Ahead and then behind

To date 136 running miles - 4 miles behind target


Having set myself a weekly 20 mile target I've not yet worked out my own 'rules' about how the 20 can be stretched, bent or flexed. I ended January 25 miles ahead of my target mileage but now find myself 4 miles behind and only 2 weeks in to February. Clearly I blame the most wonderful week we have spent skiing in France. 


Simon's Father moved to France 20+ years ago and now lives just over the French border from Geneva. It's a brilliant location to base yourself for a short skiing holiday. The 800 mile drive, 17 hours door to door, is a little challenging but needs must, especially when visiting family!  


Over the years we've taught ourselves to ski - not a lesson between us. And it shows!!  Ben and Rosie were introduced as babies to mountains and snow, being dragged up the Voiron in the off road buggy, strapped into a sledge and launched downhill, through to having mini ski's strapped to their feet. This year both of my children skied passed my comfort zone and became the encourager's and enablers to their, far more cautious, parents. 


I did fully intend to run whilst we were away. Running tights, trainers all packed. We drove down to Dover Friday night, spent a night in a travel lodge and caught the 10am ferry to Dunquerque. Drove all day (French motorways are really very dull but the service stations decidedly more pleasant than the dross we're used to)  arriving in Feigere about 10:30pm. Sunday morning dawned, I read a chapter or two of 'Feet in the Clouds' (very inspirational must read) and, regardless of how awful my legs felt, I was absolutely up for a run. 


It was about -11c outside, possibly colder. Off we set planning on a 6 - 8 mile trot around the local area. Less than half a mile out and my shins were on fire. Every step I took felt like red hot pokers (not the flowering variety) being drawn across my shins. We walked a bit, I loosened my trainers - new ones, could it be these that were causing the problem. We ran a bit but no better. Less than a mile and a bit out and we turned round, giving up. 800 miles and being fit to ski had to take priority. I only hoped that my legs would be good on the slopes. 


When I say 'ski' - this is a relative term. We are a bit of a motley crew from appearance through to application. Si's Father has a bit of a collection of ski gear from various children growing up, donations / acquisitions etc... We have, for years, never had to hire any as there would always be something that fitted. Style is irrelevant - last years colours? No, they're last decade! 
Can we ski blacks? No, not on your nelly. For those of you that haven't skied - the grading on runs goes from Yellow - nearly flat, Green - nice gentle beginners slopes, Blue - steady, Red - steeper and more technical, Black - had fear sensors removed and no sense of self preservation left. I ski Blue. I like Blue. Blue is a good colour! 


Do Ski miles count in my running total? I don't think so. We did do a 'sports tracker' on an afternoons skiing - in only a few runs we'd clocked more than 10 miles but many of those were sat on lifts to get back to the top! 


The highlight of our week had to be the fortunate catching up with family friends who,coincidentally, were skiing in Morzine, just down the road. Stan and Chris are very capable skiers who shared a couple of days with us, in between their milk tray black runs and 'off piste' adventures, giving us massive confidence and an opportunity to try runs we would never have dared on our own. Most importantly it was the time we shared together, reinforcing old familial bonds and building new ones. A very special opportunity that I will cherish. 

Ben, Simon, Chris, Stanley, Rosie
In the middle of the mountains at Morzine

Skiing is a really inclusive and family orientated activity, at least in France it is. Children from being able to walk through to their Grandparents all swish their way down runs suited to their own abilities. I watched with massive admiration as a Father and his son skied down a run alongside us. His son was in a chair on a sled. He had downs syndrome and, judging by the size of the smile on his face and his woops of glee, was having the greatest adventure swooshing down the slopes with his hero Dad.  


We had one or two 'experiences' - finding ourselves up a mountain with the most black looking blue run ahead of us - but the whole week was a brilliant experience. Very physical and using different muscles to running but hopefully that will be of benefit in the longer run. 


The views, feeling and experience of being very high up in the mountains, clear blue skies above you, cloud below you, is really quite something beyond words. 

17 hours and 800 miles home, Sunday morning and I donned my old fell runners and set off for a few miles to test my legs. They felt great. None of the pain from last weekends horror and 6 miles later I arrived back home to set about the cleaning and washing inherent of being a mother! 


