tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48365956238105325972024-03-13T03:34:27.064-07:00Running With DianeInspired by one woman's courageAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.comBlogger52125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-91593314476210510342018-11-21T22:36:00.000-08:002018-11-21T22:36:02.903-08:00The benefits of foresightThis blog comes with a warning: This is one of those which I'm worried I’ll look
back on in 12 months’ time and think, ‘How naïve was I to write that’, ‘That is
so superficial’. I expect to be cringing and hiding my head in my hands when I do.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I hope I don’t. I hope the points I make are still valid and stay valid.
But I know the problem that has me pre-occupied at the moment is far more
complex than I can imagine right now. I've learned so much in such a short space of time in the weeks since I started university that I know it probably won't take long for this piece to become outdated.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
More learning, greater discovery might indeed make this early contribution obsolete. But it’s important to remember where we
started when we calculate how far we have come so I expect to be doing a little
reflection on that this time next year, too.</div>
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I need to get down in writing where my thoughts are now so I can hopefully look back and see how far I’ve come in the future. Maybe I’ll manage a smile instead of a wince. Maybe a ‘How quaint’ instead of a ‘How naïve’.</div>
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So bear with me. Even make excuses for me, if you’re feeling
particularly warm and generous in the future. Remember, I was doing my best
when I wrote this!</div>
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Now back to the issue that I’m grappling with. A few weeks
ago, I met a young guy. I say met, but he doesn’t exist. He was one of six
fictitious characters with different qualities, traits and issues we were given
as part of an exercise in how we regard different people in society.<o:p></o:p></div>
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They all had qualities to test our empathic responses. Some
were certainly easier to like than others.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It was an exercise in prejudice as much as anything. In
counselling, we have been told, there can be no room for judgement, no
preconceptions, no ‘verdicts’ on our clients. But this one young guy who stood
out among the six examples was testing a lot of people’s ability to be
impartial.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The subject was described as ‘a 19-year-old unemployed man
who has been on benefits for the past six months. He says that he
is fed up of the way his mother keeps going on about how he should get a job.
He says he spends much of the day in bed and that it is really the Government’s
fault that he hasn’t got a job.’<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sounds familiar to many people. It feeds into the general
conception that there are a lot of people out there like this young man who are
takers, not givers who believe everything should be handed to them on a plate,
that the world owes them a day in bed, every day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It’s a view held by people who believe they have earned
everything they have, that they have had to graft for the nice things in life,
for the odd day in bed, which is a chance to recover from all the effort we
have put in improving our lives and contributing to society. The exact opposite
of this young man. We need a malaise in society, we need to look down on people
as wasters to increase our sense of self-importance. To make us feel better
about ourselves.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But of all the six characters we were introduced to when we
met him, this guy appealed to me the most as someone I would love to help.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For a start, I do not believe anyone wants to be a failure (you
know I hate to use that word but occasionally it gets the message across
efficiently). Nobody wants to be unsuccessful. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The first thing about him that struck me was that he wasn’t
happy spending most of time in bed arguing with his mother. There’s no joy in
his situation. Just inertia. A sense of emptiness, lack of purpose and low
self-esteem. To me, he longs to get out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He doesn’t want to fight his mother but he can’t let her win
or his self-esteem, his sense of self-worth will be even lower than it is
already. He must blame the Government for his situation. He cannot pile any
more burden on himself. He feels enough guilt already about his situation
already.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But all he is conscious of is hearing his mother’s nagging
and hearing people – politicians, neighbours, strangers – put him down all the
time. ‘Get a job!’ ‘Get a life!’ What he really needs to get is help. And
someone to show him his true self.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Back to my core beliefs. Here’s one - we are all capable of
far more than we imagine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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No-one dies having achieved everything in life they were
meant to. Whatever age you die, whether it’s tragically young or tragically
old, it’s always tragically because everyone dies at some point on a journey
that never ends.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What we need to do is make the most of what time we are
given on that never-ending journey. To make every step count and to always move
forwards.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sounds very grand. Now back to our young man in bed. Deep
down, he wants to be a success. Everyone does. He wants to feel better about
himself today than he did yesterday. He wants to make every step count but he
can’t bring himself to put one foot in front of the other. When we discover
what is stopping him, something even he isn’t conscious of, we can overcome it
and he’ll suddenly find his way out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It could be his mother has been over-critical of him since
he was a child. That night be just one of several layers to peel back as we
talk. But I firmly believe once he is aware of where his lethargy comes from,
he’ll be able to get his life back … and, most importantly, on his terms.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So out of all the six characters I was introduced to, he is
the one I want to help the most. If we are more understanding of our troubled
teenagers we can save society a lot of pain, money and resentment when we try
to solve their problems in adulthood. By then they are more deep-rooted and
difficult to get at.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At this stage of my journey, it doesn’t sound naïve to me. I hope,
in a year’s time, it still doesn’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-76939718669897870162018-09-21T14:13:00.000-07:002018-09-21T14:13:29.627-07:00Tale of the unexpected<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It's a while since the last post but a lot has happened. Both emotionally and professionally it has been a period of great change. On Monday the Running With Diane story takes its latest twist as I begin a degree course at university.</div>
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At my age? Why not. It's a dream, but it's not a pipe dream. It's very real, and it gets very, very real on Monday..</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There’s a difference between day-dreaming and dreaming big. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Day-dreamers wake up too late to grab their chance as the
opportunity passed them by without them noticing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dreamers who dream big, on the other hand, create the
opportunity in order to chase their dreams. They don’t allow anyone to tell them
they can’t, that the dream is out of reach. If it is not to be, then I’ll make
sure I am the one who finds out. I’ll not rely on someone else’s doubts about
my ability.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At my age, becoming a full-time student at university is
unorthodox, I admit. But age is no barrier to having a dream, nor should it
ever be. And age should never stop you chasing your dream.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To tinker with one of George Bernard Shaw's more famous quotes, ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We don’t stop
dreaming because we grow old, we grow old because we stop dreaming’</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So the secret is, ‘Never stop dreaming’. Because then we’ll
never grow old. Of course our bodies will weaken and our times over 100 metres
might start to look less impressive, but between the ears we will never grow old.
And between the ears is our most important bit.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m in a familiar place this weekend, standing at the foot
of a mountain and daring to look up. I can’t see the top, it’s up in the clouds
somewhere. But I can see the first ledge I need to get to. It’s called Semester
1.<o:p></o:p></div>
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From there, I’ll get a better view of the second ledge (no
prizes for guessing what that’s called). If I successfully reach every
ledge it means I will at some point reach the summit. What a day that
promises to be in three years’ time if I stick to my one-ledge-at-a-time
approach. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The latest challenge is probably the toughest yet by some
margin. If I reach the top, I will have a BSc (Hons) degree in Psychology
& Counselling from the University of Salford. <o:p></o:p></div>
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To experience university life has been a long-held dream of
mine, ever since I squandered the opportunity more than four decades ago. I’ve
become a full-time student at a time in life many are contemplating a more relaxing
future.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But one of my favourite tenets is, ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Never be the person they expect you to be’</i>. </div>
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Make sure you take control of what happens next in your life. Don’t hand the
job to someone else.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The latest challenge ticks quite a few of my ‘mantra’
chart-toppers…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Never lose the urge to challenge yourself<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Never put a ceiling on what you can achieve, you’re capable of far more
than you could ever imagine<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aim further than you can reach<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You’re never too old, too young, too fat, too thin<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Look up and not down, ahead and not behind<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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This new chapter is exciting and daunting in equal measure,
which usually means it’s a proper test of mettle. The first steps of the
climb take place on Monday. Let’s see how high we reach…<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-29599347062730679092017-02-06T15:06:00.001-08:002017-02-06T15:06:12.916-08:00Together, forever<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s difficult to imagine it’s four years since Diane left. It never seems to get any easier to deal with her not being here. Maybe it never
will. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The anniversary of her passing every February 6 will always be difficult. It
still feels so cruel on her. She did not deserve to suffer the way she did in
those final weeks. No-one deserves that. In those final days, she knew her
light was dying, that the flame was flickering now and would soon dim and go
out. Luckily she slept much as the end drew near, hopefully dreaming of being
well, of being happy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Who knows what we dream about in that moment when we are
caught between life and death. I hope she is still dreaming now, four years on and forever more. </div>
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The emptiness I feel because she is no longer
here beside me is just a part of it. Add to that all the guilt – the belief
that I could have done more, could have cared more and done more when she was there beside me,
that is another part of it. Then there's the thought that I should have been able
to fix her. That's what I was there for and I was helpless, hopeless, unable to stop it taking her from me. Finally, there’s the sorrow I feel imagining the pain she must have
suffered. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every February 6 all these emotions start swirling around
with an extra intensity, forming an emotional maelstrom that leaves the brain
in a mush for a couple of days. Most other days, the waters are calmer and while the
same emotions exist at all times, they only come together in that kind of 'perfect
storm' on notable days and anniversaries. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
But it’s OK. That’s the way it is and that’s probably the
way it will always be. In a way, I hope it is. I want these emotionally-charged days when everything I feel and have ever felt for Diane comes together in a
moment of shared intensity. It proves she is still alive in my heart and soul. It proves we'll stay together, forever.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-66526861118828870592017-01-10T15:27:00.000-08:002017-01-10T15:27:11.882-08:00Small steps to a big changeNew Year, New Me. We all make this year - whichever year it happens to be - the one when we sort ourselves out. When we finally go on that diet and get healthy.<br />
Never quite works out like that, does it? Well, this year is going to be different. Here's what you need to remember if you want to make a real change and, more importantly, make it stick.<br />
Firstly you need to want it. The fact that you made a resolution means you know you need to change. But needing to and wanting to are two different things. Without the desire, the drive, the determination to take charge of your own future, you'll struggle.<br />
