Run #30 Reflection: 2 little ducks 🦆🦆


It was as if the stars and planets aligned, the various Gods of this world were all smiling down on me, or I’d simply got out of the right side of bed (which, ironically, is the only side of the bed I can get out of in my new flat for lack of space in the bedroom). I can’t really describe to you what this run felt like other than, well, glorious. And I can’t believe I’m using that word to describe a run! But it really was. The night before I’d had a decent dinner (salmon, broccoli and sweet potato), had a decent night’s sleep, got up feeling relatively refreshed and had a good breakfast (my usual porridge, seeds, almonds, cinnamon and honey) as well as a bagel and coffee. A friend of a friend who’s run the London marathon before suggested I had a plan for my race day run, something I hadn’t yet considered. And so in preparation for the day itself, I thought it was worth putting my plan in to action to see how well it played out before I did it for real…

So, as above for preparation. I set off late (I’m always late – better change that for April 23rd!) but it was only by an hour; I was trying to mimic what it *might* be like on marathon day so I felt adequately prepared. So I set off in my shorts, vest, running belt (I look like Lara Croft of Runners World, just not as hot or fit) and my new runners (I’m in love with them, sorry old Asics). The sun was shining proudly against a clear blue spring sky. It happened to be the weekend that there was a mini-kind-of-heat-wave in England. Not ideal although I guess helpful just in case the end of April throws up some lovely weather for everyone but runners (well, I don’t like running in the heat, anyway). At least there was a bit of a cool breeze. But unlike my last long run – the failed – 20 mile attempt – today, I was in the zone.

In. The. Zone.

My music was pumping (thanks to a friend for putting together a unique Spotify playlist for me – old school hip hop with some power ballads!). I was focussed. I just kept on visualising the London marathon. My mind wasn’t wondering, my legs weren’t aching and I didn’t feel sick. The only thing that was a slight discomfort around mile 15 was the fact that I needed a wee, and then the added agony of trying to decide whether or not to have a pee in the bushes (I decided no – I just wanted to keep on running). I was doing 3 loops of a route I’ve come to really enjoy in Swindon, my new home. Running out towards Coate Water Park – a favourite childhood place and actually, still one of my favourite places as an adult – felt so good. A mix of hills and flat running and then, when you get to the park itself, opportunities to shelter from the sun in the shade of the woodlands and the chance to enjoy the view of the lake – not to mention the challenge of darting out of the way of children on scooters at the play area! I’m sure some people in the park had a serious case of déjà vu throughout the afternoon. But it was glorious. Absolutely glorious. It just didn’t feel like that much of a challenge. How can that be, when Monday was so tumultuous and trying?

In fact, this was such a glorious run that not only did I meet my 20 mile target, but I went for another 2 miles. TWO MILES! That was like another half an hour (my pace had slowed by then!). I was chuffed. So bloody chuffed. Not only had I reached my target, but I’d surpassed it. It was so important for me to try to reach 20 miles before the marathon; mentally, I needed to know that physically (and mentally) I can do the bulk of it. I should have started tapering at this point, doing a 15 mile run today but I just simply had to do at least 20 miles. And I did, and then some. 22 miles. I can’t quite believe it. And yet, I can. I now believe in myself. And that is the best feeling of all of this.

So come on April 23rd and the additional 4.2 miles – I’m coming for you.

Run #30 Rating & Reflection

Achievement = 5

Enjoyment = 5


Run #12 Reflection aka Day 4 of The Cotswold Way

3.17m walked, and probably cried the equivalent distance in tears.  This was a tough day.

