Dumping “Body Image” in Return for “Body Love”

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Diet culture is everywhere. It is pretty difficult to avoid, especially when dental adverts are colluding success rates with weight loss rates, and big influencers like Kim Kardashian are partnering with companies like Flat Tummy Co. to promote appetite suppressing products to their hoards of followers. It is difficult to believe that being in a body that doesn’t fit the beauty ideal of slim, toned and strong is OK. It’s hard to believe that you too are an acceptable body or that you can run a marathon.

Bryony Gordon and Jayda Seza ran the marathon this year in their underwear to show that runner’s bodies come in many different shapes and sizes. Being a different size to the bountifully pushed ideal does not mean you can’t enjoy physical activity, that you can’t be strong and most of all that you can’t be healthy. There are so many brilliant body positivity activists now showcasing that you can be “bigger” and healthy. There is a wave of activists fighting back against the body fascism and fat phobia in the name of “health”.

Since recovering from my eating disorder admittedly with a helping push from my meds increasing my weight in a way that was out of my control, I learned to relinquish any form of “control” over my body. I knew this time around on Quetiapine that it worked for me, but for it to keep on working for me I had to stay on it. Without it I relapse, plain and simple. A toss-up occurred between keeping a sense of control over my “recovered” weight and remaining mentally unwell, or relinquishing such control and giving the Quetiapine a real chance to work in the longer term. This was a very scary time for me. I have spent a decade of my life at war with my body, trying to control it and living in the safety confines of my eating disorder. Suddenly, recovery took a whole new turn – I wasn’t only maintaining a “healthy” weight, I was letting this medication cause havoc with my appetite and metabolism. If I had any hope of maintaining some stability with my moods though, this was it. Having tried most other medications suitable for my illness that this was the one that worked if I let it – and by let it I mean staying on it regardless of the weight gain. I made the only decision I could if I wanted to really start building any sort of future for myself. I stayed on the medication.

I learned a lot during this time. I learned that being well in a bigger body was definitely the right decision. My fitness journey into running, climbing and falling in love with movement, in addition to my studies in anatomy and physiology have caused a complete dimensional shift, and ultimately an entirely different view for me, on what body image is.

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Although I am no longer a skinny, my stomach has an extra padding of fat as opposed to the almost concave structure of previous years, and my thighs touch for the first time in my life. I have boobs, which are great although still slight, and it is easier to catch myself at an angle wherein which I have a double chin on show. I can shake my arms, and they wibble a little, and I have speckled cellulite over my thighs and bum when I tense. Speaking of which, I still have absolutely no bum. I need a larger size of clothes than I ever have previously yet still, no bum, and you know what? I am the most comfortable I have ever been with my body.

Yes, it looks a certain way in pictures and mirrors – but really, my body is not a picture. My body was not made solely to look a certain way. My body was made to function, to breathe, contract, relax, move, jump, run and skip for joy. My body lets me enjoy the senses of living be they the smell of fresh bread or dog shit on my shoe. My body brings me enjoyment in food, and digests it pretty well as energy in order to continue functioning as the amazing, complex piece of biological machinery that I am. Not only do I function, but my body allows for me to have a mind and a conscience. My body allows for emotions, and it fights diseases so I can still keep on enjoying experiences and living healthily. My body is not a picture. My body is so much more than that.

The sum of all this? I value my body more for what it can do, where it can take me, and the experiences it can give me. I’m no longer so hung up or concerned with looking a particular way, but more in doing particular things. Sure sometimes I have a momentary dip in confidence, sometimes I catch myself iterating diet culture messages of too much, need to lose weight, pain is gain and all that tom fuckery – but my choice in responding is to try to check in with myself when I notice these thoughts cropping up. I remind myself I am more than my mirror image and always will be.