Look in the mirror. Look at the person looking back at you in the glass. Challenge that person to prove you're strong enough to do this and every time you look in that mirror tell it again and again that you will prove how good you can look.<br />
You want to look in the mirror and say Wow not Ow!<br />
Remember, changing your life for the better is a positive move. It is not about giving anything up, it's about giving yourself something new. It's not about depriving yourself of anything it's about enriching your life, living life to the full in a way you've never done before. It's a positive move, not a negative one.<br />
The change won't only be physical. You will have a new spring in your step, your mood will improve, you'll sleep better, get tired less easily.<br />
This is not just about a diet. It's not just about losing weight. It's not just about numbers on a set of scales. It's about becoming a person you can be proud of, a person who has taken charge of their own destiny, and taken charge of what happens to you next.<br />
Establish where you are now and mark this as your starting point. Tell yourself that this is the last time you'll be this way. Now start your exciting journey forward.<br />
Aim small to begin with. When I began my journey to the new me, I was 24-and-a-half stone. That was four years ago. I couldn't walk on the treadmill for more than a minute before stopping on my first visit to the gym. Was I discouraged? No. My goal was to last two minutes as soon as I could. Then three, four, maybe one day five minutes. Just over 12 months later I completed my first marathon having lost eight stone in the process. If I'd started on that first visit saying I wanted to run a marathon, only being able to do a minute walking on the treadmill would have made me feel utterly deflated.<br />
As it was, I accepted where I was and I challenged myself to be able to do more tomorrow and so on. Gradually five minutes walking became four minutes walking and one minute "trotting". Then gradually the trotting lasted longer than the walking - then the trotting turned into jogging and the jogging turned into running. Then came the day I ran for 15 minutes on the treadmill without walking at all. I felt on top of the world. All by accepting how bad I was at the beginning and taking small, realistic steps to slowly improving myself.<br />
As for food, we all know what's bad for us. Choose healthy options, cut down your portions, structure your meal times and snack times and stick to them. Nuts instead of crisps, brown rice instead of white potatoes, sweet potato chips instead of chippy chips. Fruit instead of pudding and home-made veg and fruit smoothies any time you like.<br />
The more you achieve, the more incentive you will have to push on. The momentum of achievement means your progress will accelerate as you improve yourself and see the changes for yourself.<br />
Small steps, patience and determination. That combination will make sure you succeed and make sure the changes you make last.<br />
New Year, New You. Little by little. <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-47540947611948625582016-11-14T09:39:00.000-08:002016-11-15T11:38:46.411-08:00Rising to your challenges<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_34gHBFA0NHBh3h1_G0Luqen-iM-5xMGRJuIyYkmnzzT4ZR8ZvoDSifOUBfppnxwv165NSDSnz6eng8ip0n0lwmgwa_gvBdNR7ExySUJy_gpu_4EvVcH7ILuLETkrOYHWoHn1rv0Cw8/s1600/hill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_34gHBFA0NHBh3h1_G0Luqen-iM-5xMGRJuIyYkmnzzT4ZR8ZvoDSifOUBfppnxwv165NSDSnz6eng8ip0n0lwmgwa_gvBdNR7ExySUJy_gpu_4EvVcH7ILuLETkrOYHWoHn1rv0Cw8/s640/hill.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
THERE’S something very magical about Rivington Pike. On a
good day you can stand beside it and it feels like you can see forever. On a
bad day, the mist gives it an eerie ethereal feel. Up there, you get a real sense
of the power of nature, good and fearsome.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The wind rises at the top at times threatening to blow you
off your feet, the temperature drops and it feels like you’re in a very dark,
foreboding place. Yet there is always – clear skies or misty gloom --an
unmistakable majesty about it. It is where the earth touches the heavens. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Challenging it to a one-on-one battle six times a day, five
days on the trot, is always going to be a contest heavily stacked in its
favour. It is not for the faint-hearted. But then, no challenge worth its salt
is ever achieved with a faint heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The sense of achievement should you rise to the challenge
and defeat this hell of a hill for even just one day let alone five consecutive
days, is life-changing. Five-in-five runners conquer this mystical peak 30
times to achieve victory, to stand at the top of this great hill as a
conqueror. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Welcome to the Hell of a Hill Marathon. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Twelve months ago, after I had completed one day of it, the
thought came to me to go for all five. I have rarely believed between then and
last week that I could do all five, certainly not at the first attempt, but the
thinking behind it was simple. I would start on the Wednesday and see how far I
got. I might not be able to do one this time round – I had no idea. I only
wanted to do my best, whatever that turned out to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Not knowing what your best is, that’s what makes us set
ourselves challenges. Then when we achieve
them, or as in my case this year, go further than I ever imagined myself
capable of going, we grow as people; we build our character..<o:p></o:p></div>
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That’s the magic of the Pike. It not only brings out the
best in you – it shows you a best that you never thought could exist. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I was privileged to share this challenge with - and run every day alongside - some of the most
incredible runners I have ever met. People of various shapes and sizes, but all sharing two things – an iron will not to be defeated and a physical strength
to withstand the pain the Pike can inflict when you challenge it again and
again, day after day. Awesome athletes, yes. But awesome characters, too. Every
one an inspiration.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This was my first attempt. I must get better if I’m to have
another chance. All I can hope is that every time I attempt it, I manage a
little more than last time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But that has always been the way. It is not just a lesson for gritty endurance
runners.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In April 2013, at over 24 stone, I lasted no more than a
minute walking on a treadmill on my first visit to the gym. I had no idea then
what I could achieve, what would be my “best” that day. I had no dreams to
climb a Pike. All I wanted on the next visit to the gym was to try to walk on
the treadmill for two minutes. Then three, then four… </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just as I had no idea
what I would manage as I stood at the start line in Wilcocks Caravan Park in
Rivington that cold Wednesday morning last week, so I had no idea when I
stepped on the treadmill three and a half years ago whether I would be able to
walk on it for a minute more than I'd done the day before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We all have our own challenges and our own agendas. If
we constantly strive to do the best we can, our best will continue to surprise
us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So my first attempt is broken down like this: Five days, started
every day. Two marathons, two 18-mile runs and one 9.5-mile run. A total of 98
miles. 22 laps of the Pike. 18,300ft of climb.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All because I dreamed three and a half years ago that I’d be
able to walk for more than a minute on the treadmill. And wasn’t prepared to
let it stop at that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
www.hillrunner.org.uk<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-37777963499262809982016-10-12T21:48:00.001-07:002016-10-13T01:44:09.247-07:00Good days, bad days... and how to cope with both<div class="MsoNormal">
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<br />
<br />
Some days are good, some not so much. I guess that is pretty
much the same for everyone to varying degrees. But when you lose someone to
cancer, the two become more starkly contrasting. It seems almost disrespectful
to have a good day when you’ve lost such an important person in your life so
cruelly.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But good days and bad days have nothing to do with emptiness
and loneliness. They have nothing to do with the actual loss. That gaping hole
in your life that is left will always be there. It’s right that it should
always be there. You learn to live with the emptiness, that’s your duty. But
the emptiness will never go away, how could it? How could someone that
important in your life go and it not make a difference to the rest of your life?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My life changed the moment Diane went. It will never be the
same again, even if I wanted to fill that gap, I wouldn’t be able to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is no need to fill the gap. My life is poorer for not
having Diane physically here to share the highs and lows of it with. But I must
simply accept it. I must learn to live with this black hole of emptiness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But don’t confuse emptiness with loneliness. The emptiness
becomes a part of your daily life. It is just something that exists, like a
sudden, unforeseen disability. You learn how to cope with it. Eventually it
becomes part of that which identifies you as who you are.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Loneliness is quite different. Whether you’re lonely or not
is entirely up to you. The future is the only thing in your control. Not the
past, that’s gone and cannot be altered. Surround yourself with friends, spend
as much time as you can with family, fill your life with people. People are the
cure for loneliness and eventually, if you’re lucky, one of those people will
emerge as the one you want to share all your life with, not just some of it. If
you’re lucky. I hope I will be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For now, I have more good days than bad. I can ask for no
more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even during the darkest times of Diane’s illness there were
good days. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day we got Bonny, the little King Charles Cavalier Diane
had always wanted and who became her constant companion through it all. That was one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day we thought we’d beaten the terrible disease. That
was a very good day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The day I realised we hadn’t beaten it was one of the worst.
One of many very bad days.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you start having good days, there is a sense of guilt,
a worry that you’re starting to forget her, to cope without her. Then you
realise those are two very different things.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will never forget her. The effect she had on my life, the
joy she brought, the happiness she gave me just by being there. I’ll never
forget any of that. But coping without her? That’s different. You learn to cope
with the hole in your life that she left. But that hole never gets any smaller.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, nearly four years on, I realise I will always have that
emptiness but It is possible to have fun, to enjoy life and to feel positive
about the future while still having this emptiness in your life. And I will not
feel guilty about having days when I feel like a million dollars. I know
there’ll be days when I feel the exact opposite so I’ll take the good stuff
whenever I can.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The emptiness reminds me what I lost and it is why I will
never forget the woman who was so much a part of my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been reminded of all this by a magazine article out
today, Thursday October 13 in all good, right-thinking supermarkets. Love It! magazine
are dedicating this issue to the fight against breast cancer and a portion of
the cover price will go to Breast Cancer Care, the charity closest to my heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The work they do to raise awareness of the disease and to
help the 50,000 women and men newly diagnosed with it each year is incredible.
We must never stop supporting them. I will never stop, thanks to Diane.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-79008565949989511862015-11-17T00:49:00.004-08:002015-11-18T03:23:45.732-08:00Set your dreams free<div class="MsoNormal">
Never put a ceiling on what you can achieve. Never put a
limit on what you believe you are capable of. Never say never.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s something I keep banging on about but it’s so
frustrating when people convince themselves they’ve done all they can, that
they’ve no more to give. Trust me, you haven’t done all you’re capable of and
you have much more to give.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are assuming you can go no further, but in truth you have no idea. As a rule of
thumb, remember this: Your body is capable of far more than you give it credit
for and much of your inner strength lies undetected until you go looking for
it. You don’t even realise it’s there until you dig deep and discover it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s why when I was massively overweight I had no idea how
I could turn my life around and survive the loss of Diane. But I looked in the
mirror and we decided I’d try.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I joined Smithills gym, I had no idea whether I would
be able to get fit, but I wanted to see if I could. The point is, when I looked
in that mirror and when I signed up to the gym, the only thing I knew about what would
happen next was that... I didn’t know. All I knew was that the future was a mystery, unwritten.