The pain in my feet was bearable but not the pain in my head. I had a panic attack in the middle of some really pretty woodlands and then I broke down in tears. I realised it was all to do with the break-up I’d been trying to deal with rather than my depression but I also realise that these things are interrelated. So I took the decision to walk to the nearest village, pop in to a pub to warm up by a fire, have a cider and then check in to the B&B as soon as I could to relax, recuperate and re-centre. The whole point of this walk was to give me space, peace and time to think which it really did. It was also supposed to be part of a healing process. While a challenge is good (God knows I love a good challenge), knowing my limits in any given time is good, too. It was on this day that I realised I’d reached my pain threshold physically, mentally and emotionally. And the fact I realised that is a MASSIVE improvement on where I’ve been with managing my emotions and feelings in the past few years. Every cloud…

While updating my journey on Instagram, I shared the above photo of me crying after my panic attack. I felt so alone, so scared, so lost. But I wanted to share that feeling because I know I’m not the only to have felt that way. And I wanted to show that I’m not ashamed of feeling like that, either. I’m not ashamed of my tears. I’m not ashamed of my heart breaking. I’m not ashamed of pushing myself to the edge and feeling like that’s about as much as I can take. I’m not ashamed of having anxiety and depression. I’m not ashamed of being open about my true feelings. And I’m simply not ashamed of being me, like I may have been in the past.

I am not ashamed.

Run #12 Rating & Reflection

Achievement = 2

I just could not go on today. I didn’t give up, but I barely persevered, either.

Enjoyment = 0.5

Today was one of the lowest points I’d had for a while. My entire body and soul ached. How I longed for it all just to stop.


Run #11 Reflection aka Day 3 of The Cotswold Way


I very VERY nearly took this day as a rest day – I even checked the bus times from Painswick to Dursley so I could just get to my B&B and chill. But something in my head just said ‘give it a go, see what happens then make the decision’. My blisters and right ankle were painful and uncomfortable, but bearable – just. I decided to take a slightly different route to help ease the pain – no fields today but a mix of the Cotswold Way, A roads, B roads, a common and some woodlands. With Jack Garratt’s phenomenal debut album buzzing in my ears, I plodded on. The weather was changeable, so too was my mood. I stopped off at a Sainsbury’s cafe to warm up and fuel up. Unfortunately my phone had conked out again and so for the latter half of the day it was just me and my thoughts. As the day got on, my feet got worse. The blisters were half the size of my palms and I had three of them – one on each heel and one on the inside of the ball of my right foot. I was wearing my trusty walking boots and proper walking socks so I’m not sure how they happened, but happen they did. When I finally saw the bright lights (yes, it got dark again) of Dursley, I slumped off to a pub to warm up and treat myself to a well-deserved G&T. And again, I got help from a 4 wheeled friend to get me over to Stinchcombe, my stop for the night. I was just so exhausted, in so much pain and I frankly, just fed up by the end of the day. I had had enough. At least getting sandwiched between my backpack and a gate – twice – had brought a smile to my face that day!


Run #11 Rating & Reflection

Achievement = 3

Well, full marks for me for getting on with things initially. But I have to knock down the score for getting a taxi again. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself – something I’m trying to work on!

Enjoyment = 3

The pain certainly tarnished the day. And the weather turning didn’t help. Some moments were really enjoyable but a lot of the day felt like a slog. I would’ve scored it a 2 but a visit from a good friend at my B&B in Stinchcombe massively lifted my mood… thanks Heather 🙂 x



Run #10 Reflection aka Day 2 of The Cotswold Way

Screenshot_20170421-091415Not as many animals today nor as many people. A little bit lonely at times but still peaceful. There was another near-spectacular fall as this time I decided to imitate Bambi on ice! Fortunately I just about kept my balance. With my phone having enough battery, I finished an audio book along the walk (“Grit: The Power of Passion and Persistence” by Angela Duckworth – it’s really interesting!). I also did A LOT of map reading as I decided to take a mix of different routes since many of the locations on the route were ones I’ve visited numerous times back when I lived in Gloucestershire. It was lovely having the sun and lovely to get to my B&B in sunlight. Although I did have help from a 4-wheeled friend… For about an hour I was deliberating over whether to carry on today or not, as I was supposed to have walked twice today’s distance.Screenshot_20170421-091458 But it got to the point where I was slowing down so much from painful ankles that I knew I’d end up walking in the dark again – something I really didn’t want to do. So I took the decision to cut the walk short, get to my B&B to rest up and start afresh tomorrow. Part of me feels like I’ve let myself down but then I’m trying to see the bigger picture and why I’m doing this walk. It’s not to do with racing the clock or walking the furthest for the sake of it. It’s about taking time to be in the present, focus on me for a bit and look after my health – plus to enjoy the beautiful countryside. So when I think of things like that, actually I don’t feel like I’ve let myself down after all.