I want to climb walls, and climb them better. I want to gain strength and resilience, and run all these races that I’ve signed up for. I want to dance, and move, and shake and enjoy what my body makes achievable for me every single day. I want to celebrate my strengths, and work on enjoying my body in more ways than I can possibly imagine. I can eat wonderful foods thanks to my body. I can conquer feats I never before thought would be possible for me like The London Marathon. I can have sex and enjoy all the sensations that brings. I can get myself around every day, and my legs do a fucking fantastic job of getting me around London on my bike. My arms do a great job at allowing me to do all the things I enjoy:  writing, reading, playing the ukulele really badly, climbing, eating, drinking, and in a hap hazardous way they contribute to my atrocious list of dance moves that I like to bust out when the party’s right. My eyes, they let me see all these beautiful sights that make me thankful to see everything I can: nature, skylines, sunrises and tropical storms. I can smell the warmth of the rain, and the freshness of cut grass and fresh coffee. The complexity of these joys cannot be captured in a photo or a mirror. Life is richer than that and so am I, and so are you.

My awkward smile may hint at the joys I have been experiencing, and my over excited crazy photos may capture a moment, but how my body looks, fuck that. It’s not important. I am healthy. I am capable, and I am taking advantage of those biological wonders that nature has blessed me with. So it no longer matters that I don’t fit into my skinny jeans, and it no longer matters that my arms aren’t spindly spaghetti features. My face is no longer structured by emaciation and malnourishment, and my waist is no longer so tiny it’s to die for, quite literally. My body is giving me life, and it is up to me to capture and cherish that fact.

So for as far as my body image goes, it’s not about image; it’s about sensations, feelings, experiences and love. Instead I will say that my body image is largely irrelevant but my body love is engaging with a pattern of exponential growth.

So there it is. I fucking love my body – and I bet yours is pretty darn fabulous too regardless of how it looks.

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Life’s Funny Lessons Found In My Pre-Marathon Journey: You. Fucking. Got. This!

Sunday 22nd April 2018 – the day I ran my first marathon. Wow. It still sounds pretty surreal. I hadn’t trained for it properly and consequently, the goal was to cross the finish line in one piece, uninjured, and within the 8 hour cut off time. Regardless of training, I think these are pretty decent goals for a first marathon.

I’ve lived in London for nearly 9 years now. I first got the “It would be amazing to do that one day” was in 2010. I was in town for a photoshoot for a site I was writing for at the time and the marathon happened to be on. We caught a glimpse of it by chance at the north embankment, which is in the final stretches of the marathon route. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to do it within the decade; at the time, I didn’t run. I toyed with it but never kept it up. I didn’t do any formal exercise anymore and when I did it wasn’t for good reason. I wanted to lose weight; exercise was another form of self punishment.

I only really delved into the possibility that I could do it, actually for real, once I started running with Backpackers where I’d hear stories of other people running marathons, and see them with their medals. They survived and often had a smile on their face at their achievement and you know what? They were normal people. They had normal lives, weren’t necassarily highlighted as a running ‘talent’ from a young age but they ran marathons. Not only did they run marathons, they enjoyed them. It was at that point I thought that maybe one day I could possibly do that too.

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As an adult in my twenties I also thought that for a long time my mental health would prevent me from doing anything like this for a long time to come. Then Mind Over Marathon on the BBC happened. I heard of the project via Backpackers (original founder being Chevy Rough) and I heard him talk at the Backpackers launch. I watched the documentary and saw other people with mental health difficulties managing to take the challenge on, and amazingly, it helped them with their mental health. My focus shifted from I can’t do that until I have mastered my mental health issues sometime, in the distant future or maybe never.

I stopped viewing my mental health as an obstacle to what I wanted to achieve and do. I learned that actually running could become another tool in the big box of tricks for managing and living with, not fighting, my menta health difficulties. It was shown to be, very blatantly, that actually you can live alongside your mental health. You can work with it. Sometimes it may dominate your life, every waking moment for periods of time even but I had a new fire in my belly to make sure that I was going to learn to live with my issues and not in constant headlock with them. In the wake of 2017’s race I sined up to run for a chairty place. Shit. Wow.