And I have spent my life looking at blank pieces of paper and dreaming up
stories. Time to see what story I myself was capable of.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So when on a sunny September morning in Salford Quays I
lined up with hundreds of other runners for my first ever 5K I was terrified. I
had no idea whether I’d be able to do it. But no-one was going to tell me I
couldn’t. I had to find that out for myself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had no idea as I took those first few tentative steps
outside the Lowry that just over two years later I’d be standing in a caravan
park in Rivington on my 60<sup>th</sup> birthday staring along the lane towards those daunting hills leading up to the Pike and about
to see if I could tackle one of the toughest marathons in the country.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Time to dig a little deeper and see if there was anything
left in that uncharted well of determination inside. I had the inner belief. Did I have
anything left to back it up? As 9am and the start of the run approached I
had no idea. That’s where the adventure begins, that’s the buzz you get from
testing yourself in ways you never believed possible and still aren’t sure if
they are!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Luckily, there was still enough left in me, even if it took
a long time and the company of wonderful friends to get me through it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now comes the next motto: If I can do it, anyone can. There’s
nothing special about me, there’s nothing I have that you don’t. I’m just not
prepared to accept that I can’t do something until I prove it to myself by falling
flat on my face attempting it. I’m sure at some point in the future that will
happen, that I will bite off more than I can chew and take on a challenge I can’t
rise to. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone else decide when and what that is.
I’m in charge of finding that out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your dreams need room to take flight, they need the freedom
to take you places you never imagined.
Don’t put them in a cage and just stare at them now and then, like watching a
proud wild animal in a zoo.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unlock the cage and let your dreams out. Like those animals
in the zoo, they are much better off in the wild, running free.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-1066956233160224512015-09-08T12:55:00.001-07:002015-09-08T12:59:53.667-07:00A reason for everything<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Two years ago this weekend I ran my first 5K, round Salford where Diane was born. Every year I'll do it because it has that special connection though there's no 5K any more, just the 10K. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">This year I'd hoped to get close to an hour but was disappointed to end up at 1:05, a minute slower than last year. The heat was pretty bad and got to me at 7K. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Then by chance, something special happened. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Heading back towards the Lowry after the run, I was stopped by another runner who was coming back towards the race area. He introduced himself as Rob Jackson from Horwich RMI Harriers (a fine runner, it turns out, as he had finished in 36 minutes!). He had read my blog and Bolton News articles and it turns out we shared some painful memories as he explained that he had lost his mum to cancer last year.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I felt very humble that he had recognised me and took the time to stop and chat. It was a pleasure to meet him. It also gave me a good kick up the wotsit (thanks, Di, I know you were behind it all) - you can obsess over times and ups and downs all you like. I was reminded by this chance encounter that that's not why I run. I run to meet people like Rob. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">And if I hadn't run 1:05 today, our paths might never have crossed.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-85201883841458706922015-07-22T00:51:00.000-07:002015-07-22T00:51:21.379-07:00We are ALL capable of far more than we imagine...<div class="MsoNormal">
One of the biggest tragedies in life today is the number of
people who fail to realise just what they are capable of.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is constantly frustrating to me to see people set their
personal bars so low, not imagining they are able to do any better, be any greater. They
are all, almost certainly, wrong. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No-one, not one of us, not even the likes of
Mo Farah, Chris Froome or the Brownlee Brothers, have any idea of what our limits are. These elite athletes have no clue as to how much further they can
go, how much faster, how much higher. That’s what still drives them on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that’s the difference between them and us. They refuse
to stop dreaming while so many of the rest of us sell ourselves short and
settle for where we are now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It doesn’t matter where you start from either. Here is my
experience – a lot of it will be familiar to many people and I apologise in
advance if I’m repeating myself too much but if one person reads this for the
first time and then decides to see just how far they can go – like I am doing –
then it will be worthwhile.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I started at the gym just over two years ago I couldn’t
get up a flight of stairs without a struggle. On the induction session with one
of the gym’s personal trainers, I was introduced to the treadmill and could
only walk on it for a minute before having to switch it off and catch my
breath. At 24 stone, I was clearly in a bad way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I looked enormous in the gym mirror. It didn’t lie. Around
me on the various exercise machines were fellow gym members of varying
abilities. But even the ones struggling were nowhere near as bad as me. And the
good ones were just too good to even concern myself with. The guy on the
treadmill next to me was one of the fitter ones and was clearly an accomplished
runner. He was belting along at a blistering rate and showing no signs of
letting up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Many people might have been intimidated by him but I wasn’t
and you mustn’t let yourself be either. My head was still filled with grief
over Diane and my own situation – improving my health wasn’t a fad, a phase I
was going through, a whim that would be blown off course the minute I saw
someone far better than me in the gym. I needed to get fit or… well, at best, I
would end up with mobility problems and in a wheelchair in a few years’ time;
at worst, I’d be dead because of my weight mushrooming out of control.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So the guy next to me on the treadmill could pound away for
all he was worth, I didn’t care. He was not my problem. I was. And that’s the
attitude everyone must start with. You are not competing with anyone except
yourself. Only you can stop yourself improving yourself. No-one else has the
power to stop you getting better, fitter, healthier. Only you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So it follows that only you can stop you realising your
dreams and goals. Those dreams and goals will be modest at first. But as you
start to take small steps to improvement your goals will grow and grow. You
will want to push yourself to your next target.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And be warned. It will never stop. Once you see yourself
making progress and realise how good it makes you feel, it becomes impossible
not to want to get even better, to feel even more alive. Every goal reached is
replaced with a new one. That’s not to be feared, though, that’s what is so
great about improving your life. You never tire of that feeling of
accomplishment.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So when I stood next to this man with the machine legs
pounding away on the treadmill next to me while I could only walk on mine for a
minute before stopping, my goal was not to be like him. My goal was to do a
minute and a half on my machine. That was all I was planning. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wasn’t expecting to feel any great elation when I did that
minute and a half. But when I did manage it, I was surprised by how thrilled I
was. It sounds silly, but if you’ve ever been in the position of being
massively overweight and desperate to turn your life around, you’ll know what I
mean. Just by doing more that day than I had been able to the time before made
me realise how rewarding it can be when you push yourself harder than you have
been able to push yourself before.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So when one and a half minutes became two and then three, I
was hooked. I had begun to lose weight already – it’s true that you lose more
at a quicker rate in the early stages which helps to inspire you further – so
the combination of these modest achievements and the early weight loss made me
immediately feel tons better.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Within a few weeks, the length of time I could walk on the treadmill had increased. I had upped the walking speed as much as I could, but then came
the day when I walked for three minutes and lightly jogged for a minute, then
walked for another three minutes. Jogging! Who’d have imagined that just a few
weeks earlier.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The even better news was that all areas of my life were
improving. For starters, I was able to get up the stairs a lot more easily now
and I was sleeping better. I could see the difference in my general shape with
the early weight loss in the mirror and I started to like what I was looking at
for a change.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Running was still not on my radar, though. Initially all
this was about was losing weight, getting more in shape and feeling better.
That was already starting to happen and I was delighted with the small
improvements I was making. Luckily, I had no aspirations at that stage to run a
marathon. That could easily have deflected me and derailed my efforts. Thinking
too far ahead and too big could risk you thinking it could never happen and it
could risk de-motivating you. Keep those targets modest and attainable at
first. Don’t look too far ahead. Just aim to be better today than you were
yesterday and after a few weeks you can assess how far you’ve come – and you’ll
astonish yourself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having said that, you’re allowed to have dreams. Just keep
them to yourself as much as possible. If you let a dream become public, you
will feel you HAVE to achieve it so as not to lose face with the people you
told. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dreams are private. Goals and targets can be talked about.
When you are starting from scratch, your goals and targets will be small,
modest steps. But your dreams can be as wild as you like. When you reach a
certain level through your hard work and training where a series of goals have
been met, you will find that a dream you’ve been harbouring will now become a
goal. You will have progressed enough for that particular first dream to cease
to be a flight of fancy and it will become an achievable aim. Gradually, one by
one, your dreams, through a succession of smaller targets met, will enter the
realms of possibility. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A lack of dreams, of seemingly unattainable ambitions, means
you have set a ceiling on what you can achieve. And you must never do that. Not
even you have any idea of what you are capable of. Never give up discovering
more about yourself and you will live life not only to the full but also
crossing boundaries you never thought you would.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The greatest challenge we face is to understand we are
capable of far more than we imagined possible.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-59931722302987640562015-06-15T08:37:00.000-07:002015-07-22T00:45:52.066-07:00Troughs, and peaks<div class="MsoNormal">
After the dramatic and traumatic year after Diane passed away,
the 12 months that followed were a lot more settled race-wise and culminated in
success at last in Rotterdam. But after that, I was conscious of not making the
kind of progress I was expecting to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I made such a huge change in my life in those first 12
months that I suppose at some point I had to get a feeling of anti-climax when
the progress slowed. The weight fell off so quickly to begin with that I fell
into the trap of thinking that’s how it would always be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But my times barely improved in the second 12 months of
my odyssey and that made me question myself in a way I wasn’t expecting to.
