, but I am. Whenever I have to talk about it I inwardly wince. So often I've thought that it would be easier having cancer, because that's just as much of a killer as, say, anorexia, but its far more socially acceptable. In that your body has been invaded so you are blameless. But in mental illness when it's your thoughts that are to blame, well that's all your fault isn't it?

The biggest effect of my depression being so bad of late is the fact that, for the first time ever, it has affected my ability to run. All the way through VLM training and even before that, I could leave all the crap (including the black dog) at the door and would feel freedom from the turmoil for the duration of my run and for a while afterwards. Recently I drag all the crap out with me; it is just impossible to extricate myself from it and shake the black dog free to be able to run. So many of my runs have resulted in me sat on a bench somewhere sobbing my eyes out because I feel too mentally paralysed to run. And when I can't run, I have no release, no escape. My mojo has been on holiday. I could quite possibly have thrown in the towel with my running; I've told TT countless times I'm going to pull out of all the races I have booked for autumn because I'm completely useless. If it wasn't for my little running club at school I would be at risk of giving up entirely. My self esteem is rock bottom and some days I'm not certain I actually ran VLM at all. But I am stubborn, and I am sticking to my training plan and working hard, only there is currently very little in the tank as my food intake has taken a major nose dive due to recent events. I'm always in such a precarious balance of food intake and mood. Eat too much and it sets off the ED siren which flares my depression. Eat too little and the ED is satisfied and the depression eases, but I can't run as well which exacerbates the depression. I feel like I'm in a no-win situation, and the loudest voice is always the ED one so that's the one that trumps the lot. And while I'm happy that the weight is dropping off again, I'm getting very dizzy again and light-headed when I'm training, and then I think am I really back here again? Back to the end of November when TT would look at me with concern rather than pride, eyes darting as he tries to figure out if I'm about to face plant on the floor or just stagger and hold on to something. I don't want that, but I want the release from depression that starving offers. And then I think of how every day is a psychological struggle for me, and - perhaps petulantly - think "it's not fair". I want to be "normal". I want to feel happy, I want to be able to eat something extra without crucifying myself afterwards, I want to be free from the anguish. But, at 35, it feels like I will never be free, which turns me full circle back to where I was 2 weeks ago when my GP called the police.

So for now I'm dragging myself through the days, trying to do my best at everything I do. I'm working my hardest at making a success of the school summer fayre and running club, I'm trying to be the best mum to my children as I can despite the emotional blunting I have at present, and I'm searching hard for that passion for running that is buried deep within me, and perhaps will be the thing to lift me out of this seemingly endless black hole. But until that happens I will grasp the love and support on offer, and hope that one day it will be enough to start me moving up and out.

 

Reprisals

I had intended to close this blog down for a while after VLM. Afterall, I had only started it to help follow my marathon journey, surely it should finish with the completion of the marathon? But in truth, writing it gives me more than a mere timeline of my training...it allows me to order my thoughts and challenge my initial interpretation of them. So here it is, resurrected and moving in an altogether different direction.

Life since VLM has been, in all honestly, rubbish. I feel like I'm in free fall...directionless and without purpose. It's almost like I'm grieving a bit. Marathon training was about so much more than just getting the mileage up. It was all I lived and slept for over half a year. It had all my childhood dreams tied up in it, hours and hours spent pounding the pavements in all weathers, massive massive fundraising efforts and endless self-promotion (which doesn't come easy) to ask people to support me and give their money to the cause that I believe in in a bid to support me. Then there was the build up, the anticipation, the immense excitement, knowing that I was going to fulfil a dream that I had wanted since being knee high to a grasshopper. On the day people were tracking me, people who only know me through a running group but still so supportive and willing me on to do well. Then the immediate aftermath where I was buzzing and walking on air, and people congratulating me and saying I was inspiring...it was so much more than I could ever have dreamed it would be. And now it's gone.

So on 4th May I entered the ballot for next year's VLM, but let's face it, 250,000 people have entered this year, my chances are very small. I wouldn't mind if it wasn't for the fact that a lot of those people are complete beginners, people who can't even run for a bus, who watched the marathon and think they'd like a bit of that action. And it wouldn't matter if they were committed, I'd say good for you, but the truth is a lot of them will quickly lose their ambition as soon as winter draws in and it's cold and unforgiving, and they have to drag themselves out for a 15 mile run when the rest of their family is inside in the warm. Because that one day of "wow I want to do that" isn't enough to basically sacrifice everything else in your life for a lot of people.

So my only other option is to get a charity place again, which brings with it the challenge of fundraising. As someone recently so (un)helpfully said, why would people want to sponsor me a second time, and that I shouldn't rely on others to "finance [my] hobby". Is this how people really see it? Do people really think that they are contributing to me being able to run rather than to a cause I wholeheartedly believe in? To a cause that a LOT of other people believe in. To a cause that supports a group of illnesses that affect 1 in 4 people. 25% of the population. And I have considered other charities, I've thought about CRUK and CLIC Sargeant and other charities that support illnesses people I know and love have been affected by, but I can genuinely say that, even if by applying to other charities it gives me a greater chance of getting a place for VLM16, I can't imagine running VLM with anything but a Mind vest on. And maybe that's the point here; I need to run a marathon for myself, not someone else. I can't get out there and train when my heart isn't in it, I'm exhausted and it's perishingly cold if it's not for something I feel so strongly because its for something I'm living with everyday. So next week when Mind open for marathon applications, I will be applying to run London all over again, and hope that people get behind me not just to help me reach my fundraising target, but also to carry me through the days my legs just don't want to run.

I knew that it would take a while for my body to get back to normal after the marathon, but I didn't think I would feel like a beginner runner again, so much so that I sometimes wonder if I dreamed the whole thing. Surely I can't lose it all in the space of a month? It's almost as though my body has said yeah you've had your fun now I'm on strike. I am still lucky enough to be working with TT who is doing a brilliant job of rebuilding my body so I'm strong all over and not just in my legs as can happen when you're an endurance runner. I've also started working with Kevin Betts, the crazy guy who thought running 52 marathons in a year was a great plan, even popping one off on his wedding day. He has been advising the Mind team for a while, and is working to help me whittle my half time to under 2 hours, and knock a good hour off my marathon time. I'm still waiting to feel like a super human speedy runner, but I suppose Rome wasn't built in a day as they say. I need to learn patience!