In the wake of this enthused decision I was questioned. Are you still hypomanic? That’s crazy, that’s what people do after years of running consistently! Well wow, it’s good you’re doing things and aiming high but you don’t have to run a marathon, that’s…that’s…what? Crazy? Maybe it is but sometimes in life we gotta be a bit “crazy”. Life isn’t all that sane. Life isn’t calculated or linear or predictable. So I chose to embrace this and signed up. By winter I was doubting myself. I was depressed. I was barely coping. I wasn’t ready to train for a marathon like everyone else was. I wasn’t going to manage to raise the money. I couldn’t handle a big race because of my start line anxiety, as proven by my opting out of The Big Half for the virtual option.

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Then the hype for 2018 began. The countdown began. I stopped fighting myself and coming down on myself. I listened to the language of the universe and the ultimate summary was to go for it. I had come to the conclusion that I needed to listen to my body, listen to the universe, and ultimately trust in my body that it could manage to complete 26.2 miles. Together, my body and my mind crossed the finish line of The London Marathon 2018. I finished in 6:42:44 without a cut off time panic dash.

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The take home message? If you have a desire to do something and you believe that your life circumstances, or your mental health, or anxiety is a reason to not do it then stop that shit. right. now! I know it’s not easy and I wont say “if i can, anyone can” because we are all different. Our journeys are all different and maybe you have no desire to run a marathon. Maybe you want to paint, or go to art school, or play tennis. Whatever it is, as cheesy as this is about to get, if you don’t try you 100% won’t do it. Maybe it will take a long time to get there, but as long as you’re trying to live with your illness or whatever  it is you face in your life, and you know deep down that you really are trying then you won’t remain stagnated where you are for eternity. I promise you that.

Finally, if you on an impulse whim want to do something – stop doubting and just go. Just do it even if other people think you’re crazy or weird or being unstable. Sometimes, these decisions will retrieve terrible consequences, and other times they will be a major lesson that shows you just how much more you are capable of than you or anyone else ever previously thought. You’re in charge of you. You find you, and you do you – even if it is sometimes clinically diagnosable, trust me, the majority of people are in some way and you may find some doors you didn’t even know existed in life for you – you never know unless you try.

You fucking got this!

Hey! London Marathon, I’m Coming For Ya!!

Earlier this week, which day precisely escapes me, I had a sudden change of heart. I tried to defer my London Marathon entry until 2019. I had it in my head until this week that I was definitely going to cheer and not run this year. What I do remember about this decision making process is that it was at some odd hour of the night and I woke up friends and family to inform them of my sudden change in life choices.

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The next day, I honestly have no idea what day these events occured on, I decided to start pushing on the fundraising. I also dug around in my e-mails and realised my place hadn’t been officialy deferred. This seemed to be somewhat of a message from the nuiverse guiding me towards realising my personal legend (more about this later). It is my part in realising my personal legend to heed the signs laid before me – and so with confidence that the universe is colluding to guide me on the right path I decided to grab me confirmation email with my number on it and head over to the ExCel centre to collect my race pack and bib.

It’s been somewhat of a hectic week since. The excitment since going to the expo hasn’t really left me. I went back to my crew last week, another guiding message from the universe, and have been really welcomed back into the crew. (Honestly, there’s no love like crew love!). Everything was pointing me towards getting to that start line and that’s where I’m at right now. I have my race pack, bought a few essentials (read: high SPF bodyglide!!!) and everything is working out nicely. So what do I hope for on Sunday?

I hope I see more messages in the language of the universe because since embarking on my personal legend and listening to the language of the universe I feel more powerful than ever. I hope to enjoy the day and that it becomes the second day of 2018 to make the Top 10 of the year. I hope I am aligned with my feelings and let myself cry when i need to, laugh when i want to and generally have a bloody brilliant day. I hope I don’t cry so much that I can’t control my snot emissions. I hope I don’t get heat stroke and over heat. I hope I find the balance of hydration. I hope I can walk to the pub across from my home for the free Sunday Lunch they’re offering up.