Run #10 Rating & Reflection

Achievement = 2

While I can put it all in to context and try to be kinder to myself and not beat myself up, I can’t move away from the fact that I didn’t walk as far as planned and also got a lift – one thing I really didn’t want to have to do.

Enjoyment = 3

Was much quieter on today’s walk although I appreciated the time to listen to an interesting book and just be.


Run #9 Reflection aka Day 1 of The Cotswold Way: 100 miles in 5 days (well, that was the plan!)…

“Where you going to love?”, said the taxi driver as I wriggled across the back of his car with my heaving rucksack. “Chipping Campden please. I need to go to the start of the Cotswold Way”, I reply as my cold breath fills the warm, cosy car with condensation.

The quintessential English countryside looked glorious as we rolled on by in the sunshine, talking about the work I do in BBC local radio. That would be the last time I would talk – even think – about work for the next few days. That part is true. But to say that the absence of thinking about work was bliss, as I expected, would not be true. Little did I know that the rest of the walk would be more blister-full than blissful, literally and figuratively speaking.

As mentioned in a previous blog, I’ve recently gone through a break up. I’ve been here before, just like many millions of others have. My situation isn’t unique nor is it special. But it’s my situation. It’s my experience. And I’ve been before. Many times, actually. But the last time I was here, the dark, grey days turned in to a storm full of raging gales strong enough to knock me over and relentless rain, turning everything miserable; my last breakup was the proverbial straw which essentially triggered 3 long years of living with depression.

So I spotted the warning signs. I mean, at least this time I could prepare for what might come and attempt to circumnavigate the inevitable rocky patch. And this was one of the ways I decided to do that. Fresh air. Alone time. Exercise. The countryside. And of course, a challenge. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. I knew some parts wouldn’t be all that enjoyable. I knew I’d cry, I knew I’d hurt – inside and out – but I also knew that this is what I needed to do. I needed to start the healing process and I needed to prevent any further damage. So off I set: 100 miles in 5 days. “Let’s do this”, I thought…


The first day was energising, liberating, tiring, painful, and, as the sun went down and I realised I was still hours from my B&B in the pitch black dark but for my little head torch, bloody terrifying. Energising because it felt so good to feel the crisp wind fill my lungs and the result of my body producing and pumping around happy hormones. Liberating because my phone had died and so it was just me, the sights, sounds and smells of the countryside. Tiring because I walked 20.35 miles miles with 2o kilograms on my back, which wasn’t helped by me forgetting just how hilly Gloucestershire is. Painful because on day one I gained 3 little friends in the form of expanding skin filled with liquid on the inner side of each foot – typical. And bloody terrifying because my over imaginative mind convinced the part of me that’s a scaredy-cat that I was being followed through the woods every time I head owls – ok, more likely pigeons – sound and flutter away as I walked by (sorry to the people whose garden I trespassed through with all of 5 metres – I just had to get out of the woods and on to the road and when I saw my chance I took it… I promise I was careful and just nipped around the edge once I jumped the barbed wire fence – not an easy thing to do when carrying a third of your body weight on your back!).