NWR do Pretty Muddy

Last weekend I had my first introduction to "dirty" runs doing the R4L Pretty Muddy with some of the NWR ladies. Let's face it, this was majorly out of my comfort zone as I'm a nice clean road runner. But I wanted to run with my team and be part of something, so I signed up with them. On the day I was surprised I found it all really easy - the hardest bit was figuring out how to stay clean! A far cry from the spluttering wheezing mess from the Mo Run last November (my last run with the club). And strangely I did really enjoy it. Of course I loved feeling like part of a team, I so often feel like part of nothing, just terminal loneliness, but I actually quite liked the freedom of allowing myself to get covered in mud. It was liberating in a strange way. That said, I was sooooo glad to get in a hot shower when I got home! And sadly, the mud did nothing for my complexion, but did make me feel a bit badass which is never a bad thing!

The biggest thing affecting me at present is I'm struggling to keep my mood up. I feel like I have so many balls in the air, so many things to keep on top of that I'm losing the reasons why I started them in the first place. Take, for example, the school PTA summer fayre. Support has been dwindling for a while, then last week out of the blue my most helpful committee member quit with "immediate effect". This was a devastating blow for the PTA as by losing the secretary it makes my job a million times harder, and now I feel the onus of the summer fayre is resting on me alone. The head isn't that interested, we can call it off or go ahead with it, as long as she doesn't need to do anything for it. And I would love to say forget it, save myself hours of work and stress and make life a whole lot easier for myself. But then I think of all the children, how much they'd love it whether it's as spectacular as I'd hoped for or crap as I fear it will be. Once the fayre is done I can resign my position and life will get a lot easier. But how to get there....I don't know. I cry too much at the moment, worry lines etch my forehead where laughter lines should be. I need to be grateful for what I can do, and work with what I've got, and sometimes settle for "good enough" rather than always striving for perfection. I just wish I knew how to start that process.

Last Friday I was attacked in my car by a beardy Scottish man for something to do with how I was driving round a roundabout. It was one of those massive roundabouts where there are several sets of traffic lights and that day every set was red. So I was going from set to set and stopping each time. I became aware that someone was tooting their horn, but ignored it as I wasn't doing anything wrong so couldn't see how it would apply to me. At the last set of lights I notices a man in the car to my right gesturing wildly, I wondered if he'd noticed a problem with my car such as a door open or the like so I opened my window a bit to hear him better. He was going on about me driving round the roundabout at 20mph and using a lot of expletives. I shut my window, and then saw him get out of his car and come over to mine. It was like someone had poured a bucket of ice into my heart at that moment, and I was shocked to see him tugging on my door handle (thank god for auto locking doors) and bashing my car window hard, all the while screaming something about 20mph at me. I was vaguely aware that other cars were hooting him, but no one got out of their car to help me. And suddenly I was back there again, when HE was pushing his way into my room at university, beating me, raping me then leaving me broken. And as the light went green suddenly I could move again, but my biggest concern wasn't to get the hell out of there, but that I didn't run over his foot. What kind of idiot does that make me, worrying about hurting someone who is hurting me?! And yesterday I wanted to stamp it all out into the pavement, all the anger that someone could make me feel vulnerable YET AGAIN in somewhere that should be safe, but instead I felt paralysed, like I was running in slow motion, with all that crap round my neck dragging me down and holding me back. And that fucks me off.

So today I met Sarah and we went out to get those miles I needed to get yesterday into my legs. It wasn't a spectacular run, but it felt better than yesterday, and I saw a glimmer of my former running self slipping back. So I need to take my tearful pathetic self and give it a shake, then look forwards and keep going. I'm not a quitter, I'm not a wimp. I need to remind myself that it was me who ran a marathon a month ago, not a look alike imposter, and I have the chafing scars to prove it! So many people expected me to fail at the London Marathon, people who should've been my biggest supporters never expected me to reach the start line, let alone get to the finish line. I'm not a quitter. I'm stubborn. Even the strongest person has their breaking point, but after running outside in a beautiful place with a good friend today, I no longer feel like I've reached mine.  

Chasing the dream: running VLM15

Last weekend was one of the most incredible weekends of my life, right up there with my wedding day and having my babies. After years of watching it on TV, and months of training, tears, blisters and worries that I wasn't good enough, I finally ran the London Marathon. It was as incredible an experience I'd anticipated, but in ways that I hadn't expected.


Thursday 23rd April: 3 days to go

A few weeks back I'd had a stroke of genius that it'd be a great idea for Larry and I to go to Eden Hall Day Spa before the marathon as I needed a bit of a digital detox - reading everyone's posts about VLM were fuelling my nerves and excitement so I really needed some switch off time. Larry also needed to de-stress. The day was fab; it was great to just put on a dressing gown and slob about from hot tub to pool to lounger, a quick pause for an "intense body massage" which turned out to be a bit of a tickle compared to the sports massages TT has done on me but still nice and relaxing, and then a 3 course meal. We did a quick stint in the gym and I had a blast on the treadmill which reassured me my legs were ready for action. But it was just nice, away from the world and all the stresses, just good switching off time.



Friday 24th April: 2 days to go

Finally Friday came and we started the first leg of the journey to the start line, down to Surrey to my parents' house where Larry and I would stay the night and leave the children for the weekend. It was good to finally be moving, making the dream happen. It took me ages to pack; I was so worried I'd leave my registration documents behind or my ID, or pack everything but my sports bra....those kind of anxieties that are only quelled by checking and rechecking then getting on with it! All over Facebook I could see that other VLMers were getting increasingly anxious and worrying about the marathon, but I was actually feeling pretty calm at that point. I've read something recently that nerves and excitement are caused by exactly the same thing - surges of adrenaline - and it's how you interpret those feelings as to whether you are nervous or excited. Aware of this, whenever I did get those pangs of adrenaline I tried to consider it as excitement to keep a more positive outlook, rather than the more negative feeling of nervousness.