The weight even started to fluctuate again and is only now really coming back
under control. I look in better shape and I feel better than ever, it just
doesn’t seem to be translating into performance in the way I had hoped.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is 12 months since my first swimming lesson and I
believed by now I would be open water swimming to a sufficient level to have a
crack at a full distance triathlon this year. That’s unlikely to happen now. The
disappointment of realising how little progress I have made hit me hard when I
tried to do 500m at my first sprint triathlon in Nantwich a month ago. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was embarrassingly hopeless and took an age to do the 16
lengths of the 30-metre outdoor brine pool. I told myself I should be better
than this after 12 months and it is frustrating me that I’m not. I completed
the sprint distance eventually and for the record I wasn’t the slowest on the
bike for the 20k and I certainly wasn’t the slowest when it came to the 5K run
to finish off but the swimming performance left me feeling a bit of an
impostor, if I’m honest. I feel I had no right to be there and that stays with
me for a good while after the event.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe I’m just being foolish. At my age, starting from scratch
after never having swum or ridden a bike and not having run for 40 years since
leaving school, did I seriously think I’d be conquering full distance triathlons by now?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, yes is the short answer. And now I know I was being
too ambitious. But I am only prepared to concede that it will take longer than
I anticipated. I refuse to accept that I will not at some point reach my goals.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I need to work harder, I need to get more power in my legs
and I need to improve my endurance. Bit by bit, I need to chip away at these
things. I started off wanting to walk longer than a minute on the treadmill but
now I have allowed myself to get carried away with everything I have achieved.
I need to rein in my expectations and be more realistic. Target one is to get
under an hour for a 10K, closer to 2 hours for a half marathon and inside 5
hours for a marathon. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for swimming, I need to make a decision to concentrate
less on the principle that ‘practice makes perfect’ and ease up on just doing
length after length poorly in the hope that one day it might all click magically
into place and start doing some drills instead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I need to stop thinking about open water swimming. I need to
master the pool first. The wetsuit is hanging in the wardrobe anxious to be
tried out, but it will have to be patient. Its time will come. When I’m ready
and not before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
****<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
June 6, 2015. 5.10am. No need for an alarm clock. I’m up
already. Bonny and Cassie aren’t quite sure why they’re up so early but neither
is complaining. An early snoop around the garden as the dawn chorus is still
playing suits them fine.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for me, I have begun the final countdown to the Bolton
Hill Marathon, a ‘testing’ 26 miles-plus over the trails of the West Pennine
Moors. It’s billed as a toughie and I’m ready for a long day. I’m nervous but
can’t wait to get started.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nervous in no small measure because it is seven weeks since
Rotterdam and six days after the sprint triathlon disappointment in Nantwich.
So while I’d been concentrating on the pool in an attempt – sadly a vain
attempt – to perform OK in the pool, my running had gone by the board. I had
done one 10K, one parkrun and one training run of nearly 20 miles over parts of
the hill marathon course with Julie Bower. She had been focussing on the hill
marathon for a lot longer than I had and she was in much better shape for it
than me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But with a generous cut-off time of 8 hours, I was determined
to do it by hook or by crook. Make that by run or by walk. I would do my best
to run the hills where I could but I also knew I had to respect the distance
and make sure I left enough in the tank to finish. So no mad heroics early on
just to see myself run out of steam before the end.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everyone knows how tough it is but tough doesn't really come close. Certainly for a first-timer of my standard, anyway. Brutal is better, especially the sharp rise from Rivington
near Horwich back up the Roman road. After 21 miles, it’s hard enough to walk
up let alone run up. I could not believe anyone could run up that section, but
of course lots of the front runners did. They must have robot legs, machines
from the waist down. Did anyone check them for this at the end?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I make it home, though, and cross the finish line in a
couple of minutes over 7 hours. My legs are complaining heavily, but I feel
elated to have done it. Even though my time is four hours slower than the
winner. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Strangely, it restored my faith in what I can achieve. I
felt good out there. Slow, but good. I walked quite a few of the steeper hills
but not all of them and I managed to run unbroken for the last two miles or so to the finish.
I felt remarkably strong at the end, considering. I felt fitter. It sounds odd to say it, given I
was an hour and a half slower than in Rotterdam. But this was a real demanding
course – even though Steven Snape the winner dismissed it to me as “not really that tough”.
He should try running it for 7 hours see how he feels then! (<i>To be fair he did say he had huge respect for anyone who stuck it out for so long to reach the end - felt I had to balance that up</i>)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No, as far as I was concerned, I found it tough but I handled it. And it made me feel very positive about what lies ahead. Maybe not in the pool, but certainly on the roads and trails that lie ahead of me. I am sure now
that I have a lot more in my tank. A lot more potential in my running. I need
another marathon. And soon. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-45220106337961739182015-04-17T09:20:00.003-07:002015-04-17T13:40:01.474-07:00The day that I had dreamed about...<div class="MsoNormal">
My head has cleared (a bit) and my emotions have calmed down
(slightly) - enough anyway, I think, to start to tell of how the greatest weekend of my
life unfolded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I feel ready to tell how wonderful things happened even as I stood at the start, music pumping, adrenaline
rising, atmosphere building. Amid the thousands of runners lining up with me, I
felt a tap on my shoulder and a fellow runner introduced himself. He had seen
my story on the marathon website and had recognised me by my Running With Diane/Breast
Cancer Care vest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We shared our stories and two people who clearly would never
have met each other had it not been for running and not been for Rotterdam
joined hands across an ocean. It was a pleasure to meet Luis Tapia Soto, my
new-found friend from Mexico who has his own cancer charity initiative back
home and is doing fantastic work around the world, running and raising the
profile of his cause, Kilometros y Sonrisas (Miles for Smiles). Learn more at <a href="http://www.facebook.com/kilometrosySonrisas?fref=ts">www.facebook.com/kilometrosySonrisas?fref=ts</a>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, we were off. The mission had begun. And ahead of me
lay a defining 42K. The first few steps were full of nerves, but soon everyone
settled into their rhythm and as the giant Erasmusbrug came into view at the
end of the first kilometre, we were all just glad to be on our way at last.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was something in the back of my mind even then,
though. Something which had been bugging me for 12 months. I knew, somewhere up
ahead, was a stretch of the route which ran through a particularly vocal,
raucous and ultra-supportive section of the crowd, a stretch on which I was
first told last year that I would not finish the race in time and that I should
withdraw.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crowd here are amazing, no question about that. It’s
hardly surprising. The stretch is home to some of the city’s most popular bars
and the guys started “cheering” runners a good few hours before I approached. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s one of the best sections of the route – but sadly for
me it was as far as I got in 2014. That part of the route had been playing on
mind the whole week. I could see it in my mind’s eye, I could hear the marshal’s
car approaching and easing up alongside me and I could still hear the marshal’s
voice explaining that I should stop.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Only one thing would banish that awful memory and that
terrible feeling, that moment when my heart sank – it was to make sure I gave them no opportunity
to do the same thing again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So when I hit it over 30 minutes sooner than last year, I
allowed myself a relieved smile. I squeezed between the cheering hordes who had
now narrowed the space available to run through to a single file. High fives,
slaps on the back and mine and other runners’ names chanted in encouragement –
an incredible feeling when everything is going right.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And at that stage, everything was going right. I had taken
it easy (as instructed!) early on, sticking to a metronomic pace for the first
third of the race. I knew my legs were stronger but I hadn’t expected to go
quite this smoothly. I had underperformed at Trimpell three weeks earlier by
going off too quickly and blowing up after 17 miles, struggling to complete the
last three. Now I had passed 17 at Rotterdam with plenty left in the tank. Just
by taking it smoothly and gently.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I knew there would come a point where the wheels would start
to creak and wobble and look as if they were about to come off but it wasn’t
happening yet. I was over 20 minutes inside my Trimpell time when I hit 20
miles in Rotterdam. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At 21, I started to feel it, then worse at 22 and 23 before
I steadied the ship. I thought at one stage (20 miles) that I would finish well
within the time limit. At 23, I wasn’t so sure and at 24 and 25, it looked
increasingly unlikely. I know I had the consolation that I had already ensured that I would be allowed to finish. However long it now took me to reach that line, I knew I would receive a medal and official time - even if I was over the
cut-off mark. But that would have been settling for less - after all, I had set my heart on coming in under five-and-a-half hours and I was desperate to do it..<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then Diane stepped in. She must have decided I needed a lift
for the last mile because suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, two members of the
volunteer support crew, a young woman and a man, ran out and greeted me, asking
me if I’d let them run with me to the finish. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Miraculously the pace stepped up –
as shown in the pace chart analysis of the whole race. Steady for 30K,
gradually slower for the next 10K and then up again for the last 2K.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These two wonderful young people – it is now my mission to
put names to these faces and get back in touch to thank them both properly –
were my saviours. Sent, I have no doubt, by Diane to get me home inside the
closing time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My legs felt lighter for them being there and it was a joy
to have them running alongside.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They shared with me the mile of the race I had lived over and
over again in my head for nigh on 18 months. A slow right turn onto a main
strip called Blaak and then the famous sharp right onto the legendary
Coolsingel for the last 600 metres to the finish in front of the Stadhuis (City Hall).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had dreamt this moment a thousand times and now here I
was. With Diane filling every thought and matching every step, I ran through
the banks of crowds still there at the finish - still cheering every runner after over five hours. It was the most exhilarating experience of my life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When someone asks you why Rotterdam, just tell them about
the buzz, the atmosphere, the crowds. The entire city comes out to celebrate you running and to give you
support every step of the way. Nothing else happens in Rotterdam for those magical hours. Every single person in the city joins in. Even the last few runners home are treated to a
hero’s welcome from them, nearly three and a half hours since they cheered the winner
over the same line.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When someone asks me why Rotterdam, I only need to mention
