And then I joined Caistor Running Club...

and my life changed forever.  Not that I knew it at the time.  Funnily enough there is a swimming connection there too.  After the Race for Life I decided I wanted to continue running.  The problem was, without the incentive of the race I became very uninspired and every time I felt like having a little rest and walking - I did.  So off I would go for a 3 to 4 mile run and during that time I would start walking every time the going got tough, or I got bored, or both. Not good. Fortuitously, that summer I spotted a photograph in our local paper.  A new running club had started in our local town and who should be grinning out of the photo but someone in my swimming class.  I kept the page.   I emailed the contact name and tentatively asked if I could come along.  They were very encouraging and yet I was too afraid to go.  I found excuse after excuse until I realised that I was in danger of talking myself out of it altogether. Why?  Well I thought that they must all be way beyond my standard and I would make a complete fool of myself for even thinking I could be part of it.  I have known runners in the past and they were all, without exception, extremely fit, fast, focused and competitive. Plus had been running for years and years.  Everything I wasn't, in fact.

I decided to give myself a Mitchell brothers - type talking to.  "Oy! Woss goin' on?  Get in there you lightweight!'  And so one Thursday night in October I took one tentative step and plunged into Wonderland. All I can remember is that we ran to Nettleton as far as the street lamps went and then we ran off somewhere else.  They were mainly men, in fact I'm not sure if remember any ladies, and they were very friendly.  They tried to chat with me but I'm afraid that talking and running were not possible at that stage in the game.  The extra effort of doing that nearly finished me off.  I went home the colour of rhubarb and it took three hours for the colour to fade from my face. Strangely enough I recall feeling very motivated and that although the session had been the hardest thing for me, I knew I would go back. The next session was on a Saturday morning. 8.30 am!!! If you know me you know I am very fond of my lie-ins so I can't tell you what a wrench that was.  Still I am very glad I went because that is the day I met T.  What an inspirational lady.  She was in her fifties and was new to running too although she was able to do longer distances than me.  She was just what I needed, great company to run with and full of tales.  We ended up doing 7 miles, the longest I had ever run.  First lesson of Caistor Running Club - whenever anyone tells you the length of a run don't forget to add 20% at least.

The next Thursday another lady, J, turned up.  Once again we were a similar age and level so we ran together very well and I felt really good about being part of the club. I distinctly remember the way we would need to walk up the hills and how one club member had told me that he used to do the same when he started but now he was able to keep going.  I didn't believe that would happen to me of course. I wondered if I would ever stop slightly dreading the club sessions.  'Dreading?' you say, 'why would you go to something if you hated it?' Yes it does seem ridiculous doesn't it? It wasn't that I hated it, it was just that I knew it was going to be hard and I never knew if that was going to be the day that I would decide I just wasn't up to it.  What I did know is that I never ever regretted going and that every time I went made me a better runner.  Not to mention the great company of course.  Everyone was so supportive and so encouraging of what, to some of them, must really have been the most basic of achievements.  Ooh! Well breathed there!
Nobody ever made me feel useless or inconvenient and believe me there was often quite a bit of waiting for me to catch up. Or times when someone would have sacrificed their own run to trot along next to me the silent, staring, huffing, hunched figure. Of course even though I'm singing their praises you have to know that they did try to kill me on Mansgate Hill.  But they did not succeed! Even though I did go home and climb into a sleeping bag on the sofa and sleep for two hours. And they did have me run across a field of cows which decided to chase.  That's one way of getting your speed up but I wouldn't recommend it. Slowly week by week I started to improve...