What I noticed the most from the first day’s walking was just how often I would stop and be in the moment. I know very little about plants and wildlife but what I did come across I’d stop, look, study and take in what was in front of me in that very instance. I’d notice the tiny leaves on flowers, the eyelashes on a horse that followed me through a field or the shapes of the clouds in the sky as they merged in to the mist in the distance, making the landscape looking something more reminiscent of Lord of the Rings than Gloucestershire. In fact, I was so in the moment throughout the day that I really did take in everything, and for once I managed to remember it all, too:

11 villages. 8.5 hours of walking. 3 blisters. 2 pheasants. 1 pony. 1 breed of cow I’d never seen before (turns out it was Belted Galloway). 1 squirrel. 1 man and his dog (that got lost and I helped to find… the dog by the way, not the man!). 1 dead phone. 1 castle-esque tower. 1 near spectacular fall (I was trying to skid down some mud!). 1 incredibly stunning sunset that distracted me, resulting in 1 missed turn. Numerous ‘diversions’ in the dark, resulting in 1 slightly scared and paranoid walker (I watch too many psycho-thrillers). 1 lost hat. 1 found hat. Tonnes of clumpy, sticky mud. Tonnes of Deep Heat. Too many hills. Too many scary looking sheep. And 1 lovely B&B (once I could get in!).

So with day 1 under my layers of warm clothing and waterproof jackets done, I turned to think about day 2 as my head hit the pillow of my luxurious bed. The sun had been shining all day and, despite the inevitable ups and downs, the sun was still shining inside of me.


Run #9 Rating & Reflection

Achievement = 5

I survived!

Enjoyment = 3

A mixed bag of emotions for the day.


Running on empty, stopping to refuel

1 film (Ab Fab – I love Jennifer Saunders and Joanna Lumley), 2 (mini) bottles of red wine, the usual (rather plain) assortments found with an in-flight meal all done and dusted yet I still have 6 hours to go. I’m typing this from 30F, my aisle seat on a flight crossing the Atlantic Ocean as I make my way south-west to a part of the world I’ve never been before: the Caribbean.

Idyllic. Paradisiacal. Heavenly.

That’s how I’ve always imagined the Caribbean to be and if I were to ever visit one of the many islands making up the archipelago, I’d be doing it in style. Why? Well, because I never imagined I’d be able to afford to go the Caribbean. Growing up it was always the destination for the rich and famous; not the likes of a small-town girl from England who considered her holidays at Eurocamp in France to be a luxury growing up. No. If I were to ever go to the Caribbean, it would be when I’ve ‘made it’.

Well, I can tell you something. I haven’t ‘made it’. But here I am on my way to much warmer climates (not that that’s hard when living in the UK) in a situation I never thought I’d find myself in. How? Why? It all began with the warning signs…

You may have read this post from a few weeks ago. If you haven’t, I’ll save you the awkwardness and anguish as it’s not a happy read; essentially I felt like I was falling apart, for a number of reasons to do with my recovery from depression as well as dealing with the aftermath of a breakup. After writing that post, things didn’t really get any better. At the same time, though, they didn’t get any worse. They just, well, stayed. I felt stuck. It was as if each day I was trying to wade through treacle and yet I was getting no where; I was waking up and going to sleep in exactly the same spot. In a sense that was ok. I actually felt relatively stable. But at the same time, I could see that this wasn’t a long term viable situation to be in. If I stayed too long in this spot, I’d sink.

So, to get unstuck and to get some sort of forward momentum going. In order to do this, I had to expend energy. Energy. That elusive property that we know exists, but often feels absent from our lives for a multitude of reasons. I know I have the energy to do things, as me doing things is evident of that, but I can’t remember the last time I actually felt like I had the energy to, well, do anything – even sleep. So any little energy that might exist in some sort of form in my life, I knew, wasn’t enough t0 power me to fight the sticky, gloopy mess I was stuck in. I needed help. I would need wrenching out of the treacle, hosing down from its grips, and being allowed a little time to take stock, re-build and get going again, as that sticky, gloopy mess won’t be gone forever, I know.