However I felt, one thing I was growing increasingly fed up with was eating. Yes I know, I have a bad relationship with food, but having to deliberately eat 3 carb heavy meals a day with snacks in between was purgatory. I was itching to run it off. I felt like I had a carb baby on my stomach, I felt revolting and fat and greedy. But I was also determined to not let anorexia wreck my marathon journey at the final hurdle. But carbs are just so heavy and bloating. I look at the photos of me taken in the few days of carb loading, and while I don't look as massive as I felt at the time, I still think I look more bloated and fluidy. For me, the running wasn't the hardest bit, it was the fuelling to enable me to run. But I've had plenty of races or long runs that only went wrong because I'd not eaten properly, I couldn't blow the big one. So I ate dinner, I walked my dog to loosen off my legs and I kept telling myself that it would be over soon and I only had to eat for 2 more days.



Saturday 25th April: 1 day to go

The countdown clock

Now THIS was the day I had been looking forward to, the day we would head into London for the expo! I had no idea what to expect from the expo apart from knowing that here I would collect my bib number and timing chip, and there would be a variety of merchandise on sale. I certainly didn't expect Disney Land for runners!!! It was huge, it was busy and there was running-related stuff everywhere! First of all I collected my running bib, and was given the final set of instructions. I then went on to collect my timing chip, after which I went through an "Adidas" tunnel which led me into wonderland! First of all I queued up to get my photo taken next to the countdown clock. It was one of those situations where you could strike up a conversation with anyone, as we all had the same thing in common. Everyone was so excited. After I'd had my photo taken I signed the humongous marathon wall, which was no mean feat as the only blank spaces were right at the bottom or at the top. I didn't put anything earth-shatteringly exciting, but it was nice to put my stamp on the whole thing.

The writing's on the wall

Then there was the shopping. I felt like a small child looking round a sweet factory, wide eyed and mouth gaping. There were shoes, running clothing, running accessories, lucozade, nutrition stands, all different brands with their merchandise out, charity stalls, music and people hustling and bustling amidst the kaleidoscope of colours. The atmosphere was alive with excitement and anticipation; people were there to have fun, meet other people and share in their common love of running. Looking round I saw Susan Wheatcroft from Virtual Runner UK, who had run an award at the Running Awards 2015 the previous evening. It amused me that I should bump into her all the way down in London, when we live minutes away in Nottingham but seldom cross paths. I also saw Gill Watson who is a bit of an exercise ninja working on the nutrition stall, and it was lovely to have a chat with her too.

Edna and me

A little while later I saw I had a message from a lovely Minder, in fact she was Ms Funky Sunglasses from Silverstone. She said she was sat in a spot not far away so I went and found her, and she was with another Mind lady, Carmel. We all shrieked and squeaked to see each other after months of only being FB friends. Soon Jo and her lovely mum came and joined us, and we had the best time talking about absolutely nothing, as only women can! While we were talking, Larry and Manda's partner caught sight of last year's female VLM winner, Edna Kiplagat, standing not far away, so I managed to land a photograph with her. Ok, so if I'm entirely honest, I had absolutely no idea who she was when I had the picture taken, but I knew she'd won and that was good enough. She's like running royalty so I'm very grateful to have met her.

Then soon we all went our separate ways and I bumped into Sarah, my running friend from Derby. The whole thing was just so bizarre; we were both out of our usual environments so to meet up there just added to the whole feeling of craziness. When Sarah went off to find her hotel, I finally
met my lovely friend Holly who has been so sweet and thoughtful to me so many times before. And she is as lovely in real life as she is online or on the phone. We had agreed to run the marathon together, and were chattering away about it all getting increasingly excited. Once Holly had gone on to look at some of the stalls, all that was left to do was to have a photo taken at the #extramile booth, then add my picture and message to all the other thousands that were pegged up for all to see.

Then all that remained to do was for Larry and I to hop back on the DLR and go to our hotel to unpack our stuff and for me to get my running kit completely ready for the next day. Then another tonne of carbs later and some gentle stretching, I had an early night to prepare me as best I could for what lay ahead the next day.

Sunday 26th April: marathon day!!!

As my alarm woke me on Sunday morning, I could hear the sound of rainfall outside. On opening the curtains I could see grey, dingy weather, and it was really cold. Bugger. Still, I'd trained in far worse conditions than that, but I had hoped it would be reasonably nice out so there would be plenty of spectators. After my usual pre-race rituals of shower, porridge, get dressed and do a last minute check that I had everything I needed, we were good to go. We caught the DLR to Poplar, then I travelled from Poplar to Greenwich alone. It was weird being on a train that is stuffed full of runners, some taped up to the max, some in fancy dress, and all of us clutching our red bags. When we got off at Greenwich it was a case of follow everyone else. It was freezing cold and the walk seemed to go on forever. In reality it was probably only a couple of miles, but having never been there before I didn't know what to expect, so it just seemed to keep coming. Eventually we reached Greenwich Park, and were allowed entrance to the red start once we'd shown our running numbers. There were so many lorries parked in a long line with the sides off, and I had to find the right lorry for my number, then my bag was put on the lorry and all I had left was what I had in my running belt. It felt really weird, knowing I'd get my bag back only after I'd finished the marathon. I wondered what I would experience before I saw that bag again.

Me, Helen Graham and Scott Kilburn

Feeling a little bit lost and not sure what to do, I found another Mind lady, Sandhu, who looked as lost as I felt. All of a sudden Rohan glided past, swept me up in a bear hug, wished me well then disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. I wanted to meet the Mind team, but the queues for the toilets were at least 100m long by that point so I thought I'd be better off queuing up then meeting my team. With hind sight I really regret this. The Mind team got on and took a team photo, and I wasn't in it. I'm so upset about this and will never get that opportunity back. I also tried and failed to meet Holly, so realised I wouldn't be running with her which made me sad. But soon the time came to get into the pens, and I went into pre-race autopilot. I lined up with two Minders, Helen with whom I did the virtual run with, and Scott whom I ran with at Silverstone. It was reassuring to see familiar faces, and we had some laughs as we jostled for position in the tightly-packed pens.

