Redbush Runner

I didn't enter this year's London Marathon ballot.  I have decided that there is enough rejection in life in general, without adding to it in your running life.  After all, isn't running supposed to be the safe haven, the place where we go to escape from negative thoughts? Despite my non-participation, I do find myself feeling a bit peeved on behalf of others who are experiencing rejection this week, especially those who have been trying for a decade or more without success.  It just isn't fair, is it?  Yes, it's random but that's not the same as being fair.  To be fair, they would have to give those who have had the most rejections a go, but that's not how it works.  Of course, social media is awash with threads on this topic, the usual mixture of elation, despair and "what the hell have I done?"  I've been giving Facebook a fairly wide berth, but I've seen enough to know that it is just like it is every year. Here are 10 things you ar...

This year it's been a case of less is more, as far as entering races is concerned.  I've found that by just doing a handful of races, I really do look forward to them.  I couldn't be doing one every weekend, like some people do.  It's not the actual running - I think I would be fine with that - but all the pinning on race numbers, standing around waiting for the off, queuing for loos etc. can get a bit tedious. This weekend we headed to Blackpool, the undisputed 'Vegas of the North', to take part in a 10K night race called Run the Lights.  (There is a 5K option too)  Forget 'Colour Dashes'.  This annual event, organised by Fylde Coast Runners, is the most colourful race you're likely to find anywhere - a bracing run along a traffic-free promenade combined with a spectacular light show.  It doesn't get better than that!  Far more enjoyable than having people stand on the sidelines chucking powder paint in your face.  I don't remember ever be...

Sunday April 7 th brought our first race of the year.   We had unfinished business with the City of Lincoln 10K.   Last year the Beast from the East stuck its oar in and the race was postponed until summer, which was no good for us as Rory was in Hong Kong.   So, we were really hoping that everything would run smoothly this year and we would get to tick this particular race off our list. We were feeling rather unprepared for a 10K race however.   Since my injury just before Christmas I have been sticking mainly to 5Ks.   I’ve only run one 10k in the past five months and that was on the treadmill, so I really hoped I would be able to cope on the day.   Typically, as often seems to be the case in the few days before a race, my legs were giving me all kinds of niggles, which worried me.   You wonder how much is your imagination or you being over-sensitive, but  I still live in fear of my calf ‘going’ when I’m in the middle of a race.   ...

We spent the weekend in West Sussex for my mother-in-law's memorial party and the scattering of her ashes. We have visited the village of West Wittering many, many times over the years of course, but never has it looked as beautiful as it did this weekend.  There were so many absolutely amazing things - the shimmering orange moon lighting up the sky on our journey down, Itchenor Harbour shrouded in eerie but hauntingly gorgeous mist, early on Saturday morning as we drove to parkrun, deer leaping in the fields and darting right across Ror's path as we ran on Sunday, squirrels playing in the treetops in the garden, a spectacular murmuration of starlings and of course the mighty waves crashing against the sands on a sunlit beach, Ilse's last resting place.  It was as if she was stage managing the whole occasion, making it extra special.  Three days of the most amazing spring weather - how lucky were we to have that in February? It was a hugely emotional weekend.  No...

Throughout January, Rory and I took part in the 'Running with Refugees' virtual run.  Proceeds from the run go towards UNHCR, helping people who are struggling in refugee camps around the world.  80 years ago, Rory's mother, Ilse and her two sisters came to England on the Kindertransport after Hitler's annexation of Austria.  As a result, throughout her life Ilse passionately supported charities which offered help to refugee children. So, when we signed up for 'Running with Refugees' just before Christmas, we thought it was quite an appropriate event to be involved with.  However, we didn't then realise quite how appropriate a tribute it would turn out to be. In the New Year, Ilse was diagnosed with terminal cancer.  She was given just weeks to live.  January for us was a sad and somewhat surreal month, splitting our time between home and trips down to West Sussex to visit Ilse, first in hospital and later in a nursing home.  It was a month filled ...

As the year draws to a close, runners everywhere are naturally turning their minds to next year's challenges and goals.  I've already decided that 2019 is going to be about rediscovering the fun side of running, without feeling the need to push and test myself too much.  Of course, there will still be challenges, but my new mantra  - "no fun no gain" - will continue to guide me. As the new year approaches, it's very easy to find yourself signing up for a year long accumulative mileage challenge.  I managed 1000 kilometres quite easily this year, so the next logical step for me would be to set myself the goal of running 1000 miles in 2019.  I'm not going to though.  I'm quite happy to see what happens, but I want to be guided by my love of running, not by a feeling that I simply must complete a challenge.  If I notch up 1000 miles next year, of course I'll be proud, but the last thing I want is to force myself to do a minimum number of miles per week ...

Yesterday Rory and I took part in the 5K Santa Dash at Elsecar, hosted by the wonderful 'It's Grim up North Running'.  (Actually it was closer to 6K, but as the organisers cheekily said on their Facebook page, think of that extra half mile as a Christmas present!) I've been out for nearly three weeks with a calf strain and it's made me miserable, anxious and rather 'Bah humbug' about the whole festive season.  Whenever I'm injured, no matter how much I tell myself that I will get better and run again, I can never quite believe it.  It takes away all my confidence.  Running is my rock and I feel adrift whenever I don't have it in my life.  It's scary when your body lets you down and particularly so when it happens suddenly, without warning.  When you're out running and you feel a sudden sharp pain in your calf and then a tightening, which reduces you to a hobble within seconds, you feel very vulnerable, particularly if you're off-road in...