Of course there are fears roaming around my brain’s white matter but right now I firmly believe that naivity is my friend. Let’s keep it that way until I hit the docklands part of the route notorious for breakdowns and seriously questioning life choices.

To sponsor me either follow this link;

virginmoneygiving.com/Monandthemarathon

Or text MVLM69 followed by the amount in £ to 70070

Example “MVLM69 £5” to 70070 to give £5

Thanks so much to everyone supporting me on this venture.

Cancer Research UK Tough 10, Box Hill

I was looking for some trail races a while ago. I like running. I love natural environments so it feels like a natural progression for me to take my running from the city to the trails.

For me personally there’s only so much city running you can do and feel inspired. There’s also the niggles you have to take into account like traffic lights, pedestrians that are waking, cars, bin bags, lamp posts… it’s a concrete jungle that leaves me feeling lack lustre at times.

To me my relationship with running feels like I would like it to progress as a way to get in nature, a method by which to explore the world and an experience that makes me feel very alive. Sometimes pollution fumes and sirens don’t quite do that for me. So I looked for some trail races and found the Tough 10 series by CRUK.

They rate the difficulty of their races by the number of trainers, 1-3. This race took part on Box Hill And was rated three trainers tough. Box Hill is known by cyclists and was one of the steepest ascents in the 2012 Olympic cycling events. The steepness of the ascent is quite brutal.

On the first ascent we climbed the steps by the stepping-stones. 270 stairs but not equal stairs, these are slippy woodland stairs which tend to be much more of a step than your average stairwell. I walked up and felt every breath and tiny oxygen atom mattered. Once at the top there were some flatter stretches, some down hill and a few more uphill.

I really enjoyed the variation of the terrain. I loved the views even though I’ve been and seen them before – there’s nothing more rewarding for climbing something than taking a breather to look around and admire the views you earned from the climb. The ground was quite slippy and I didn’t lose my footing.

I rolled my ankle once and didn’t go over or injure myself thanks, I think, to the ankle wiggling exercises I do before a run. Running on the slope down hill felt amazing when it was a gentle gradient. I felt like I could relax and my legs just carried me along. I felt so free and alive just running through the woodland. My legs just carried me and I breathed easy.

I honestly feel like I’m starting to get the going for a run to relax and unwind thing. It’s not always super hard work anymore – and it now is very enjoyable. I’m definitely going to be hitting up some more trails – it wasn’t as hard for me mentally as I expected it to be.

This race was 10k and I feel like I’m finally comfortable with than distance so now it feels like the right time to started increasing my distance up to 15/20km. Bring it!

I went to Kobox yesterday and although that was a 50 minute class it felt much harder mentally to stay in the class and push through despite being less time – I think this was because we did exercises by the wall as well as punching the bag and the exercises were weighted so I struggled quite a lot with them. Whereas I’ve been running more consistently for a few months now so my body is quite used to t by comparison to weighted squats, trunk twists and mountain climbers.

I mean I already established last week that my core isn’t strong enough and that I’ve lost some of the core strength I did have – and this class confirmed my thoughts further.

So here’s to getting my mojo back. Here’s to trail running being bloody fabulous. Here’s to increasing the distance and getting stronger in order to do this.

Britain’s Ocean City, Run Plymouth 10K

As part of my running training for the Marathon I have signed up to a few races to make sure I stay on track. I work better with smaller and more frequent deadlines in all parts of my life. The London Marathon is quite a big goal – so in order to keep on track so that I don’t rock on up on Marathon Day completely unprepared I have set a few mile stones along the way.

