It feels a little like we need to collectively get on with it now. This year I am not at all keen on this in between time. I feel like I am waiting. Waiting for what, I don’t know. But waiting can be a full time occupation so it’s annoying. So in an attempt to not wait for whatever it is I am waiting for, I went for a little run. I even warmed up with some stretches first.
I was hoping for maybe a 2 mile run/walk, ideally pain free. But as I set off I realised I hadn’t actually set any run/walk intervals and I also didn’t really want to stop to walk as I was plodding my way down the hill and wondering whether I should have put another layer on. I was cold. So I kept going. I had a route in mind. But as I got further along, I realised I really did not want to go that route. I had a 15 second walk to gather my thoughts, turned right down a road I am not sure I have ever run down before, and headed towards the canal. I wasn’t settled. I threw in another 20 second walk just to see if I could breathe like a normal human and then set off again to at least claim the mile.
So I basically ran a mile and then called it. My right ankle was tightening again – mostly as I settled into walking though and my hip was niggly. The canal was also busy. On a short stretch between the two bridges I used today, I counted 7 dog walkers and at least 10 dogs. I did not want other people. I just need to get into the habit of going earlier again. I like the time when I have the towpath mostly to myself, or only share it with others who also welcome the solitude – passing in a fleeting moment that needs only to be acknowledged with a nod. None of this constant chirpy ‘good morning’ that I had to endure today. I actually quite like greeting strangers, saying hello, maybe even making a remark about the weather. It’s a nice, friendly thing and it makes me smile. But not when I am trying to run. Just leave me be in my misery and effort. I’ll nod, I’ll smile and I might even force out a ‘hi’ but a full ‘Good Morning’. No.
Anyway, I was a bit grumpy with my lack of ability to run more than a mile (or my unwillingness). But as I stopped, a group of ducks and swans came to see me. I know they wanted feeding really but it felt like they were coming to acknowledge my effort and make me smile. So I walked the last stretch of canal happily watching them, crossed the bridge and walked up the hill. I have zero hill fitness so I deliberately walked up the most direct, but also steepest route. There is only one way to get hill fit…
It was nice to be out. It’s always nice to be out.
So yesterday, it turns out, was just a really stupid day. Today is less stupid. I am still struggling a bit. I am at least wearing the right socks (for now anyway, there’s still time to change my mind) and the fact that it is Sunday seems less irritating than yesterday being Saturday. In other words, my brain is less weird. I am back to rolling my eyes at the fitness crap as I scroll passed. I could block some of the content I suppose, but that would require engagement on some level – so nah.
I did my measurements earlier and added them to the Body Coach app – wide load sign required I think. And then I went for a little run. Mainly because I didn’t want to. I thought about how far I wanted to go and had vague ideas about 3 or 4 miles but then I remembered that I can’t actually run at the moment. So I decided to just not worry about it, go by feel and just aim to get out there and move a bit. I mostly ran for a mile. A slow plod on the downhill and flat and then, on the one slightly up hill slope, a lamp post to lamp post run/walk. Then my right ankle started tightening up so I decided to walk back rather than risk actual pain. By the time I had walked up the hill, there was some pain so stopping and walking home was the right thing to do.
I also tried out my birthday trainers – a pair of black wide fitting Brooks Adrenalines. They’re good. Comfy, supportive without being too springy. No squished toes, no foot pain.
Once I got back and sat down with Kath while she finished her workout, the niggle spread into my hip. Nonetheless I did the first workout on the Body Coach App. I’ve done that workout several times over the years and it seems every time I forget just how much completely inane babble there is. Does Joe ever shut up? I know he’s trying to be helpful and motivating and maybe it works because I did finish the workout. Then I remembered that I am too old to not stretch so stretched. I am quite pleased with that sequence. Recently the sequence has been more like: I should run, yeah don’t wanna, I can run later. Later comes and goes. I didn’t run, oh well, I can run tomorrow. I could do a workout instead. Hm, yes but I’m not wearing a bra. I can’t possibly put a sports bra on now. That’s just too much. I should do some stretches. I’ll do those before bed. Then I am in bed, not having stretched. Repeat.
So first, praise for this morning’s me who put a sports bra on. Oh she was a wise woman! Then thanks to my silly brain for recognising that, given I was already wearing a sports bra, already sweaty and already in the exercise-y headspace, not doing the Body Coach workout after my run now would just be ridiculous and such a waster opportunity. And then thanks to hungry me who really wanted lunch but decided that another 10 minutes really didn’t make a difference and anyway, it would take me that long to recover from the workout and I was already sitting on the mat – stretches just made sense.
So there. I wouldn’t say I am having a good day. I still feel a bit flat. But I am having a positive day full of baby steps towards having a better day tomorrow.