Race for Life 2011

And so it was that I eventually started to be able to run for 3 miles. Oh boy was that an achievement. Still on grass fields and still alone. I didn't think I could stand anyone witnessing the pure torture that running caused me.  The Race for Life was imminent.  I received the race pack and got all excited about having a race number. I didn't even know how to pin it to my shirt!  I read the race instructions avidly and then the day arrived.  I cannot emphasise what a massive deal it was for me. It was boiling hot! Hmmmmm.  I felt so out of place as we walked into the start area.  It was packed! I've never seen so much pink! Not since I fell in that vat of Gaviscon, Actually I didn't. It was extremely emotional though because everywhere you looked there were stories of ill and lost loved ones. There was a warm up routine going on and I'm partial to a bit of Zumba so I joined in very enthusiastically.  Possibly too enthusiastically, imagine injuring yourself before you even start?  Then when the race was about to start the call came to join either 'Runners', 'Joggers' or 'Walkers'.  A dilemma.  Where to be?  Definitely not a runner but also definitely not a walker.  So I decided to join the back of the runners and the start of the joggers.  And then we were off and I was running the first race of my life and it was on concrete. I found myself overtaking people. Then I noticed some people were starting to walk.  'No way!' I thought.  I was not going to walk, I had come here to run the Race for Life and that was exactly what I was going to do whatever happened.  Then I came around the path around the boating lake and there were my family.  They were amazed to see me so soon.  I kept going and spotted the next km marker.  Then I knew we were heading for the finish and I could hear the tannoy and the crowd.  I gave it my all and as I spotted the clock in the distance I saw it had a 29 on the front and I thought 'If I can just get in before 30 mins...'.  I sprinted like mad and made it.  Then I burst into tears.  And got my medal and bag and a bottle of water.  So I walked off and tried to pull myself together.

It was the most wonderful thing I had achieved and it meant so much as I lost my father to cancer when I was 12 and I have missed him every day of my life. As I walked back to meet my family and we continued along the seafront, we passed a lady walking with a drip and accompanied by two paramedics.  You cannot help but be humbled by the people who take part in this wonderful race.  Nor can you comprehend just how many women have become runners as a result of it.

How it all started...

It occurred to me that anyone reading this blog might not appreciate how my story began.  In fact I started this blog when I began to train for my first half marathon the Great Birmingham Run in 2012.  At that time it was the most incredible challenge and I thought that writing the blog, and attaching it to my fundraising site, would keep me on track. But it wasn't the start of it.  Oh no. let me take you back some 6 or 7 years... (cue wavy lines....)

It didn't start with running.  It started with swimming.  Most of my life I have swum a kind of breaststroke that I made up myself.  I would tell you all about how I didn't learn to swim until I was 9 years old on account of an incident but I haven't time here.  Anyway I merrily swam with a schoolfriend as a teenager and then continued at university as a leisure pursuit. I swam all through my pregnancies like a shiny black bowling ball bobbing along on my back. We have a pool about 10 mins away so that is perfect.  One day I noticed a sign that said 'Adults Improvers Course - improve your stroke or learn a new one'.  Wow! I thought.  I'd always wanted to know how to swim front crawl.  My usual attempt involved thrashing from side to side whilst flailing my arms windmill-style and gasping like a fish. So I signed up for it.  I have to confess to feeling very nervous.  Rightly so because when I turned up I realised that there were only 3 of us that weren't already able to do the front crawl.  By the way they call it freestyle these days! The teacher said  'OK 4 lengths to warm up'. I couldn't even do 1 length let alone warm up with 4.  I think she got the measure of us by the end of that lesson.  Needless to say we then set about a programme of breaking the stroke down. Lengths of kicking only, lengths of single arm reaches and pulls until eventually we could bring it all together.  Even so I found it very difficult and wondered if I would ever be able to swim a whole length. Every week I would return home with a beetroot red face. It say something when your teacher says to you as you reach the end of the pool, gasping and wheezing, 'Are you alright?' - I think she was seconds away from pressing the buzzer.  Anyway weeks passed by and I began to feel really good about myself. One length turned into two then four.  Then another challenge.  We needed to learn to tumble-turn.  Now that means doing a full forward roll UNDER THE WATER.  Yes.  I know.  Madness. In fact, I was too scared to do it.  So I bought myself a noseclip and I took my young sons swimming and asked them to teach me.  My youngest was so sweet. 'Just like this Mum' he said, flipping over and then surfacing with a huge beam on his chops.  How could I not do it?  I had sent them to swimming lessons and encouraged them to get over their fears and do their best.  How could I now not follow that same advice?  So deep breath and  - whoa! I did it and it was OK! I did it a few more times.  And then I got even more brave and tried it without the clip.  A very strange feeling and, if you get it wrong with your breathing, a fairly horrid one. Weeks later and another challenge - diving from the side of the pool.  Once again more fear and more practising with my sons.  So you get the picture, over and over I was doing new things, things I never thought I would ever be able to do, and I was actually doing them.  Me! Remember this point - it's an important one.
So where does the running come in?  Well I realised that the reason I was finding front crawl so hard was because of my breathing.  I hadn't got enough stamina so I wondered whether starting to run might help me get better at the breathing.