Some races are milestones. For example some half marathons along the way to keep the distance in the forefront of my mind. Some are just for fun because once you have race fever signing up for races just becomes a bit irresistible, especially when you know people running.

My Dad was signed up for this one. I think he does most of the Plymouth Running Festivals, mainly the 10k and half marathon each year. He offered for me to do it with him, and what better way to have some father daughter bonding time than plodding through a 10k together? I love running races with other people – this is a form of socialising that I can get on board with.

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The day before I was worried the race was going to be a DNS or DNF for me. I felt really unwell. I was hot and cold, I was stumbling around a bit and losing my balance. I was feeling fuzzy headed – so much so it took me longer than usual to read the menu at the smoothie bar and understand what was in each one. It all seemed a bit like a blur to me. Stacey helped pick one for me. In fact, getting a smoothie was her idea and it worked. It transformed me – I can’t remember what was in it exactly; some spinach, some fruits, frozen yogurt and perhaps some other bits and bobs that escape my memory right now.

Before hand I was saying it would be a miracle if I got around the course without tripping over my feet because just walking around town on that Saturday I was tripping, falling and generally a bit of an uncoordinated mess. It wasn’t an ideal state to find myself in the day before race day.

I tried a few things, and they all seemed to add up to work: I had some re-hydration formula, I had a smoothie, I ate some carbs then at 9.30pm that night I crashed out for sleep. I think a combination of factors from the previous week led to that place – I had done a 2 hour cycle and not been able to refuel afterwards because I was scraping being on time for my lecture (I got lost, a lot. It should have been a 70 minute ride). I didn’t rehydrate with anything other than water and remained in a semi permanent state of feeling dehydrated no matter how much water I drank. I didn’t even have a Lucozade sport, which is often my go to. I kept making myself get up early and was refusing to go to sleep when I needed to because I wanted more hours from my days.

There’s a few lessons in there:
– if you’re feeling really tired, just go to sleep no matter how short changed you feel from your evening
– smoothies are a great way of getting in bunch of nutrients when used in moderation.
– always refuel after a lot of exertion with some carbs and protein and a little bit of some good fats.

Theoretically, I know all of this. Practically I wasn’t following my own advice or knowledge and chose to ignore my body begging for rest and salts. Lesson = use your knowledge of nutrition to help you and listen to your body Monica. It knows what it needs and you can’t out do your body’s needs with your mental desires to do otherwise.

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Race day I had my usual breakfast of porridge and banana. This is a staple pre-race breakfast for me. It always works and doesn’t come right through me. I stomach this meal well despite what gastric issues I may have. The race start pen was around the corner from where my Dad lives, which reduced the travel nerves and stress of missing the start wave. This was a luxury that I quite enjoyed on the day.

When we were in the pen we acknowledged a minute of silence for everyone who couldn’t be with us today. It was honoured well and I imagine that for a lot of people running for causes related to any losses they may have experienced this will have been a really important minute to clarify the why of their race that day. I think it was also important because Plymouth is a Naval town. Growing up I knew more families with ties to the MOD than not – and this will have been of importance to everyone for whom their partners, brothers, sisters may be currently deployed – or may have lost someone during a deployment.

In the starting pen I needed the obligatory third wee that happens every time I go for a race. I haven’t decided if this is nerves, because I drink too much due to dehydration anxieties, or if it’s because races start so early in the morning. I was getting nervous because I needed a wee. I thought there may be toilets on course, which is what I had to have in mind to stop getting anxious about it. I decided to run and see how I went – and secretly hoping that somehow I could perspire from my bladder.

Once I started running and got into the stride of it I was fine. So there is another lesson learned – sometimes a wee can wait and your body will prioritise running. I just don’t want a Paula Radcliffe moment because I don’t think I would get away with that seeing as I’m not Paula Radcliffe. There were no toilets on course but I made it anyway.