Soon the crowds of people started slowly moving forwards, and after what seemed like forever, we were walking through the gates of the park, round the corner then the start line loomed into sight. As we crossed the line, we all fell into an easy jog. I hate it when someone suggests I jog rather than run, but that's the only way I can describe that initial speed. We were just too tightly packed to get any speed up. We pootled down the streets at a frustratingly slow 11:30 minute mile pace (my usual speed is 9:30). After a few miles at this speed I began to wave goodbye to my desired sub 5 hour finish time, as I was losing minutes due to the fact that it was too crowded to get into a proper pace. At mile 3 I saw Larry and Sonia and happily waved at them as I ran past. By mile 4 I started to feel increasingly sick and, despite the seemingly arctic conditions, far too hot. It was at this point the gremlins started to nag at me, and I began to doubt myself and whether I could physically manage the full 26.2 miles. Whereas in the past I would've bought into the whole doubting myself thing and it would've snowballed, I just turned round to those nagging thoughts and told them to just "f*ck off". No more, no less. I was too occupied running a marathon, I had no time to start doubting myself! But I needed to do something about my overheating, so at the next water station I took a good glug of water then dumped the rest of it over my head. I felt instantly better, although I was aware I'd wrecked my hair for the photos, but no bother. I continued to do that at every water station until I no longer felt sick, at around mile 6.

Me at RMR base mile 19

The next few miles up to mile 15 were like a roller coaster. There were times where I felt amazingly strong and swift and in control, there was the time at mile 8.5 where I realised I'd missed seeing Larry (he was on the opposite side of the road) and then proceeded to cry for the next mile. There was the time when, on seeing the ridiculous queues for the toilets, I hopped behind a bush for a speedier peeing alternative. I danced with the bands, I helped a few injured runners, I was overtaken by people I ended up overtaking several miles up the road. I was pushed out of the way by a camel, I pushed a minion out of the way, I saw a man in a big pink dress chase a rhino. It was crazy! Turning the corner and crossing Tower Bridge was a "wow" moment. Not long after that I saw Larry and had a little cry about how tired I was. Then I kicked myself up the bum and began the second half. 15 miles took me into a tunnel where a disco was playing and there was yet another queue for toilets. I stopped temporarily and decided to check my phone. I saw a text from Sarah who had set off from blue start before me, and had been at mile 15 some 40 minutes previously. She said her legs had gone so I decided there and then to catch her up. Forgetting the toilet queue I got a man to block me while I peed in a corner then I pressed on. By mile 18 I was only about 15 minutes behind her, so I kept going. At 18.5 I saw Larry again, at 19 I saw my lovely friend Leanne Ludlow who had brought me some nuts as I knew I'd need salt by then. I had a massive hug from her then a bit up the road I saw the RMR ladies and ran over to them shrieking with glee.

I was beginning to get extremely chafed at this point, and running was getting very painful. I started to feel a bit miserable and tired and lonely. Then I looked up and who did I see but Sarah. That was the best hug ever. It was so good to have finally caught her up and know that we would finish the race together. Sarah is like a sister to me, we'd done all our 20 mile runs together, it was only right that we finished together. So we did. At times when Sarah needed help I was able to keep her moving forwards, and when I ran full pelt into the wall at mile 25, she took my hand and kept me going. So it was only right that we finished the London Marathon together, hand in hand.

   

The aftermath

Immediately after finishing the marathon, the priority was to make sure I was fit and well, which required some help from the St John's team. It needed to rehydrate and refuel, then after a train ride to my parents' house where I had a shower, showed off my beautiful medal and had something to eat, we got in the car and Larry drove us back to Nottingham. It was on that 3 hour journey I had the chance to fully appreciate how many messages I had and how much support had been shown to me. And yes, being exhausted and emotional I shed the odd tear or two. How could I not when people I didn't even realise cared about me had been so absolutely lovely to me? It was touching and humbling, and a load of other things as well.

Physical recovery has been pretty unremarkable. I fully expected to be completely wreck for a week after finishing VLM, but on the Monday I went swimming, and on Tuesday I did a body pump class (with slightly lighter weights than normal). I've also been walking about a lot. My biggest issues have been the horrendous chafing in delicate areas, and the knowledge that I will almost certainly lose my black toenail (it's really quite revolting now). I'm dying to run again but until my skin heals up, this is not remotely possible. I often catch myself wondering if it really happened, did I REALLY run a marathon, and not just any marathon but the London Marathon??

And sometimes I feel the euphoria that I felt immediately afterwards, and the the amazing sense of achievement, then I just feel this great big loss, that something I have worked so hard at for so long is now over. But in 16 months I learned to run, I fought the anorexia demons that plagued me so badly, I trained for and ran a marathon, raised £2700 for Mind, and actually realised I'm a pretty ok person after all. And that is good enough for now.



This blog will continue later in the year when I start training for Robin Hood and Royal Parks half marathons, and the Great South Run. Thank you so much for reading this, your continued support means everything.

Virgin Money London Marathon 2015: done!!!!!!!!!

To be continued...........

3 more sleeps to go!!!

This will be my last entry until after the London Marathon has been conquered. This is it. No more can be done now, I've completed my training, I've raised almost £2500, I've made some amazing friends in the process, had a lot of laughs and shed a lot of tears along the way. Tomorrow we drive down to Surrey where my children and dog will stay with my parents, and on Saturday I'll be going to the expo to collect my runners number and chip. Then it'll be a waiting game, lots of legs in the air, and a lorry load of carbs until I turn in early to catch some sleep before race day.