one name. My inspiration, my guide, the love of my life, my driving force. My Diane.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKmN6pgSeJR3XmYQbiXbHMtYy6D4xzk4FpYyhnyzNekSiUGuagsqQ3rN7UiQfsdLcCwv39e38CTQgZDoG3fxISD6-ITwkhJNv_JJdka1UmHTlNpuyOCrkhTa5zdUDYEsuA2ji5lUkOFYI/s1600/diane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKmN6pgSeJR3XmYQbiXbHMtYy6D4xzk4FpYyhnyzNekSiUGuagsqQ3rN7UiQfsdLcCwv39e38CTQgZDoG3fxISD6-ITwkhJNv_JJdka1UmHTlNpuyOCrkhTa5zdUDYEsuA2ji5lUkOFYI/s1600/diane.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-87137787563783490872015-04-03T09:16:00.001-07:002015-04-03T13:14:38.477-07:00Here I go again!<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_69" style="font-family: Calibri;">TWELVE months ago I was full of anticipation as the big day approached. As I counted down the days to Rotterdam and my marathon in memory of Diane around the streets where she spent her happy childhood, I reflected on how far I had come. Just 12 months earlier, I had enrolled at Smithills gym, weighing in at just under 24 stone and looking to sort myself out following the loss of Diane.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She had shown such courage in her final weeks, I had to honour her life and her memory. I couldn’t do that by struggling to get up a flight of stairs and watching my life go down the pan. I had to turn things around and make her proud.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So there I was at my first gym session on Day 1 of the rest of my life, learning some home truths about just how bad I had become. But one thing I had on my side was Diane.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She had never left me, in truth. And she’s been with me in my heart and mind every day since. She was there when I turned my walk on the treadmill into a limping jog; she was there to see me break into a run. And she was there, prodding me, prompting me, urging me, when I decided to do my first 5K round Salford, where she was born. That was September 2013.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At the time I decided to do it, it seemed like an impossible dream but I managed it and loved it and couldn’t wait to do it again. This time 10K. And now, just over six months after that first 5K, here I was, full of anticipation ahead of heading off to Rotterdam to run a marathon in aid of Breast Cancer Care.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The support I had from friends, old and new – many of the new from the Burnden Road Runners club I was lucky enough to join in November 2013 – was amazing. The appeal for the charity, which does such amazing work on the “frontline” helping families living under the same cloud Diane and I did for six years, far exceeded expectations.</span></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_63" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are over 500,000 people – mostly women but many men, too – living with a diagnosis of breast cancer. Another 50,000-plus will learn they have the disease in the next 12 months. That bombshell is waiting to strike all their families. And it’s what makes the work of Breast Cancer Care not only essential, but never-ending.</span></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_65" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_64" style="font-family: Calibri;">For families affected by the disease, nothing will ever be the same again. the dark clouds come over and the future looks very bleak. But Breast Cancer Care's amazing team of experts, counsellors and volunteers help to brighten the skies a little. With them providing support, the clouds part and a few rays of sunshine manage to peek through. They give you hope where you thought there was none at all.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_68" style="font-family: Calibri;">So here I was, musing on all these things. April 3 2013. Ten days later, devastation. I fell short on the day, a combination of many small things I did wrong which when they came together proved one big obstacle too great to overcome. I was pulled off the course after 20 miles because I was going too slowly to finish inside the 5hr30 cut-off time.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I made up for the disappointment a few weeks later at Liverpool, but in the back of my mind was Rotterdam. I knew I’d be back. I had to put things right.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now here I am. In less than a week I am back in Rotterdam, preparing to take on the course again and hoping I have learnt my lessons from last year.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because of the fuss I made 12 months ago when I ended up falling short, I decided a while back to go about this one quietly. I didn’t want to make too much of it. I just wanted to go over, have another go and see how it went without piling too much pressure on myself “to perform”.</span></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_56" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_58" style="font-family: Calibri;">Then Diane reminded me, this is not my decision to make. It’s not about me, it’s about raising awareness and funds for Breast Cancer Care and helping others who find themselves in the horrible position we did all those years ago when she was first diagnosed.</span></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_60" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_59" style="font-family: Calibri;">I'll go over next week, more prepared than last year but not necessarily any more confident!) and I'll have another go. And I'll do it for Diane and Breast Cancer Care. And if I come up short again, I'll be back in 2016 to give it another bash. </span></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_62" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span id="yui_3_7_2_23_1428069382022_61" style="font-family: Calibri;">Because of everyone's generosity last year, I don't expect people to dig deep in their pockets again this time around. But in case you do have a couple of quid you won't miss, I've set up a fresh Virgin Money Giving page - it all goes to people making a huge difference to lives where right now the sky is quite dark all of the time. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Time to let a little sun shine through.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/rotterdam2015">uk.virginmoneygiving.com/rotterdam2015</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then click on the Rotterdam Marathon page.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For information about the work the charity Breast Cancer Care does, visit: <a href="http://www.breastcancercare.org.uk/">www.breastcancercare.org.uk</a></span><br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-61366757297182175742015-03-09T00:43:00.000-07:002015-03-09T00:43:04.361-07:00The start line<div class="MsoNormal">
Nice people need more encouragement. Modest, reserved folk
who live their lives respecting others have a tendency to undervalue themselves
in the process. How many times have you watched someone achieve something in
their life and thought to yourself, ‘I could never do that’.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, stop. Consciously make yourself stop thinking that
way. We are always underestimating what we are capable of and it’s the reason
many of us never have the courage to get started in the first place. Banish
those modest thoughts and when you see someone achieve something in their
lives, say to yourself, ‘Why can’t I do that?’ Tell yourself, ‘I could do that’
and ask yourself, ‘If they can do that, why can’t I?’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I used to sit in awe of runners when I watched them
competing. ‘I could never do that’ I used to say to myself. Then after
discovering the joy of running my mind started to challenge my own
preconceptions of what I was capable of. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now my target is a first Olympic distance triathlon. I stopped thinking ‘I
can’t do that’ a long time ago. I watch the Brownlee brothers and I’m inspired.
It doesn’t matter that I’ll never be in their league. That’s not the point. What matters is me having a go. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite at the time not being able to swim a stroke or sit on a bike without falling off, I started to ask myself, ‘Why can’t I do that?’</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know I’ll be lucky to finish at all, never mind worry about what time I do it in but that doesn’t stop me being inspired by them to follow what they
are doing. I’ll never be able to do it the way they do or as fast as they do
it, but that’s missing the point. You’re not in it to win it, you’re in it because it’s
a way of challenging yourself. Your competition is with yourself, not others.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Change your mindset and suddenly what you are capable of
becomes an unknown. And that’s the exciting bit. When you stop saying ‘I can’t’
and start asking, ‘I wonder if...’ that’s the adventure there, in a nutshell. The
shackles come off, your self-deprecation evaporates and you start to think of
what might be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Look up and not down, ahead and not behind. Don’t let how
you are determine how you will be. You have no idea how far, how long or how
high you can reach because you haven’t tried
to find out yet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you start to dream, simply start to imagine how much better
you could be than you are today, that’s when you feel the irresistible urge to
get off the sofa. And that’s when you know you’ve conquered the most difficult
part of all. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reaching the start line.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-4018605576203615172015-02-03T12:37:00.001-08:002015-02-03T12:37:46.641-08:00Dark days and brighter tomorrows<div class="MsoNormal">
THIS blog is about lots of things – loss, grief, rebirth,
life-changing transformations, breaking boundaries, refusing to settle for less.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hopefully, everyone will find some common ground, something
that mirrors their experiences. If I can inspire one person to change their life
for the better, convince one person all is not lost or show one person how to
believe in a brighter future, I’ll be a very happy man.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This page is all about striving to make the most of every
second of this precious life we’ve been blessed with. To fill each minute with
60 seconds worth of distance run. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s about challenging yourself to go places nobody thought
you were capable of.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s about doing all this to honour a loved one. This Friday
is the second anniversary of Diane’s passing and as you might expect, it’s a
pretty dark time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I still sit and talk to her in my head but when I look
across at where she always sat, she’s still not there. I keep thinking she
might suddenly reappear and everything will be OK again, but I know that’s not
going to happen. Pain and grief aren’t the main emotions anymore, those are the
shock reactions to loss which are the first to fade. I just feel sad, that’s
all. There’s no better way to describe it. A little three-letter word which
manages to sum up the mad whirl of emotions that are racing around my head in
this, the most awful week of the year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But with that sadness comes a determination to never let her
go. She is still very much with me and she still guides me. Towards the end of
last year, she went away for a while but in the last couple of weeks she has returned
to steer me back on course. It shows how much I relied on her in life and how
much I still depend on her to help me make the right choices.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She fills my heart and mind and I talk to her every day. So
I’m lucky. Two years ago next week, we gathered to celebrate her life as we
said our last goodbyes to her as we had known her. That’s what must be my focus
now. Celebration. 20 glorious years with one of the kindest, most generous
people you could ever meet. And that 20 years is hers and mine forever. I cherish every
moment I spent with her and I continue to cherish every moment still. Even after all that has happened, we are still together.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She is running with me again, and when the days threaten to
get scarily dark, she is there to light the way. Running With Diane – look up
and not down, ahead and not behind. That’s what I promised her two years ago.
And that’s what I must continue to do, for her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have such happy memories. But the miracle is that every
day she creates new ones for me. What I have done so far in turning my life
around has been done with her – we’ve created these moments together. I couldn't have done it without her guiding me. And
whatever I achieve in the future, that will be us doing it, not just me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I promise you, Diane, that this year will be bigger and
better than last year. And every year that follows will outdo the last. That’s
my pledge. My way of honouring you.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thanks for sticking with me still, and not
giving up on me. Cancer tried to separate us. But it failed. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-76776130886090807332015-01-26T00:08:00.000-08:002015-01-26T00:08:24.661-08:00Back on track<div class="MsoNormal">
THESE are the darkest weeks. It’s coming up to two years
since I lost my beloved Diane and the pain of being without someone so special
doesn’t get any easier. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It seems to me the pain doesn’t diminish; it’s just the
ability to deal with it and manage it which improves over time. I feel the
sense of loss has increased, if anything. Every day that passes just confirms
how she’s not coming back, how this is what life is now, a life without Diane
to hold and, in a literal sense, lean on. The longer I am without her alongside
me, the greater the sadness that this is how it will always be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, I lean on her still emotionally and she is as
much a part of me in my heart and mind as she always was in life. But that
warmth of her next to me, that sense of comfort you get from having someone
there alongside you, that is still missing and the more it is missing, the more
lonely you feel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m lucky that I am surrounded by good people, friends who
are supportive and who understand. I’m blessed to have my two beautiful doggies
Cassie and Bonny looking after me, caring for me. And I’m extra blessed to have
discovered running.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During the months after my first “fun” triathlon in Nantwich
in September, I admit I lost my way a bit. It was difficult to get motivated
and when I did run, it usually ended up in disappointment, a reminder that if
you neglect to train, your body will go backwards. All that progress you made
will be at risk. And yet you still can’t seem to convince yourself to knuckle
down and get back on track.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The winter will always be difficult for me. November 28 is
Diane’s birthday, and every year it marks the first of many sad anniversaries
that go through Christmas and finish on Valentine’s Day, the day in 2013 when I
said farewell to her at her funeral. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So we are in the thick of this dark period. But hope is
never far away. We all need hope. It’s what drives us on and makes us strive to
see what tomorrow will bring. No hope means no tomorrows. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Diane has reminded me this week of how much I have to look
forward to, how much we have to do together this year. And I have started to
get on with it. I have begun to feel re-motivated. The anniversary of her
passing on February 6, 2013 is fast approaching and as it nears, in a perverse
way, I feel her inspiring me again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d think that would see me at my lowest. But strangely
no. Yes, these are dark days filled with sad anniversaries. But they are also
the days when I remember how courageous she was in those final weeks. How she
fought, the dignity she showed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I held her hand constantly in those final days and I
remember now in the depths of this bleak time of the year, how that felt. And
it’s the same feeling I have today. I still feel her hand in mine and always will.