When looking at where we ought to start within the crowd because people who start farther forward with people much faster them are quite annoying, we kept an eye out for the pacers. I was aiming for a PB, which would mean getting anything less than 69 minutes. Ideally, I wanted to be between the 60 minute and 70 minute pacer. We set off and the crowds were quite thick until ~3 Km in.

The crowds began to thin out slightly on the first long and gentle gradient. I say gentle, in terms of running it is gentle but when you’re running it always feel like much more. The course was a very simple loop to 5km away and then back again. Along the embankment road the scenery was good as the misty fog hung over the water as the sun began to get brighter throughout the race. I didn’t take any pictures because I was very busy chasing that PB. I started the race with my Dad and near the 6 Km mark he told me to run on and chase it. I asked if he was sure because normally I’m all for sticking together and finishing together. He’s no novice to races and has smashed more 10 Ks and half marathons than me – so when he said he was sure I agreed to run on.

We had set out quite fast chasing the time in the first half of the race – this meant that the second half of the race was much more tiresome and it became harder to maintain pace and push on. between 8 and 9 Km the 70 minute pacer caught up with me as I had slowed down quite a lot, so I kept my eye on her. At times I was watching her flag bob up and down just ahead of me, like when your tour guide on holidays abroad has a colourful umbrella they stick in the air for you to follow as your guide, her flag was my guide and I had to keep up.

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I made it. I managed 1:10:50 – it’s within the minute of 10 so I’m going to count it. I’m not a pro so every millisecond isn’t too important to me. Even though I achieved my goal time I decided to maintain my ‘time is largely irrelevant’ philosophy on running. I found it quite stressful chasing that time and I had to really push myself to achieve it. Yeah I felt proud but no, I won’t do it again on a regular basis. I was pleased with myself but adding such an unnecessary stress onto it was as it says on the tin, stressful. Instead I’m going to focus again more on how my body feels when I do my running.

Was it enjoyable? If not, why not? Are there any lessons to be learned? Do I have niggles that need stretching out in stretch class or yoga or even a sports massage? As long as I’m improving over time as I have done from where I was to where I am, and from where I am to a new place in the future that is what matters. I think I’m going to maintain the philosophy of trying to be a better version of myself for me, of trying to improve on what I am whilst appreciating what and where I currently am, and on enjoying progress in ways that may be difficult to measure – but you know what? I don’t need to measure everything in my life. This is a difficult life lesson for me but micro-managing and quantifying everything in my life to justify, understand and realise where I’m at isn’t always necessary.

img_1240So lessons learned: no chasing times on a frequent basis, smoothies are great for nutrients if you’re feeling all over, plan for your wee’s right up to the race pen, listen to your body about sleep and rest, refuel after 30+ minutes of exercise, and stay hydrated all the time even if that means chugging more rehydration salts than you’d like because lets face it, they taste iffy, then do it. That’s a lot of learning from one day.

It was also a lot of happiness in one day. S came out to support us, I ran with my Dad which I have never done before, and we had a small family gathering in Costa after the race. It was a bloody good Sunday – and that’s not even mentioning the afternoons activities.

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How Important is Nutrition for Running Anyway?

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If I said that when training for a marathon, or anything in any sport, that nutrition was an imperative part of the programme, I think there would be a resounding, ‘duh!’. I even say it to myself in my head, yet over these past few weeks I have learned that nutrition during training has even more of an impact on training and ability to complete training runs. It turns out that diet is as important as the running itself.

I am starting to realise that training for a marathon is about many more things than I originally thought: often it is my mind I have to work on more than I do my legs; my nutrition is a 24 hour a day, 7 days a week project; and planning when I will realistically do my runs via planning is proving to be quite the steep learning curve too. These are all things that are proving to be bigger factors than whether my legs can physically carry me for 26.2 miles in one go.