I have no doubt I'll catch-up my 4 miles - the skiing was well worth it! 

NHS, Snow, Ice and Health

It's been a strange and emotionally challenging couple of weeks for me. I wasn't sure if I'd write about it here but now I've started to type I think I will.

A couple of weeks ago on a Saturday morning, getting dressed to go for a run, I found a large lump in my right breast. I can't begin to express in spoken or written words what feelings and thoughts went through my mind. Terrified and numb, I didn't want to say the words out loud because that would make it true and real. 


I ran on Saturday and then Sunday was the Stanbury Splash. All the way round that I was determined to not let anything get the better of me. Monday saw me on the Dr's doorstep at 8:00am. The only reliable way to get an appointment at our GP's is to be on the doorstep at opening time, it worked! 


9:30am and I had to say the words out loud - "I've found a lump" - promptly bursting into floods of tears and admitting to the GP just how terrified I was. Sure enough on being examined she confirmed it was a lump and explained, very patiently, what would happen next. Our wonderful NHS has a target that means you must be offered an appointment within 2 weeks of referral. I left the surgery emotionally reeling and set off to go in to work. The only way I was going to get through the days to come was to keep busy. Sitting around at home would have left far too much time for my overactive imagination to project forward and write the story of my future, based on nothing more than the unknown. 


Given that I rarely take time off sick or have unplanned time off work and my electronic work calendar is open for all to see, I was going to have to tell one or two work colleagues or they would be concerned about my significantly erratic behaviour! People are just brilliant. Of the handful of people I needed to tell, no one asked any questions or put any pressure on me, all of them gave unconditional offers of support and help. Most importantly they gave me the space for me to deal with this in the way I needed to. 


Thursday, finally, a phone call from the Hospital to offer an appointment for the following Friday. I reluctantly accepted I would have to wait a further 8 days before I had any idea if my worst fears were true. I must have sounded pretty desperate on the phone though as at tea time, another call to offer me a cancellation for Tuesday! 


Friday's birthday celebrations were a bit hard. I really did have a lovely time, had a great run, spent time with friends, my children were wonderful but all of it I experienced with an underlying sense of fear and dread. 


Tuesday - Airedale Hospital is a great local hospital. They have set up a breast clinic where in one appointment you go through the complete battery of tests and screening to give you a diagnosis there and then. Sitting and waiting to see the consultant was perhaps the longest wait of my life. I was definitely the youngest there. I proceeded through the consultant examination, through to a mammogram (I won't describe in any detail but they're not very dignified!) then on to an ultrasound. Each procedure separated by sitting with my fellow women, all dressed in wrap around hospital issue blue gown tops (Gok would have a field day).   It was in the ultrasound room where the relief finally came! Quite matter-of-factly the nurse said, "yes, look, there, it's a cyst", turning the screen so I could see she quietly explained what the picture told her. It wasn't some enormous toxic cancerous growth that my imagination had created over the last 10 days. It was a cyst full of fluid, which was drained there and then, as if by magic the lump was gone! 


The consultant confirmed all was perfectly healthy and normal, the nurse gave me a hug and I set off home. 


After making a couple of calls to share the relief and reassure all those I'd made anxious that all was well, I donned my fell runners and set off across the moors. Up to Oxenhope Stoop, across to Top Withens, snow, ice, wind, hail. With not a soul in sight I ran with Blue, screamed, shouted, cried, laughed, sang and wooped my way across frozen bogs and iced up paths. 

Blue loves the snow for a boisterous roll around

View across to Top Withens - good job there was no one else around! 

I have a few friends who have battled and survived breast cancer. They are amazing women who have grit and determination way beyond anything I can begin to imagine. My utmost respect to them, their families and the health professionals that care for them. If you don't self examine every month, please start as early diagnosis and treatment has much better outcomes. The Breast Cancer Care website has buckets of great information - check it out.  


Running and my beautiful moors have helped me hugely over this last couple of weeks. The snow and ice have presented their own challenges but brought their own beauty and serenity too. The Pennine Bridleway relay, I should have been running on Sunday, has now been cancelled due to the adverse weather conditions which is hugely disappointing. Instead I shall set off and run our local moors in the snow and challenging conditions because that's what winter fells are like and I'm alive to enjoy them.