She is my inspiration and the power behind everything I do .</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m writing this just as the sun comes up. Another dawn,
another tomorrow filled with hope. And hand in hand, Diane and I will continue
to strive to fill it. She is still making memories for me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Selfishly, I have to now admit something. This blog entry is
not for you today. It is for me. It is for me to read to myself over and over
during the coming days to remind myself that Diane is still my whole life, my reason
to do more today than I did yesterday, to aim higher than ever before. To
honour her and do justice to her memory, I need to stop thinking ‘I can’t’ and make
damned sure ‘I can’.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So she’s at it again. Inspiring me. I’m back on track,
thanks to her. As usual, she is and has always been the force makes everything
I do possible. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And in this dark, bleak time of remembrance, that fills me
with renewed hope.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-67983911607763703002014-09-22T06:59:00.002-07:002015-01-26T00:08:42.701-08:00Crazy? You ain't seen nothing yet...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>BOLTON HILL MARATHON 2015<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<strong>
</strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>Saturday June 6, 2015</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://www.hillrunner.org.uk/info2.cfm?info_id=107164">http://www.hillrunner.org.uk/info2.cfm?info_id=107164</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m in! Who’s with me? Or should I say, who’s bringing up
the rear with me and making the marshals curse about how late it’s getting “and there’s
still a few out there”?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There are some things in life you just have to face up to
and bite the bullet – and the famous hill marathon in my own back yard is one
of them. Inspired by watching my fellow Burndeners tackle the gruelling event
last year, I pledged to have a crack at it myself. Now I can’t wait.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">If Diane thought that after 40 years as an avid couch potato
I was mad to take up running at the age of 58, after ditching nine stones in a
year, then she ain’t seen nothing yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It will certainly be the toughest thing I will have attempted in my
brief life as a distance runner – but I’ve news for you, Diane – it’s not the
craziest thing I have planned… Watch this space!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-51857536763502323852014-08-20T15:43:00.000-07:002014-08-20T15:43:27.581-07:00Why today was a special day<div class="MsoNormal">
EVERY now and then, people come into your life that make you
wonder how you ever managed without them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There haven’t been that many in my 58 years but that just
emphasises how special they are when they do appear. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When they come along, they change your life. They add to it,
their friendship enriches it and their guidance helps you make more right
decisions than you would otherwise have done. They make you a better person,
because you learn from them how to be towards others. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Diane was one. Everyone who knew Diane was the better for
it. She had that effect on people. When I lost her, I thought my world had
ended. But she soon put me right on that score. She made me turn my life around
and in so doing she made me meet some wonderful, new friends.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She’s the driving force behind the posts on this blog. Every
now and then I’ll think of her and I’ll find myself suddenly thinking of something I
need to put down in writing. It’s happened again tonight.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This post was originally going to be selfishly all about me and what I
did today – my first major bike ride in quite a fair bit of traffic plus more lengths of Horwich pool ahead of this impending "fun" triathlon next month. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But that’s not the most important thing that happened to me
today. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The best part of today was to spend time with two of these very
special people I’m talking about, to realise just how much they mean to me and how much they have quickly become such a big part of my new life now. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can do so much more physically now in terms of running,
swimming and cycling than I could before and it’s an amazing feeling – but it’s
nothing compared to what it means to have discovered friends like these. Like I say, this isn’t the post they were expecting to read
after our exploits today. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But their kindness has made me realise that even if I
could bike a thousand miles, swim an ocean and then run across a desert it
wouldn’t mean half as much to me as those few (shaky) miles I did today and the joy of just being in their company.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-58185052355701569692014-07-29T09:24:00.001-07:002014-07-29T22:27:01.589-07:00To the many who are doing it Steve's Way<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcY6Ncv9CVD7Zov1DhqzGolN2aZ4ikwZImRd6snO-kQnXD-lT8T8bcw4kR4v2pualoEESACAiBRyk-OP3r9mjlRTmIg3vMaltp8bPnUgy9gqaL-HTNzwOLR1lRg79pY6kJgQDK-1RYIUI/s1600/PA-20506302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcY6Ncv9CVD7Zov1DhqzGolN2aZ4ikwZImRd6snO-kQnXD-lT8T8bcw4kR4v2pualoEESACAiBRyk-OP3r9mjlRTmIg3vMaltp8bPnUgy9gqaL-HTNzwOLR1lRg79pY6kJgQDK-1RYIUI/s1600/PA-20506302.jpg" height="320" width="259" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p>COMMONWEALTH Games marathon man Steve Way's incredible journey from poor health and bad diet to last Sunday's epic performance around the streets of Glasgow proves just what can be achieved if you are determined to turn your life around.</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p>I know how he must feel even though I know I'll never match his level of performance (after all, I'm old enough to be his dad!) But I know the sense of pride he feels this week will be the same sense of pride that all runners feel when they achieve something which would have been impossible a few years ago. </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p>It's the same feeling you get when you do two minutes on a treadmill after only being able to do one minute the week before. The distance and the scale of the achievement is not what makes us burst with pride - it's the fact that we made a decision to reach for seemingly impossible goals - whether it's over 5K, a marathon or an ultra event.</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p>Steve has inspired me to try harder, aim higher and reach further. But then so have a load of people who do their running well down the pack towards the back of the field, but who are still achieving more than they could ever have dreamt possible.</o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p>Inspiration comes from everywhere in a race, often the back of the pack. It's a great feeling to be part of the whole running community which includes Steve and the hundreds of thousands of other inspirational people who strive to improve their lives beyond measure every week and every time they run.</o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-42014617514854166672014-07-29T08:55:00.001-07:002014-07-29T08:55:18.165-07:00Bolton News, Saturday July 26<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZiXTQF7aJhBktDFbyDHZZFuIddTk15YYjbtPIkmrXcF_FNqjKmtHpsaV5dEvRJ_TBrB9zcKaMGWmIeXLoH6QKAKEyarP2HBDrWJIubCFpXsKEucalC2ljaL4uBdHhzwL-iKMjO7aQC8/s1600/bolton+news.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZiXTQF7aJhBktDFbyDHZZFuIddTk15YYjbtPIkmrXcF_FNqjKmtHpsaV5dEvRJ_TBrB9zcKaMGWmIeXLoH6QKAKEyarP2HBDrWJIubCFpXsKEucalC2ljaL4uBdHhzwL-iKMjO7aQC8/s1600/bolton+news.JPG" height="640" width="404" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-48052760330847081342014-07-26T23:58:00.000-07:002014-07-26T23:58:17.728-07:00Word gets around!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_j6_PM6LzfyAbSE-kgOY3Q2TTp08HRL6G9onxcwzMbq8iPLk1bA1oqHsxlj44F94f4VfyJ5S2Ss9lNY_bNc9jTHH9tK9nio89flKVn-Rqa42yRHyHQOUu86-4XdFXOXcptvIOBtD6k8/s1600/coventry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP_j6_PM6LzfyAbSE-kgOY3Q2TTp08HRL6G9onxcwzMbq8iPLk1bA1oqHsxlj44F94f4VfyJ5S2Ss9lNY_bNc9jTHH9tK9nio89flKVn-Rqa42yRHyHQOUu86-4XdFXOXcptvIOBtD6k8/s1600/coventry.JPG" height="290" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Coventry Telegraph, Monday July 21</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmi0AQ-NEVSv9msKaQrsNevseeziDhpww0onmQIUIAyfRv3dnZBAZkkDaBMGZRoFO-TY0enJ-NFEHiVW7rjnP6pQWHniSkLndTapAdAkVf4OGOTlRwJFczaSCiJuhJq8VcRHVThfpzSII/s1600/WORCESTER+NEWS.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmi0AQ-NEVSv9msKaQrsNevseeziDhpww0onmQIUIAyfRv3dnZBAZkkDaBMGZRoFO-TY0enJ-NFEHiVW7rjnP6pQWHniSkLndTapAdAkVf4OGOTlRwJFczaSCiJuhJq8VcRHVThfpzSII/s1600/WORCESTER+NEWS.JPG" height="640" width="512" /></a></div>
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<i>Worcester News website, Sunday July 13</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-3538876687581277722014-07-19T13:28:00.002-07:002014-07-19T13:28:37.948-07:00The awesome Ironmen<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's
Ironman weekend in Bolton, when men become supermen. It's a weekend they will never forget, when they rise to be,
quite simply, legends. They are doing something beyond the capability of
billions of people. They define the word elite and they deserve every accolade
they receive. They are simply awesome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is their spirit and drive
which has inspired me to want to learn to swim and ride a bike so I can compete
in a junior triathlon. After that, who knows? One thing I've learnt over the
past 18 months is that you should never say never. Never say enough is enough
because whatever you have achieved, there's always more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No-one can ever stop and say
they've done it all. No human in the history of mankind has ever been able to.