It was my birthday yesterday. It was a lovely day, as was Christmas day before that and Christmas Eve. They were all lovely. They were as we planned them, they were calm and quiet, I enjoyed cooking and yesterday I enjoyed Kath taking over and being looked after and spoilt. We had lovely food with our mums, cuddles with cats and not a ‘should’ in sight. It was exactly as I had hoped it would be. And today I feel completely flat. Somehow it feels like the last 2 or 3 days were not at all what I wanted, like they were all about other people and not for me. I don’t know why I feel like that. There was absolutely nothing in those days that would indicate that. Had I described what I wanted before the 3 days, I would have described our Christmas.
I know my birthday is sort of a nuisance. I mean, who wants more people, socialising or food on Boxing Day, who wants a birthday celebration? I am so used to it obviously and it doesn’t actually bother me, except today it does. I am irritated by happy birthday wishes on Facebook – assuming that people only sent them because FB reminded them to, same with LinkedIn. As if that is a bad thing (if you did write on my timeline – thank you. It was lovely to hear from you in the moment even if my brain is being weird today). I am actually just irritated by everything. The fact that it is Saturday has annoyed me all day, as has the fact that I put the ‘wrong’ socks on this morning. The wrong socks? I mean FFS, I just put on socks… at some point my brain decided they were wrong. It’s just an annoying, irritating and fucking stupid day.
I renewed my Body Coach app today. Obviously that was annoying because I had a discount code that I then couldn’t find and it should have been a 2 minute job that took forever. Given my total lack of fitness and the brain fuck that comparison therefore is, I decided to re-set the app completely and start all over again. As part of that I had to put my height and weight into the app… So, I am 47, the heaviest I have ever been, probably also the widest but I am saving the joy of measurements for tomorrow. I am also unfit as nicely highlighted by our Christmas morning run/walk and our Birthday trot out which was a mile of run/walk and then 2 miles of walk because my hips and feet were protesting. We went for a walk this afternoon. A lovely walk that was fucking annoying and which sent my right hip and right foot into proper bitch mode. Guess who hasn’t been stretching enough and who hasn’t done any strength work for months. Oh me, that’s me. Idiot.
And then, because today is a stupid day, I was scrolling, and I suddenly realised that for weeks now, if not longer, I have been bombarded by weight loss or fitness content on my social media. It’s relentless. Every second post I see is either ‘hormonal weight gain gone with this magic exercise/herbal tea’; ’50 habits you need to ditch of you’re heading for 50′; ‘ten things peri menopausal women are doing wrong in the gym’ or some nonsense about how you can get lean in 6 weeks in just 15 minutes a day… No wonder my brain is fried. Every bit of messaging seems to be ‘you need to be thinner’. Didn’t we do this already in the 90s? We do not need to go back there! I thought we had switched to ‘strong not skinny’ and a different way of thinking about exercise. I thought movement was good per se, not because movement might help weight loss. I see some content that acts as a counter balance but I have to go look for that. I nearly didn’t renew the Body Coach app because I saw several transformation pics as I was looking for my discount code – all of them emphasised the weight loss. All – Of – Them.
The fitness stuff on social media is awful. I have been scrolling past almost all of it because I don’t care what some teenage influencer thinks I should or shouldn’t be doing, or how fast, according to some hot shot, let me check, social media personality, I should be running a mile or whether I run a 5 k faster than a list of supposed celebrities. Or at least I thought I didn’t care. But just the fact that it is there constantly has obviously had an impact. I am less keen than ever to go back to the gym. I don’t belong there. I don’t want to get on the bike, don’t belong on Zwift either, that’s for people who can, you know, actually cycle rather than go backwards at the first sign of a hill. And as for running. Hm. I have no business being out there pretending to be a runner. I am not a runner. Maybe I was once but maybe those hopes and dreams about things I wanted to do should just stay dreams, maybe they are no longer achievable. That. Or maybe today is just a really stupid, annoying day. Maybe I just don’t like forced transitions and artificial cycles and the pressure to re-invent myself. Birthdays are one of those – ‘what’s it like to be 47?’ Such an idiotic question, I am a day older than yesterday… nothing is different. And then of course the new year is coming at us fast with all that comes with the New Year, New You crap. And for me birthday and new year are annoyingly close together giving me a delightful double whammy of ‘do better, be better, this is your time to make changes and improve, become a better version of yourself…’ Urgh. Is 2026 going to see the new me? Is this year, where I, aged 47, finally get my shit together? Is 2026 going to be my year? I fucking hope not. That sounds exhausting and people-y.
Anyway, I think the best thing that can be done with a day like today is to turn it into yesterday as quickly as possible. I am not even going to try and read because every book I have picked up today has been irritating. Tomorrow we stretch, take our magnesium and take it one step at a time and maybe some of those steps have purpose, maybe some of them are even running steps… because today is just a fucking stupid, irritating and annoying day but I am still me and the impossible is still out there, waiting to be done.