Cue the Race for Life.  My sister had done this a couple of years ago and I was so impressed that she had trained and run it as, like me, we are not sporty types.  Not that I was immediately inspired to do it.  Oh no.  I had no desire to run.  Too many bad memories of cross country and sports days.  That was definitely one thing you would never catch ME doing .  No sir!  However, I wanted to get better at swimming and I was secretly jealous of my sister's wonderful achievement and so I thought 'OK. This is a really good cause and I should do this'.  So I went on the Internet and found a plan to start running from scratch.  I seem to recall it was all about getting up to running for 15 mins non stop over about 6 weeks.  By the way when I say I was not a sporty type I did still do stuff like Step Aerobics (way back in the day - shiny blue footless tights/ leotard - the works!) , go to the gym, swimming and walking.  In fact when I was a young woman I looked a heck of a lot sportier than I actually was, people would often ask me if I was and I, of course, looked at them as if they were mad.  In fact I think it is a great shame that many people, and particularly girls, are turned off sport at school.  Poor short sighted, uncoordinated, awkward  me. We were not allowed to wear spectacles during ball games.  Very useful. No wonder I was so useless at netball and volleyball.  Somebody would shriek my name, I'd spin round and by the time the ball came into focus it would be about two inches from my face.  Yes I am that shortsighted.  Contact lenses have played a huge part in my ability to enjoy sport. Unfortunately I didn't have them until I was 20.

So running.  I didn't tell anyone I was doing it and I deliberately chose places where NO-ONE would see me.  Talk about guilty secret.  I would walk along the road to the farm lane so that no cars would see me and then I would start the run/walk programme.  Taking great care to always walk past the two cottages halfway down  in case anyone was looking out the window.  I would stop in front of the cowsheds and do a few stretches. The cows were very intrigued. Especially the mini-me mini- moos. I was quite a sight.  Gasping and wheezing and purple in the face.  And so I would pursue this programme.  Initially I would be running along and darting looks at my watch willing the time to be up so I could walk again.  It would take the full walking time for me to get my breath back at all. I remember those days so clearly.  The first time I ran for 5 minutes nonstop was incredible! The aim was to run 5k.  The Race for Life was in July 2011.  It took me 7 months to get there.

Socks, chocs and Shot BLOKS

It's getting closer by the day and the excitement is mounting.  I feel a bit like a hive of bees, quietly and ominously buzzing.  Suddenly, inconsequential things have taken on massive significance.  Socks for example.  I'm a little afeared of the agony of the uncushioned foot.  Didn't have any problem up till now but then on that last half marathon I suffered the unknown foot pain. Now I am surrounded by three new pairs of different types of sock and no proper time to roadtest! Hah.  Could be the least of my problems.

Last weekend was wonderful.  We hosted the club run.  I had walked it earlier in the week to check that we weren't all going to disappear in the boggy bit by the railway line.  Fortunately despite recent rain everywhere was passable.  Saturday arrived and so did the sun.  The run was very pleasant and two of our ladies, who haven't been able to join us for various reasons for quite a while, were able to come.  It was wonderful to have them both back on board.  Then back to ours for sausage buns, cake and copious tea.  Sitting in the garden for goodness sake! In March! Mr Leggy and The Young did a sterling job of providing and serving up all fodder.  The birthday celebrations just keep going.  I had made three cakes from the oracle that is - Mary Berry.  We're not worthy... we're not worthy.... 'Crunchy Top Lemon Cake' aka lemon drizzle cake aka lemony loaf. Chocolate Victoria Sandwich and - from the 'Healthy Cakes' section' - Carrot Cake'.  Healthy cakes?  Who the heck is interested in a healthy cake?  I have to confess being a tad worried about it because I'd never made it before and I'd grated the carrots without thinking about it.  When I looked in the bowl I realised that maybe I should have grated it finer and that the whole cake mixture was looking worryingly like coleslaw! It all disappeared though so it must have been OK. It was wonderful to spend time in such great company.

So now this week I have been relaxing as best I can.  This means lying around on the sofa and scoffing chocolate.  Not too much.  It's just that I have had a few very tasty treats for my birthday and I'm only human.

Talking of inconsequential things - I also realised that my waist bag was nowhere near big enough to carry all the stuff I want to have with me. Mainly because I want to have my phone and my iPod and I've calculated I'll need at least 3 packs of Shot BLOKS. I haven't got time to try out any new stuff so I've got another small bag and I've going to wear one on each hip like a gunslinger! Draw! I'll have to practise my technique, twizzling the packets round  and slamming them back in the bags.