No matter how much they achieved, there was still more to strive for. That's
what should drive us on every day. We should always aim high, and then higher
and never stop testing ourselves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is no such thing as failure
if you try to achieve something. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only failure is if you don't
try. If you limit yourself to what you think you can do, instead of saying to
yourself: 'I wonder how much I can do', then you have let yourself down. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Realise your full potential.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't tell yourself you can't run
lose weight and get fit, ask yourself: 'I wonder if I can lose weight and get
fit'. Don't shrug your shoulders and say you'll never be able to run a 5K, ask
yourself: 'I wonder if I can run a 5K'. Then when you achieve what you didn't
think you could, you suddenly wonder just how far you can take all this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A 10K, a 10-miler, a half, a full
marathon... and then, maybe, just maybe, have a crack at even more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Diane's courage in her six and a
half year battle against breast cancer has inspired me to reach for stuff I
never dreamed possible. With her to guide me, I went from someone who said ‘I
could never do that’ to someone who wondered if he could. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If
you’d told me at the start of 2013 when I weighed 24 stone and struggled up a
flight of stairs that I could run 50 yards if I put my mind to it, I'd have
laughed at you. If I'd had the breath to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But
losing Diane changed everything. I realised how precious every second of life
is, how it’s so foolish to waste a single moment wondering. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Better
to fill that moment trying.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So
my dream to lose weight became my dream to run a 5K and then a 10K. And that
became a dream to run a half marathon and then a full one. Now that has become
a dream to learn to swim and cycle to have a go at a triathlon. And if that
works out, who knows?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nobody knows.
That’s the answer. Nobody knows. Least of all you until you have a go and see
for yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Never
say never. Always reach for what you think is impossible and even if you come
up short you’ll be amazed how far you travelled just attempting it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s
what I learned in Rotterdam. I was devastated. I thought I’d failed. Then I
realised how far I’d come and that this was just another lesson along the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
might never get to a sufficiently high standard to do an Ironman. I still swim
like I'm in an invisible diving suit and have yet to summon up the courage to
ride a bike in traffic, but I swim better than I did three weeks ago and today
I rode a bike for the first time with something bordering on confidence. It’s
coming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So as Ironmen test themselves to
their own limit, this weekend has seen me take a giant leap forward too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
might never be able to attempt an Ironman but don't tell me I can't. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If
I am not able to, it will because I tried and didn't make it. That's something
entirely different.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The amazing athletes competing in the gruelling event this weekend
didn’t get to the start line because they knew they could. They got there
because they wouldn’t let anyone tell them they couldn’t. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-61458329323584761402014-07-02T15:25:00.000-07:002014-07-13T08:19:41.018-07:00THE ACCIDENTAL TRIATHLETE<h3>
<b>Can't swim or ride a bike? I know what I'll do...</b></h3>
<div>
<b><br /></b></div>
A FEW weeks ago, I had another of those moments. One very similar to the one that last September after completing (eventually) my first 5K run EVER around Salford’s shiny new Quays. I loved it, and that was when I decided I wanted to go for a marathon.<br />
At the time, as I plodded up the slight rise to the finish line outside the Lowry Theatre, it seemed outrageous to even contemplate the idea of doing 26.2 miles.<br />
Trouble is, I couldn’t see why not. I knew it would be the biggest challenge of my life but I saw no reason why not. If I could do 5K I could do 10, surely. And when I’d done 10, wouldn’t I be able to try that seven-miler at Longridge where you get a Christmas pudding? Why not? Then, after that, why not a half? And so on, and so on, until in April in Rotterdam I found myself lining up for my first marathon attempt.<br />
That day, it wasn’t to be (see earlier posts for the unfortunate reasons) but my weekend’s experience in the city where Diane spent her childhood taught me a valuable lesson – you just don’t turn up and run a marathon. You have to earn every step.<br />
And so at Liverpool six weeks later, after I had knuckled down and put more minutes on my legs, I managed it.
So I proved that with the inspiration of someone special, someone who was my whole life for more than 20 years, I wasn’t mad when I dared to dream.<br />
And I’m not mad today when I come out of the triathlon closet and reveal that I am now in training to complete my first three-discipline event as the latest chapter in the Running With Diane story in aid of the support charity Breast Cancer Care.<br />
<b>When I say “in training”, what I really mean is “in learning”. </b><br />
Two weeks ago I had never sat on a bike in my life, even as a child. Just never had one. Don’t know why but it never happened – never entered my head to ask for one and never crossed my mum and dad’s minds to get me one.
Also, two weeks ago, I swam like a ship’s anchor.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I don’t quite know why I’m doing this, but I am. It’s kind
of happened by accident. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the marathon, I had to come up with something
even more crazy to do for the charity. Then someone happened to say triathlon and
I was hooked on the idea.</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK3c_a9Xzs_Oo97_olsu7LgotHH7hQ2bXoJgof4XhyphenhyphenpetQSWCrSoL92ENZXsYt1ZzYtS_fQROHK2TxqwOhHWWeXVV5isEBLcNhEk5F0WbeeE1ZsaZBFpyq9xMPcKXYgPxlUUOiVY5MIZM/s1600/2005-01-01+00.00.00-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK3c_a9Xzs_Oo97_olsu7LgotHH7hQ2bXoJgof4XhyphenhyphenpetQSWCrSoL92ENZXsYt1ZzYtS_fQROHK2TxqwOhHWWeXVV5isEBLcNhEk5F0WbeeE1ZsaZBFpyq9xMPcKXYgPxlUUOiVY5MIZM/s1600/2005-01-01+00.00.00-3.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>This was Lesson 1. Lesson 2 seemed a long way off...</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Now, after taking my first tentative steps at both swimming and riding a bike, I can report that I can swim half a length of the local pool breaststroke. Well, it’s a start. If this amazing transformation in me has taught me one thing it’s that small steps bring big changes.<br />
For example, I can pedal a bike now. I still look like I’m cycling through an earthquake, but I’m definitely pedalling and definitely improving. Once I feel in control of the damned thing, I’m sure I’ll feel a lot better. So will the bike.<br />
I like to go for things people think I’ve no chance of achieving. Every day, I want to prove someone wrong about me. I want to surprise somebody all the time.
Diane is still my driving force and I know she’ll be with me every moment – just like she has been so far. This is for her again, because I know if I promise to do it for her, I won’t allow myself to waver in my efforts.<br />
The target is a “fun” triathlon at Nantwich in September, then a sprint version before the end of the year and a full Olympic one in the new year.<br />
Yes, September. Yes, this year. Now you think I really have lost the plot, I suppose. You could be right. We’ll see.<br />
If I manage to hit that target, it will be just 15 months since I joined the gym at Smithills, 13 months since running for the first time on a road and 10 months since joining the Burnden Road Runners club.<br />
If I complete my first full triathlon early in 2015, it will be less than two years since, with my weight at 24 stones and suffering from diabetes, I struggled to even get up a flight of stairs.<br />
It will also be just under two years since the death of Diane, whose courage and bravery during her battle against breast cancer has been my inspiration for turning my life around.<br />
Breast Cancer Care does incredible work to help families across the UK living every day under the cloud of cancer, just as we did. There are more than 500,000 such families, and more than 50,000 women and men will discover in the next 12 months that they have the disease.<br />
Nothing prepares you for that day when the bombshell diagnosis is given. The fall-out is terrible and your world becomes dark and desolate. But Breast Cancer Care is there to pick you up and help you through. Miracles do happen. For some, the clouds do disappear.<br />
Sadly, too often – as in Diane’s case – they don’t. But the fight goes on and we won’t stop until we beat this terrible disease.<br />
So what’s a bit of swimming, cycling and running – with Diane helping me every inch of the way – compared to what these families are going through every moment of their lives and compared to what Diane had to suffer.<br />
<b>Can’t swim, can’t ride a bike, can’t run too well? Sounds like the perfect challenge for the two of us... How about it, Di?</b>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-14261517344952365672014-05-28T11:00:00.000-07:002014-05-28T11:00:02.021-07:00Now what have we here ..?<iframe width="350" height="240" src="//w2.countingdownto.com/560267" frameborder="0"></iframe><p><a href="http://countingdownto.com">Countdown Clocks</a></p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-47305701381984273822014-05-28T10:53:00.000-07:002014-05-28T10:53:25.236-07:00A dream finish<div class="MsoNormal">
I had crossed that finish line a thousand times. Maybe more.
First of all in the weeks leading up to my first marathon attempt in Rotterdam,
then, over the last month, I dreamed about the final few strides of the
Liverpool Rock N Roll Marathon instead.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This time it happened for real. I crossed it with my head
filled with thoughts of Diane. I could feel her hand in mine and hear her voice
in my ear, encouraging me and giving me a reason to believe I could do it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was there the whole 26.2 miles of the city where I spent
my teenage years. I recognised many places I had not been to for decades and on
this special day they became unforgettable landmarks on the route of a journey
which began just over a year ago.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A journey that started with a promise Diane made me make.
During the years of her battle against breast cancer, she would occasionally
speak about how I would cope without her. It was never a conversation that
lasted very long as I refused to even contemplate such an empty world and talk
of death was off the table. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was worried about my health. Typical of her spirit of generosity.
She was fighting cancer and she was worried about me. But I couldn’t talk about
it. I might have been 24 stone, suffering mobility problems with my weight and
having Type 2 diabetes, but I didn’t have cancer. How could I harp on about my
health while she was courageously fighting her life-or-death battle. What I was
suffering paled into insignificance next to her struggle. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet still she worried about me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would be fine, we would be fine, everything would be fine,
I said, once this terrible disease was driven out of our lives. Everything
would be all right, just wait and see. Then we can worry about me. Not before.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was no need for her to worry, I told her, no need to
discuss it. She was not dying. She was not going anywhere. There would never be
a time when I was without her. There would never be a time when I had to go to
bed alone, to wake alone, to live life alone. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At least, that’s what I told myself. It’s called hope, and
it is the bedrock of the human spirit. It lives in all of us and it’s what
drives us on when times are tough.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If Diane thought I could calmly sit there and rationally,
logically, almost coldly, plan a life without her, she was wrong. I couldn’t
even imagine such an existence, a life without the woman with whom I had shared
the happiest 21 years of my life, so no, no, no. No need to discuss this
because we will be fine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For her to be brave enough even to mention what would happen
if cancer took her life shows the kind of selfless person she was. And why she
was such an inspiration to me from the moment I first met her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, in February 2013, cancer consumed her body and our
lives changed forever. But wait. Cancer didn’t win. It didn’t take her from me.