I am struggling for a title because the usual ‘starting again’, ‘back to basics’… don’t quite fit. I had a therapy session this morning which was well timed because I have been struggling this week. Talking it through was so helpful and it all makes so much more sense now- I was/am completely over peopled. After a busy week that included a day on main campus, presentation to the Executive, 3 days of conferencing, running a team day, marshalling at a half marathon and then the great north run, my system is in shock. That tracks!
We talked about movement and running and whether I was in a need/have to or want space. I had already planned start a 5km running programme and do the first run today so as I was driving round to the car park at Bolton Abbey and getting sorted I was interviewing myself in my head:
So, Jess, do you enjoy running the moment?
No not really.
Really? Why is that?
It just feels hard and like I am not making any progress at all
But you still want to run? Tell us a bit more about that
Yes. I know the joy it can bring. The joy of being outside, of being in nature, feeling it, the joy of being able to move.
When you look back at your happiest running what comes to mind?
Well, running or run walking a loop at Bolton Abbey of whatever distance and having coffee and breakfast afterwards.
And then I laughed at myself. Running is only partly about the running itself. It’s also about the being able to run or walk and then have coffee, to not be in pain or so knackered that the only option is to go straight home. It’s about ticking runs off and the sense of achievement that comes with consistency. It’s about saying yes to long walks or uphill adventures without worrying about whether I can do it.
But mostly it’s about the joy of being able to feel the rain on my face, smell the rain on the car park tarmac, hear it rustling as it bounces its way through the trees. Running is a way for me to find joy in the everyday that I don’t get from anything else. I’d lost sight of that.
So I set off on my first run of the programme. Running 30 seconds, walking 2 minutes eight times. I deliberately turned my face into the rain and bounced into puddles. I laughed at myself as I sucked the autumn air into my lungs and wrapped myself in the solitude of the empty paths.
The run almost finished too soon. I ordered coffee and a bacon sarnie to relive a happy running tradition and to offer my system a gentle and calm restart.
I love running in so many weird and wonderful ways.
Last weekend was a weekend of running adventures. Different adventures and experiences. On Saturday Kath took part in the last of the 2025 Due North CIC trail half marathon and 10 km series. I marshalled and had a lovely 90 minutes or so at the top of Malham Cove clapping and cheering on runners doing both the half marathon route and the 10km route before heading back to the finish to help hand out goodie bags and pies. It was glorious and energising and inspiring. Kath did really well, the runners were fabulous and it felt inclusive, supportive and fun. Maybe one day I will get myself in the right space to have a go – at the 10km route.
Sunday was the Great North Run. I hadn’t trained for this. I had barely run since the Rasselbock Half in July and I hadn’t trained for that either. Was this a stupid idea? Well yes and no. I thought about pulling out several times. I got messages reminding me to trust my training and enjoy it – good advice, assuming there has been any training to speak of. So what was I thinking going in? Well, I don’t like DNS. DNS is worse than DNF. To me not starting just feels like complete failure. The only times I won’t start an event are situations where I am either genuinely injured or not well or where I know I won’t finish and starting would mean that I have to rely on event volunteers or staff for help or where I present a risk of being a medical emergency. If not finishing has minimal impact on others, I will start even if I might not make it. Psychologically, I had to start this one. For me. To silence the voices in my head that have been getting louder and louder, insisting that there is no way I can currently get round a road half marathon.
I was anxious. I didn’t much like the crowds as we walked through Newcastle to the start, found the baggage bus, queued for the loos, made our way to the assembly area and stood around for a while. I found my zen somehow. Then we started moving forwards in little waves. Then the red arrows flew over making me smile. Then we were off. Kath set off and I very quickly lost sight of her as I tried to settle into my run/walk. I didn’t really like being in the wave we were in because I was surrounded by much faster runners. This was the pace that was ambitious but realistic when we signed up, before I just didn’t manage to get myself out there with any consistency. It was the pace I have managed to get close to before. But right now I am a long long way off that pace. I was really conscious of getting in other people’s way. I tried really hard to tuck in and not take up space. I tried really hard to be ok about my run/walk.
The support was incredible but also overwhelming and at times it felt like the crowds were closing in. I had flashbacks to the London Marathon and people getting right in my face and I could feel panic rising. What can I feel? Sticky – my fingers are sticky from my drinks bottle. What can I see – a unicorn, a runner in a unicorn costume just ahead of me. What can I hear – my name being shouted with lots of encouragement. And I am grounded again for a little while before the panic comes again – in waves. I don’t feel like I belong. I am still running 30 seconds and walking 30 seconds. It is all actually going to plan. It’s all fine and yet it isn’t. I battle the panic from just over 1.5 miles to the 5 mile marker. I am walking much more now and I can’t quite settle. I do the maths in my head – how long will I be out here, how much longer to get to the finish, how long will Kath have to wait. I resist the temptation to check the app to see how she is doing. If I get my phone out of my pocket I might call her to say I am calling it. I might cry. I am crying. I think about maybe just not doing this.