The answer to that is yes, my legs could definitely carry my that far if they had to – in fact, I think they could carry me very much farther if they had to. The trick is, planning the training when I’m not too tired, or too pressed for time; fuelling my body with quality nutrition on the days when I’m not even on rest days; keeping my muscles stretched and rolled out to avoid tightness and the risk of injury; convincing myself that even though TV and chocolate feels more appealing when I’ve come on my period and my bones ache that I’ll probably feel less cramps and aches after a run. This running a marathon malarkey is turning out to be very little to do with my legs and a lot to do with a lot of other things that didn’t even cross my mind when I signed up.

Having a strong nutrition game feels like a very obvious component of this journey. However, I didn’t pay enough attention to it a few weeks ago. I didn’t budget accordingly in order to allow me to eat well. This left me eating chocolate and biscuits because they’re cheap. I missed meals because I hadn’t saved enough money aside to do so. The result was that I missed some training runs because I felt drained, and it wasn’t a mental ‘I can’t be bothered’. It was a ‘my nutrition has been terrible and my body hates me for it, and therefore won’t comply with running 10K’ situation.

Then there are the days when eating pastries, cakes and chocolate in front of the TV on an off evening. I didn’t even consider that what I eat the night before will affect me for the next 24-36 hours as what I have consumed has an effect for far longer than the time it takes for me to eat it, McVities and Cadbury have a lot to answer for.

Don’t feel sorry for me that I couldn’t eat well for a few days. I had done it to myself. I hadn’t put enough importance on the longer term when I bought a few coffees too many, and an extra piece of cake for £3.50 here and there. It doesn’t seem like much because coffee and cake is very little for your money in London and added up, well, I could have eaten well for a few days on 2 coffee shop visits alone.

It comes down to priority, budgeting, and really enabling my body to function at its optimum ability. Having given this some thought, by pushing my body to its max and potentially breaking myself by running 26.2 miles I have to treat it like a temple and feed it well. If I don’t, my body will just not run efficiently or as well as it could do – and I will feel the consequences. This doesn’t mean no cake, this means proper nutritional intake before cake because damn, I am not going through this journey without some tea and cake along the way – I am British after all.

Hello Park Run!

I recently started going to Park Run. I have been officially twice and unofficially three times (bar code issues). I have since ordered the keyring printed codes from the website, so now I have 4 or so all made to last – which hopefully in a small way signifies the journey I have embarked upon with park run, and running in general. I am here for the long haul, and the experiences along the way. This is no summertime fling.

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Dear running, I am here for the journey. I’ll even send you snail mail and catch you with my charm because baby, we’re in for a ride of a lifetime.

Flirting aside, this year I spent 5 months building confidence and consistency in order to embark on the 9 month journey ahead of me that leads me to the London Marathon start line. It was 5 months of small distance targets to overcome the anxiety I had about running, fainting, getting lost, collapsing, anything you could imagine that is quite irrational to believe, I would believe it would happen to me. Many times this exact anxiety has kept me housebound on race day and bed bound on a planned run day.

For me, this is the first major hurdle and mile stone to crack. 5 months later, and I feel like I’m moving on to the next chapter in my journey. I no longer get as anxious, and often I can overcome the anxiety and just go out and run anyway – and every time so far I have been absolutely fine. This first hurdle make the process of building up to running 5km regularly.

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By focusing on form and starting a conditioning routine I hope to avoid the overtraining injuries that have plagued me before in the knee, or the shin splints that had me hobbling after a 2km jog. It has taken me 2 bouts of over-training injuries for me to respect my body for what it can and can’t do as well as realising my limits. It also taught me that training is a multifaceted journey not to be dominated by junk miles.

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I am currently in Devon visiting family, so the Park Run surroundings were pretty tranquil, the air felt extremely fresh from the woodland and trees and the scenery was serene. I love the rivers and woodland of Devon, there’s no such thing as junk miles with surroundings such as this.

So here’s to Park Run. Here’s to the long journey ahead. Here’s to realising, respecting and learning when to push our limits and when to chill.

Peace, Love and DOMS,
Mon