It has the same feel as an impending wedding day followed by a long haul honeymoon break over Christmas might. So much planning to do, so much excitement, fear, anticipation and every other emotion under the sun. This week I've had the emotional stability of a teenager! Everything makes me tear up, every kind gesture or word. A lovely card from my mother in law's friend Margaret was just so beautiful, and reminded me of how running unites people from all walks of life, and also how much richer my life has become over these past 6 months.

A while ago I couldn't see a future for myself after VLM. For a while I saw it as a final event in my life, the last thing I would do. I was drowning in that dark place that I haven't often been to, but when I'm there it drags me down and sucks the life out of me. But slowly, without me noticing at first, there were chinks of sunshine shining through, and slowly the clouds have begun to part and I can see that I still have things to do, still have life to be lived. I want to run VLM with Holly, I'm looking forwards to running the Robin Hood Half with TT - his first racing event - and smashing my PB. I want to visit Caroline and cause mayhem down south. I want to see my children continue to grow and develop into wonderful children, and I want to rekindle friendships that I lost when I became ill last year. I hope to rejoin Larry in the medical world, and then progress to be the person I was born to be before trauma and illness stopped me.

So yeah, 26.2 miles? No sweat! I'm running this for Liz, who lost her life to PND, for myself, who has grown up feeling inferior because my mental health failed me rather than my physical, and for the 250 gems on my Mind vest who represent 250 people my family, friends and team mates have know who have suffered in this way.

God bless all my supporters.

 

T minus 8 days

This time in 8 days time I will be just setting off at Greenwich park with several thousand other people for the biggest challenge of my life: running the London Marathon. I can't believe the time is so close now. Back when I was offered a place in October it seems like ages and ages in the distance, and even when I started my 16 week plan in January it felt like an age away. But here we are, so very close, and it almost feels surreal.

This week one of my Timehop brought up something I posted 4 years ago;

"Loads of luck to Kerstin Pepper who is running the (London) marathon today. She is, frankly, fab!"

I can remember writing that, in awe that a "real" person could be involved in such an event. When you watch it on TV there's always the emphasis on the elites and celebrities, but even the rest of the people you watch with an assumption that they must be mega fit. It seems like worlds apart, like an entirely new universe where all the runners must surely spend every minute of their days running. But seeing a friend conquer those 26.2 miles was inspiring. Suddenly the playing field seemed more open and accessible to the rest of us. And here I am, almost about to start that race myself, and I'm still just me. I don't feel any different, I'm just who I always was.

Yet looking back these past months I can see differences, even if they aren't immediately obvious. This week I made myself porridge. Ok so that's not a major deal for most people, but it was the first time I made something to fuel myself and then ate it during this whole process. Normally I'd only have it if Larry was around to make it, because eating it was one thing, but to have to make it then eat it? No way. Obviously my running has improved a lot too, but the thing people have noticed about me is my self-confidence. Someone at the gym yesterday commented on how I move with more confidence, how much more comfortable I am with my ability. When I do classes I find them a lot easier than I ever used to, and whereas before I'd hold back because I felt sick or dizzy (usually a result of not fuelling beforehand), now I only hold back if I deem the movement potentially injury-inducing. And then there's body confidence. With the exception of this past week where tapering has left me feeling bloated and fat, I can bear to look at my whole body in the mirror now, I can accept looking strong over looking thin (more or less). I will get there.

On Tuesday I received the amazing news that I had a conditional offer to study medicine again. People who know me well know how much I went through when I was last a medical student, how much it crucified me to give it up, how many tears I have shed over my lost career. But as my running shows, I'm nothing if not tenacious and determined, or downright stubborn if you like. Last year I studied hard, in September I sat a notoriously difficult and insanely long exam, and passing that enabled me to get a position at interview. On Tuesday I discovered I had passed that, scoring in the top 20% of candidates, and only have the occupational health review to satisfy now. Except now it looks as though my therapist, always an ally in the past, will not be supporting my application as she thinks I am not well enough. She still considers my running as a form of self-harm, and my running VLM as a form of self-torture. My running has made me the person I am today; it has given me wings and set my mind free. I have achieved things I never dreamed possible. She cannot understand that I run because I like running, I love the friends I have made through running, and I love being part of a world where you're never alone. Luckily my GP is, as ever, supportive, and genuinely wants the best for me. I do understand that certain aspects of my illness with anorexia will hold me up to scrutiny, and yet again I will have to defend myself. But I hope that the OH doctor will be able to see that I am not the person I was then, and enable me to embark on my career so I can do the job I was made to do.

When I was at medical school before and under heavy scrutiny from the powers that be, being told I should be glad I was raped because it gave me a reason to be depressed, I was pretty much broken. I was completely emotionally burnt out, and was on the path that would lead to anorexia hell. When I told them that I would be taking an extended sabbatical my initial feeling was that of relief. Relief that I no longer had the pressure on me from above, always scrutinising me, looking for flaws that weren't there, relief that I no longer had to open my emails with dread that there would be a summons from the sub dean for yet another character assassination. But after that relief was such a deep sense of loss that has haunted me all these years. I went to my husband's graduation from med school choking back the tears knowing that it should've been me too. I think that's why I submerged into anorexia as much as I did, it stopped it hurting just for a little while.

I don't want to feel that loss any more.

If training for VLM these past 6 months has shown me anything it's that anything is possible if you try hard enough. I look back at the days I went out training over the winter, when freezing rain fell and icy winds cut me to the core. The days when I really wanted to stay inside with the family and keep warm, but instead went out and trained. Running in the dark. Running in the snow. Running over icy pavements. Running when tired. Running when hungry. I've done it all. I'm not the person I was when I started my VLM journey. I have evolved somehow, in ways that weren't obvious at the time but are clear when you look back. The impossible has become possible. To borrow a quote from a post my friend, Rohan Kallicharan, shared on Facebook today:

"A new journey will begin, one in which you will never again doubt yourself, and in which you will know that you can achieve everything to which you set your mind."

So I'm going to go to my occupational health interview, and I will be honest about everything I have been through. And rather than let my past illness destroy the person I hope to become, I will use it to show them why I have so much to bring the medical world, and maybe, just maybe, my final wish will come true.