Waiting to start
I wonder if I can get to half way. My right foot hurts, my hips hurt, I keep scanning my body and the message is always the same – there is some pain but none of it is serious and none of it is a reason to stop. Mile 6 feels like it takes forever. It was actually faster than the previous mile. As I pass 10k I suddenly feel a bit more positive. Maybe there is a slight break in the crowds coming past me. I’m not sure. I just feel less anxious. I start to take more notice of the signs and the support. I start to feel a bit more like it is ok for me to take up some space. A bloke from 2 waves behind me walks along side me for a few paces to fuel, asking if we are nearly there yet and I cheer him up by telling him we are very nearly half way. He tells me I am doing great and then disappears off into the distance. Somehow the interaction makes me smile. I realise that an earlier one had played on my mind – I had dropped into a walk and a bloke came past me, turned to look at me and said ‘For fuck sake’. I am pretty sure I didn’t block him. I am pretty sure I wasn’t in his way. I am pretty sure he didn’t have to change his line. I hope that taking out whatever was going on with him on me, helped him get it done, I also hope that he has a particularly energetic batch of fleas hatch in his pubes.
Mile 8 was a big thing in my head. I am not sure why – other than maybe running maths. I was thinking in 15 minute miles. I knew I was going slower but for the purposes of my running maths, 15 minute miles worked well. 4 miles an hour. Which meant that if I could get to 8 miles then I only had to do another hour and then I would only have a mile to go. The additional minutes and the .1 don’t feature in running maths. When I made it to 8 miles I knew I would finish. I didn’t know how long it would take me but I knew. The doubts about finishing and whether maybe it would be better to pull out were gone. I settled into the pain. I kept telling myself that I only had to keep doing this for another hour. If I could push through for an hour I would be nearly there. Then we saw the red arrows. I am not sure there are many places on the course where you can see them so this felt like my own personal 8 mile celebration.
I tried to run a little every mile – and I did but I think in miles 11 and 12 I only ran for 30 seconds each – it hurt. I kept pushing the walking – that hurt too. I found focus in the pain somehow. I knew it wasn’t dangerous pain, I knew I wasn’t doing serious damage or injuring myself. It was just my body telling me that it wasn’t prepared for this and that it really wasn’t entirely happy about what I was asking it to do.
As I made my way down the short sharp slope before the ‘finishing straight’, two women passed me and one said to the other ‘now prepare yourself for the longest mile of your life’. And it is. You turn and it feels like you should be there but you still have a mile to go. The support is loud and brilliant. After an age I got to the 800 metres to go sign. I kept walking as fast as I could and talking to myself. Both firm and reassuring because giving up now would be stupid wouldn’t it. Never mind the longest mile – the 400 metres from the 800m to go to the 400m to go sign were at least 3 miles long. It felt like forever. I started jogging really slowly at the 400m sign. I glanced at my watch and realised that I would probably just get under 3 hours 40 if I kept pushing. I got there. I crossed the finish line and felt – well nothing really. I walked and got water, a medal and a bag/t-shirt and made my way through the crowds to find Kath (she did really well). We queued for an hour or so to get on a bus back into town and got back to the hotel about 10 minutes before our dinner reservation. Job done.
So reflections. I can do hard things. This was hard. I am annoyed at myself for lack of training and the resulting lack of fitness is just embarrassing and silly. No excuses. I didn’t do the work. The Great North Run was not fun. This particular ‘impossible’ was not fun to do at all. It just was. I am glad I pushed through and did it. It was a good mental exercise and I am proud of myself for coming through those first 5 miles of waves of panic. 2 days after the run I am sore, sore but not broken. This was my slowest road half marathon ever, slower than the first one I ever did at Disney World in 2013. Over an hour slower than my PB and nowhere near my running ambition which is to run strong and happy. The positives – I am mentally tough. My superpower might just be a complete inability to accept that I can’t do something. Realistically, starting on Sunday was a bad idea. It was always going to be pretty awful and yet doing it and it being awful was still better than not doing it. Because I have done it, I know what needs work. I have pushed myself into a place where I want to do the work. Doing the GNR on Sunday was the test I think. It was always going to tell me whether I am done with longer distances or whether I want to keep trying. And I’m not done. While I was out there, as painful and horrible as it was, I also knew I wanted to be there and I wanted to be back and do it again, properly, with training and preparation. Sometimes doing hard things is about saying, yes, this is hard, and it hurts and that’s my fault and next time, I’ll be ready for this. Next time won’t be easy, but maybe next time will be a happier hard.
really (not) a runner 