There hasn’t been a moment since then when we haven’t been together. Our
relationship is simply different now, but not less strong. She is still always
here. Just not in the way she used to be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was her idea for me to look up and not down, ahead and
not behind. She didn’t tell me this during those conversations about life without
her. Like I said, I couldn’t, wouldn’t sit and talk about losing her like that.
No, she told me later, after cancer thought it had won. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She told me in the unspoken way soul-mates instinctively
know what the other is thinking or wants. She didn’t tell me to go to the gym.
I just one day got the notion to. A notion she put there without me realising
at the time. From there she kept prompting me further.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why else would I take up running after 40 years of not doing
a tap, decades of being the poster boy for couch potatoes everywhere? Why else
would I take up running when the furthest I ever ran was for a bus? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not only that, but why, after years of being the least
driven and competitive person you could wish to meet, did I suddenly become
energised with some steely determination to do anything that people told me I
couldn’t</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because Diane wanted me to. She did it as her side of The
Promise. So she was the one who got me to the start line in Liverpool last week
and she was the one who held me tight as I crossed the finish line.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And she wants me to do it all over again. And soon. And more
besides. She hasn’t finished on her promise to me yet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">One special member of
the Running With Diane story</span><o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRSpfyF2AjcmPE-4tweSU-1ytNY-fz6KPHFPXBoLmaKynQYok1K4HWQwXAqCzmhJRU7eZQRmCFPVnE7tFIg-xUXCtDvs4H72T15e-12xBNMQt9f1Y7yX6rgkpe98z4lh2qcn-VIy9DVI0/s1600/bev+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRSpfyF2AjcmPE-4tweSU-1ytNY-fz6KPHFPXBoLmaKynQYok1K4HWQwXAqCzmhJRU7eZQRmCFPVnE7tFIg-xUXCtDvs4H72T15e-12xBNMQt9f1Y7yX6rgkpe98z4lh2qcn-VIy9DVI0/s1600/bev+1.jpg" height="277" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are many people to whom I owe a great debt to for
getting me to that finish line. I’m not going to fall into the trap of naming
them all individually – partly because I might accidentally forget to include
someone and partly because there isn’t enough room on this computer’s memory to
list them all anyway.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I cannot go without mentioning Bev Walker. She has asked
to stay in the background in all this, but I can’t allow that. She was the
person who got me round on the day in under five-and-a-half hours, that magical
target which was the Rotterdam cutoff time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe I could have dragged myself round but not in that
time. She was simply awesome.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her offer to run in Liverpool with me lifted my spirits
enormously at a time when the doubts were creeping in and with her managing my
race, I knew my chances of success had suddenly shot up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She has a special place in the Running With Diane story now.
And she has my undying thanks for making it happen the way it did.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6nvaS9T2tNeI3TI5uciIXcE56IfMcTQ6dbmEqgnbAaat_VKKGOCu3EAXxTGJGbNdIdP2UMobACL5rZwoP-CDddAZThxLvBtLpudIjWuRpVuuSzCZWDpV5Ew8lhyphenhyphenyQCvVttsh46d3nlM/s1600/four.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-6nvaS9T2tNeI3TI5uciIXcE56IfMcTQ6dbmEqgnbAaat_VKKGOCu3EAXxTGJGbNdIdP2UMobACL5rZwoP-CDddAZThxLvBtLpudIjWuRpVuuSzCZWDpV5Ew8lhyphenhyphenyQCvVttsh46d3nlM/s1600/four.jpg" height="257" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5OQWsPwhbWQBzA1YuJRKdeKl59mF4U6VwUlcvNx32TIsrRmsMwD6-hciBCoWPtzFyULUznmNVCLhyphenhyphenDF-hln-La_eTJH-nVfke_S64CtSph8oan10RQTfxbg3GPQjKIaucqGdqJlciQgQ/s1600/pam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5OQWsPwhbWQBzA1YuJRKdeKl59mF4U6VwUlcvNx32TIsrRmsMwD6-hciBCoWPtzFyULUznmNVCLhyphenhyphenDF-hln-La_eTJH-nVfke_S64CtSph8oan10RQTfxbg3GPQjKIaucqGdqJlciQgQ/s1600/pam.jpg" height="320" width="241" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And to see my running pals Dave Pearson and Lesley Fisher at
the finish line – as well as my closest and most treasured friend in the world
Pam McVitie - to cheer me home was the icing on a very wonderful cake.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hang on. Did I say cake, Maria?</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4836595623810532597.post-7853369382332007622014-05-22T00:40:00.001-07:002014-05-22T00:41:32.430-07:00My turn, Diane<div class="MsoNormal">
NOW it’s my turn to show Diane round the streets where I
grew up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Liverpool Rock N Roll Marathon promises to be another
hugely emotional experience for the two if us. This time, I hope we cross that
finish line together, hand in hand, like I’ve dreamt it and lived it over and
over in my head. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I write this, there are just three days to go. Three days
until the day I write the closing lines of Chapter One in the story of this
life-changing experience.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve tried to keep a low profile and avoid making rash predictions,
like the ones I made as my first attempt in Rotterdam approached last month. I've learnt my lesson there. But I’m getting just a little bit excited as the next big day draws near, so I can’t
keep quiet any longer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After all, this is not about whether I do this or not on
Sunday, it’s about honouring the life of a very special woman, whose bravery as
she stared death in the face was extraordinary. My Diane.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s also about raising awareness of the charity Breast
Cancer Care and the incredible work its staff and supporters do for families
going through the same day-to-day hell that we did. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since I started running last August, around 30,000 more
women have discovered they have breast cancer. They – like the already 500,000-plus
families in the UK living their everyday lives under the cloud of this terrible
disease - endured that moment, that single moment when it is confirmed, when
your worst fears are realised and your hopes are dashed. The moment which
changes your life forever.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The moment you uncross your fingers, and stop believing in
miracles.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Breast Cancer Care is there for all these families right
where it matters, helping to rebuild lives shattered by this one moment.
Miracles still do happen, and gradually you restore the belief that one of them
could actually happen to you. For some it will, for others – like Diane – sadly not. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I run with Diane for all of them, whether or not a miracle is on
their way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That’s why this Sunday is so important. Perhaps even more
important than Rotterdam. I need to honour my pledge to the many wonderful
people who have supported the Running With Diane appeal, for all the heroes who
work for Breast Cancer Care and for every person going through what we did.
Whatever the future holds for them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Diane and I did our best in Rotterdam but I guess we just
weren’t quite ready. Now I feel the time might be right. And Liverpool still
holds a deeply personal meaning for us both.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She showed me her beloved Rotterdam where she spent her
happy childhood. Now it’s my turn to show her where I grew up, places she never
got to see when she was alive. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I never got to show her, but I wish now I had, where we
lived just outside Woolton Village on the way to Hunt’s Cross. Where I went to
school at Liverpool College in Mossley Hill. I wanted to show her Penny Lane
Records round the corner from school where I snuck to one day to buy the single
<i>Roundabout</i> by Yes the Monday it came
out in 1972. You weren’t allowed out of the school gates during school hours in
those days but I decided to risk it that lunchtime. I made it back without
being spotted. Just.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sadly the marathon route doesn’t quite reach that far south,
but it does course through streets I’ve trodden many times and there’ll be
plenty of memories for me to share with her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would have wanted to take her on a No72 bus out of the
Pier Head homeward bound for Hunt’s Cross, just as I had caught the last one home so
many times way back then, after another good night with great friends, a belly
full of Higsons and Bass and a smile as wide as the Mersey.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One night, the driver of the last bus home hadn’t bothered
to scroll round his destination so as he headed past Lime Street on his
way out of town the front of the bus still said “Pier Head”. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A man put his arm out up ahead and the bus pulled up. After
three attempts to focus on where the floor of the bus beside the driver was,
the man asked to go to the Pier Head.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m not going to the Pier Head,” said the driver. “I’m
going to Hunt’s Cross.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I want to go to Pier Head,” said the man, “it says Pier
Head on the front.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It says India on the
****ing tyres, I’m not going there either,” said the driver. And the man
retreated and headed back off into the night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s made me smile then and it still does over 40 years
later. I think they call it rapier wit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A little further on, the driver’s radio played <i>Baker Street</i> by Gerry Rafferty. It was
the first time I’d heard it. This week,
I’ve had another of his songs in my head. <i>Get
It Right Next Time</i>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>No use complainin’,
don’t you worry, don’t you whine<br />
Cause if you get it wrong, you’ll get it right next time.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got it wrong in Rotterdam but can't complain. And though I worried, I promised
myself I certainly wouldn’t whine. There would a chance soon to get it right
next time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And here we are. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Back at the foot of another mountain, looking up, saying
“Bring it on.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The race starts at the Albert Dock. When I was living in
Liverpool back in the 70s that was all it was. A dock called Albert. Grim,
unloved, an eyesore. Now it is transformed, home to galleries, the Tate, cafes,
craft shops, designer outlets, the Beatles Story, quayside apartments and
sailing clubs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ah, The Beatles. More song titles spring to mind. <i>Help!</i> would probably have to be the
first, if I’m honest. Then maybe <i>The Long
and Winding Road</i>? Or how about <i>Run
For Your Life</i>? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the end, only one sums out how I got here, how I made
it to the start line and how it became possible to even dream this moment, let
alone achieve it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>With a Little</i> (it
ought to say ‘<i>a lot of’</i>) <i>Help From My Friends.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18297777713153529154noreply@blogger.com0