The phoenix rising from the ashes

Taper time!

It's the final countdown!
Ok, hands up, who's singing this song right now?!
https://youtu.be/9jK-NcRmVcw

Two weeks left to go! In two weeks I will have run in my first marathon, I will have been part of one of the world's most iconic marathon's history, and I will have life membership into one of the most elite clubs that only 1% of the world's population ever joins.....I will be a marathoner! All that stands between me and the finish line is 2 weeks of tapering and fuelling. Oh yes and 26.2 miles....

This week was the first week I've properly been able to get back into training since my tonsillitis and Ashby 20. It started off on Easter Sunday with a "gentle" 5k around Wollaton Park. I don't usually post Garmin pictures, but I am today because I was properly proud of that effort. I was still not back to full health and had eaten an Easter roast only 2 hours before, so a 27 minute 5k is pretty awesome, and check out my final speed of 7 minute miles! It was on completing that run that I realised I'm back in the game. The following day I did body combat then headed out for a run, but it turned into a walk because I wanted to appreciate the beauty of Darley Park in the spring sunshine. Everything looks so much better in the sun, and sometimes it's good just to slow down a bit and take it all in. It was a day for quiet contemplation on Monday.

Tuesday was super mega exciting; I got a train down to London and met my mum at St Pancras, then went to find the London Marathon Store. I've been wanting to visit that ever since being accepted as a Mind runner for VLM. I had 2 opportunities to go to a Mind training day which would've had me go there much sooner, but I was unable to make those days. It didn't disappoint. Although not as big as I'd anticipated, it was like going into a sweet shop for runners. There were shoes of every different colour imaginable, and normal Sweatshop clothing along with VLM15 branded clothing. They had a wall containing all the medals that have been produced since the London Marathon began on March 29th 1981, and a big display outlining the route the marathon takes. Along with a very effervescent sales lady who proudly told me she was running this year with a Good For Age place, it was a wonderful experience. It feels like I have ventured into another world. A year ago I was dabbling about in running, I don't even think I'd signed up to Race For Life yet, but then flash forwards to now and I'm tapering for my first marathon. It's just bizarre!

On Wednesday I had my PT session that was postponed from the previous week when I was poorly, and although I was initially worried that I wasn't yet back up to par after being unwell, I stormed Toton hill and managed to impress TT, so that's always a good sign you're doing something right! That was a really good session for me, because I'd been worrying that even if my body recovered from the tonsillitis, all the progress I had made psychologically at Ashby, such as my belief in myself, would have backslid a bit. And I probably do worry too much about everything, but when something is so close you can almost reach out and touch it and then an obstacle gets shoved in the way, that's when I really struggle mentally. But doing better than ever on those hills reaffirmed that I am on the right track, which if nothing else is a really good thing for TT because I won't be flapping at him for the next 2 weeks about time running out! Friday saw me doing a quick kettlebells session - my first of that kind in almost a year - and then relaxing and stretching with the new body balance release.

Saturday dawned somewhat more cloudy than the week, but I was up and out of bed quickly because it was the day of my final long run. 22 miles to be exact. Sarah was coming over and we were going to tackle the miles together before we could start to taper. I was aware that my food intake the previous few days had been abysmal, my sleep had been poor, I ached from the kettlebells, and my  stress levels in general were high. But that wouldn't be a problem, right?! I've done it all before, my body knows the distance, and it's not as though we were racing it, it'd just be nice and steady.

Idiot.

To start with, despite asking TT what he recommended I wear, I thought I knew better when I popped outside and it seemed quite warm, so I went for a vest top and not a short sleeved one. As we left the house it was a bit brisk in the wind, but all in all I was happy enough.

20m up the road, so far so good...

We warmed up then started off in a trot. I was immediately aware that my legs were very unhappy after what I had thought was an upper body workout with kettlebells, but I'm now realising involved more lower body than anticipated. But I'm stubborn, so I ignored them. 2 miles up the road I started to get a bit whingy; my legs were murder and I was FREEZING. Why oh why had I not listened to TT's advice?! After a quick call home, we decided to turn around and go back so I could take more painkillers and put on something warmer. As soon as we turned around I felt better, which really brings to light the whole homing pigeon instinct I have (along with many other runners I expect). There is something psychologically lifting about running towards home. But on reaching home we'd already notched up 5 miles, so only 17 left to do. A quick clothes change and refuelling with some lucozade and an energy gel later, we were back out the door, this time to Wollaton deer park as I reckoned I needed to run in a place that relaxes me. Besides, I had to introduce Sarah to Bambi's family!

Mmm sugar!

It was on approaching the park that the full sugar hit of the energy gel reached my brain, and I was back in my wappy, sweating sparkles, jazz hands sugar high. Things started to get easier then! For one thing I had Sarah in stitches which certainly lightened the mood and made the run more enjoyable. I have no idea why I adopt a "Russian" accent when under the influence of vast amounts of glucose, but it's sure as hell entertaining! We stormed round the next few miles, slowly notching them up. Sarah decided to turn off her Garmin and just run, so I took on the role of time/distance checker. I don't mind doing that, it doesn't fill me with anxiety like it does to some people, and I'm too much of a control freak to not know how we're doing. It was hard in one respect though, because I was acutely aware that my children would be getting home shortly after 5 days with their grandma so I was time watching, but I was also aware that this was my last chance to run this distance before VLM itself. As it happened I barely got a second glance for the kiddlywinks when I finally did arrive home, so it was right to stay out, however difficult and distracting it was at the time. 

All in all it was a fairly non-remarkable 22 mile run. We didn't race it, we had to walk some especially when Sarah hurt her leg, but that didn't matter; we were out there, doing the distance, ticking off that mental check list in our heads. It wasn't an essential run to do, but I needed to do it to be ready for taper. I did get really close to a deer though, within touching distance. It's so incredible how tame they are, so amazing to share their world for a fleeting moment. So yeah, we bumbled round 22 miles, not setting any records but it was fun, and more to the point, it was 22 miles in the legs.

Damn you lorries!

This morning I woke up and holy hell, I didn't just feel like I'd been run over by an HGV like it often does after a mega long run, it felt like that HGV had brought all his HGV friends along for the ride as well! My hamstrings in particular are murderous; I am currently less flexible than TT in that department which is saying something!! I cringe every time I have to sit down and stand up, and the thought of body combat tomorrow makes me wince a little, but it's a good kind of pain. It means my muscles have worked and will be stronger as a result, and I will be glad of that running 26.2 miles.

So today wasn't just the start of my tapering and fuelling prior to the marathon, it was something else entirely. It was the day of Brighton and Paris marathons, and I knew a lot of people taking part in both. My lovely, lovely friend Caroline was running Brighton for Hope For Children, and I have always been a staunch supporter of hers. She always impresses me, she's always inspired me, plus she gives me a much needed kick up the bum at times. A load of the Mind team were running Brighton also, so we Londoners were glued to the app which tracked their progress, sending out virtual cheers and encouragement and just cementing the already-tight bonds within the team. There was such a lovely feeling of camaraderie, and as someone who has spent so much of her life feeling on the edge of everything, it was wonderful to feel like part of such a great team.

But more than just the wonderful sense of being part of something today, I saw first hand how eating disorders can dramatically affect performance in an endurance event such as a marathon, and I've decided to give it everything to get as well fuelled as possible in the next 2 weeks. I'm fully expecting to be miserable a lot of the time; I feel like a beached what after one day of "bordering normal" intake. That's not anywhere near pre marathon requirements, but it's better than my usual intake. 2 weeks of feeling disgusting Vs a lifetime of feeling proud......I've got to do the food thing really. I don't want to come away from my biggest ever sporting achievement feeling ashamed of my performance or - even worse - knowing I could've done a lot better had I only eaten.

However, in seeing all the photographs of people pre and post race and all the lovely comments, I have come to a decision about 2016: I want to run Brighton marathon in the April, then run (if I am so blessed as to get another place) VLM the following week. Had Brighton stayed 2 weeks before VLM it would've been less chllenging, but I'm stubborn and I'm determined, and if some people can run a marathon back to back over 2 days, what's to stop me running two a week apart?! And yes, I am aware that it's probably insane and totally overly ambitious, but back in October I called this blog "Dream the Impossible" because the concept of me running a marathon seemed about as likely as my horse being a unicorn.....2 weeks to go and it's not looking so impossible now. I want my children to grow up knowing that, no matter how big their dreams may be, if you really work hard at it, anything is possible. As TT says, there's no such word as "can't".

Countdowns and stigma

Time is running out.....

Tomorrow there will be 3 weeks left until the day that I have been working towards for over 6 months, and dreaming of for most of my life. And the crazy thing is, whenever I imagine being there on the day all I can envisage is giggling like a child with complete disbelief that I am actually doing the London Marathon!!!

3 weeks. Oh boy.

To add to the whole sense of time running out, I have been out of action all week with a bad bout of tonsillitis, much like the bout I had before Christmas. However this close to VLM I don't have the time to lose a week to illness! My planned 22 mile run on Monday has had to be pushed back a few days so I can be certain that I'm well enough to tackle such a distance. I'm not even too fussed about times, I just want to get the miles into my legs and know that I can make the distance. I know I can race 20 miles, I proved that at Ashby, and to be honest this long run isn't even essential, but psychologically it will be very beneficial to do.

So in my building up my strength post infection I took the troops to Bramcote Park this morning. I've run through there so many times before, and have always wanted to take my family there and also let Barney have a romp. And it was fab, the children loved running through the woods and Barney bombed around with other dogs for ages. With some energy remaining along with a desire to get the screen protector on my phone renewed (it makes me go a bit OCD when it starts peeling), I hopped on a bus to town. I discovered my iPod in my handbag so decided to listen to it, and it so happened it was still on my VLM training playlist. As soon as I heard some of those songs it was as though my legs came alive and in an almost Pavlovian type of response, my body felt primed ready to run. So much so that when I came across a pair of escalators with the "up" escalator blocked off for repairs, I decided to run up the "down" one (obviously without there being anyone going down first). It felt a bit like going on a treadmill, and I did get a little clap at the top! These legs want to run! So I think that tomorrow, once family Easter stuff has been done during the morning, I'll pop off out and try to get the momentum going again.

It's been a bad couple of weeks for people with mental illness. Just as the work of Mind and similar charities has begun to raise the profile of mental illness in the public eye, in a bid to remove the stigma, suddenly that profile has gone crashing down alongside the Germanwings plane co-piloted by Andreas Lubitz. Nobody could know why Lubitz decided to crash a plane containing 150 passengers and full crew into the French Alps, but once it was discovered that he had suffered with depression, the press had a field day. The Daily Fail, err, sorry, Mail, Splashed across it's front page "Why on earth was he allowed to fly" in relation to his history of depression.

The response from Mind was as follows:
Clearly assessment of all pilots’ physical and mental health is entirely appropriate - but assumptions about risk shouldn't be made across the board for people with depression, or any other illness. There will be pilots with experience of depression who have flown safely for decades, and assessments should be made on a case by case basis. 

Believe it or not, despite a long history of depression myself, I have never felt the urge to kill myself taking over 150 people with me. That's not suicide, it's murder. When the two planes hit the Twin Towers in New York on 9/11, I don't recall the mental health of the hijackers being taken into account, and I refuse to comment on this. At the end of the day, they boarded a plane and sacrificed their own lives to kill many more people. Whether they had depression, anxiety, diabetes, hypertension, asthma, eczema or even ingrowing toenails, it doesn't matter! They were killers. As you can probably tell, this is an issue which really riles me! I have faced stigma a lot in my life. At university I was told I should "count myself lucky" I had been raped because it gave me a "valid reason" to be depressed. And that was from the sub dean. Years later I started training with ChildLine as a telephone counsellor, I was upfront right from the start about my history with anorexia and depression, and was told this was not a problem. However, fast forward a few months and I had passed the training with flying colours, only to be told that my mental health history made the branch supervisor uncomfortable so go home and don't return. I was completely healthy at that point, but the FEAR and STIGMA made someone in a position where she should know better, reject a good counsellor and leave me feeling worthless.

Stigma doesn't just work for people looking in; for years stigma has made me view myself as less than worthy, a lesser person than others. I never feel good enough, I feel like in a group of friends, I'm the "flaky" one. So I'm loud and bubbly and effervescent, and people like and respond to that. I have a quick wit and can make jokes up quickly, usually at my own expense, but I make friends easily. I'm a good, kind person, and I care about others. But get to know me and I'm a vulnerable, insecure mess who just wants to be liked. The mask always slips in the end. I know I'm not the only person who feels like this. I think that's why I have taken to running so much. My self-worth has slowly risen with every achievement. I know I walk taller and feel more confident because I know that my body is strong, my mind is strong, and I can get out there and run in the most abhorrent of conditions which would leave others sat in the warm on the sofa. I can mentally remain strong enough to get out there and run for hours when what I'd rather do is to stay with my children and play with them. I am a better person for running. I am a happier person for running.

So tomorrow I will get back out there and let my legs take me back to my happy place, where I can find some inner peace, and maybe even hunt down the Easter bunny!

Some thank yous

I've been thinking it's high time that I gave some of the people who have helped and supported me most along my journey to the start line of the London Marathon 2015 some recognition and thanks. I really hope I don't forget anybody, and they are in no particular order;

First of all I want to thank Nicola at www.monkeyfacemurals.co.uk for making me a beautiful medal hanger to house all the medals I have won to date. Anyone who knows me know I am very particular (picky!), and it has taken me many months to find something that's just me. I can highly recommend Nicola, she's so helpful and only too happy to help if she can. Here's the finished item with a hook left free for my VLM medal:

Made by www.monkeyfacemurals.co.uk

Next I'd like to thank Julie Talbot of Junction Hair and Beauty in Witney, Oxfordshire, for her very generous sponsorship. Julie runs a thriving hair and beauty salon with highly skilled technicians, and if you're ever in the area, she's definitely worth looking up. She was responsible for getting my skin in good condition for my wedding, although she'd have her work cut out for her right now as stress and training has made me resemble a teenager in the skin department!

My next thanks goes to Sarah and John Ward, who so generously gave up their time to help me organise a fundraising evening for my charity, Mind. Without that fundraiser I wouldn't have reached my target so easily, and thus been able to concentrate fully on the running side of things. Sarah has always been supportive of me, and I hope she knows how grateful I am to her for that kindness.

Logically then it follows that the next person I want to thank is my mother in law, Sonia Bartlett. It was watching Sonia battle breast cancer in the first place that made me wonder if I could run a Race For Life in her honour, and look where that ended up! Sonia comes up regularly and watches the children for me so I can go training or for a sports massage or whatever I need to do at that time. She has always championed me, and her never ending belief in me is incredible.

I'd also like to thank my parents, Cathy and And Black, who have also helped to look after the children so my husband can accompany me to races without having to have 3 small children in tow. I've always said I want to run VLM because I want to make my mum proud after being such a let down the rest of my life.

Janice Cook has also been lovely to me, providing a lot of the entertainment for my fundraising evening, sponsoring me, and generally just making me feel like she's got my back. Thank you to you too Janice.

My transformation from someone who runs a bit to a serious runner is largely down to my trainer "TT", Tim Taylor. I met Tim over 3 years ago when I was introduced to him through a mutual friend, Sue Woollett, and despite minimal contact with him over the years, I knew he was the right person to take me from recreational runner to marathoner. I was not wrong. I am able to contact him most of the time for emotional or practical support, depending on whether I am struggling to fuel up or just how far I should run that particular day. He has devised me a training plan that has transformed me as a runner. He is endlessly patient (very important when working with me!), knows everything you could want him to know about nutrition and training, and has become a good friend over the weeks. I should probably also thank his wife here too as she's generously allowed me to "borrow" him at weekends when a long run has gone badly and I need to debrief. Thank you Gin.

From one Tim to another, my GP Dr Tim Baker has always believed that I have the ability and tenacity to run a full marathon, and is always on hand to provide support when necessary. He's been my doctor for 13 years now, and has seen me through many darker days, along with my happier moments. He will be providing medical support at the VLM with his St John's Ambulance team, and I will be happy for him to share in my greatest achievement.

I owe a massive thanks to my husband Larry Higgs, with whom I sat down all those months ago and discussed whether he would be happy to support me should I get a place on the Mind team to run VLM. Every Sunday he takes the reins and looks after the children so I can do my long runs. Initially I was out for 2 hours, but these days I can be out for as long as 6 hours and he never begrudges it. He takes me to my races because I don't like driving when I'm exhausted afterwards, and always looks away when the bank statement comes in and there is payment for yet another running related thing on it! He also listens to me prattling on about intervals, fartleks, tempo runs, different fuelling methods and the like, and doesn't moan about the fact I am probably quite boring at times! I hope to be a good example to our children Benjamin, Samuel and Jessica, and want to inspire them that they can do anything if they want to enough.

I must thank the lovely Amanda Taylor and Alexa Hawkins-Bell who took a gamble on me and gave me a place in the VLM 2015 Mind team that made this whole journey possible. I can never thank you enough for enabling me to not only take part in a long-held dream of mine, but also to run for a cause that is so close to my heart.

Finally, my thanks go out to people who have particularly been there for me, especially since I have been struggling with my demons so much recently. These people include, but are not limited to, Jane Robson, Sarah Colburn, Sue Woollett, Caroline Loach, Michelle Freeman, Sue Walker, Jo Baker, Rachel Harber, Sarah-Jane Nutting, Katherine Wilson, the NWR ladies, the RMR girls, Holly Parkin, the Mind team, and if your name isn't mentioned but you're reading this, thank you to you too.  

"She believed she could....so she did!"