After some serious thinking time, self-reflection and a lot of honest chats with friends, family and colleagues I came to the decision that I needed a chunk of time off work. Now, for those of you who don’t know me, while I love holidays and taking breaks, I hate taking time off work otherwise. I do my dream job and I love it. But with recent events, working has become hard. Very hard. We all have our off days but I started to have more off days than on. I was working on my own original story idea, being left to my own devices to set up things for radio, TV and social media, taking the lead on editorial and creative decisions; I should’ve been in my element but, instead, I felt like all the elements were drowning me, burying me, burning me, leading me in to a whirlwind of a storm where there was no escape. I’ve been in the eye of that storm before. I don’t want to go there again.

At first, part of me felt like I was being a wimp and running away from things. Other people are going through a shite time too and seem to be handling their own shit, so why can’t I? Well, I came to realise that I’m not other people, I don’t really know the extent to what others are going through, and the only thing I can really do is focus on me. So, here I am, on a plane to the Caribbean to spend some time with one of my best friends, Ciara aka Cheera / Cipidi / Ci, who’s working and living over here for a wee while (she’s Northern Irish – had to put the ‘wee’ in there for effect!).


UPDATE: It’s now day 3 of my trip to St. Lucia. It’s 11am and I’m typing this as I’m sat in my forest green bikini that perfectly camouflages with the scene in front of me (which is ironic as I’ve learned camouflage is illegal here in St Lucia!!). I’m on the balcony of Ciara’s house. Directly in front of me is a bay leaf tree, a mango tree and an orange tree. Further ahead is a large, rocky, mountainous outcrop covered in green vegetation that goes on to meet the Caribbean Sea. To my right down the steep hill littered with an assortment of colourful houses is the Rodney Bay marina; white masts of yachts poke up out in the distance as if they were pins pricking up from a blue, silky pin cushion. Some sort of saw or sander is working away a few houses below this one and the hum of traffic can be heard in the distance, along with the occasional plane jetting overhead. I’ve taken a break from the local ‘Soca’ music to enjoy some chilled neo-soul; a weird juxtaposition of sounds surround me but I feel truly mellow.


So back to the point of this post. I’ve been running on empty and I worked out I needed to refuel. Some might call me a bit of an idealist / hedonist / day-dreamer or simply a fool who gets carried away with the fairies from time to time. All would be correct to a degree but I do often manage to mould my free-flowing ideas into something a little more realistic and concrete. At first, I thought about buggering off to somewhere like Thailand and doing a 4 week yoga/detox retreat kind of thing. I knew I didn’t want to spend my time off just sitting around at home. While I needed some time to recuperate, this was not the way to go about it. But neither was sodding off to be on my own for so long and spending a fair whack in the process. Ok, plan B. I’m good at coming up with plan Bs. I made a list. I’m good at making these, too. One list checked off the reasons why I wanted to take time off with what I hoped to achieve. Another list checked off the things that are truly good for my soul, carefully balancing the fun with the healthy, purposeful things (something I’ve tried to practice since reading Paul Dolan’s ‘Happiness by Design’ – an interesting perspective / approach to achieving happiness, one that I don’t entirely agree with but useful and insightful nonetheless). This is what I came up with:

And so this is my plan B:

WEEK 1: 

– Weekend with friend to take the sting out of having to take on the necessary but unpleasant task of picking up some things from my flat with my ex

– A night spent with my family playing cards (we love a games night) and celebrating my dad’s 60th birthday

– Long run for marathon training

– 5 days walking the Cotswold Way in Gloucestershire, staying at 4 B&B’s on route from Chipping Camden to Bath – this would involve time to listen to music, podcasts, audiobooks and simply be in the beautiful countryside as well as the warm and cosy accommodation

– A night spent with my twin (not really my twin – we’re both called Rhiannon and have been best friends for 24 years – but we might as well be twins)

– Time spent updating my blog

– Getting my nails done – hands and feet as a treat for doing the Cotswold Way and a pre-holiday prep to get me in the mood (plus, I STILL have the terrible habit of biting my nails and the skin around them which I don’t do when I have my nails done so in some ways, a healthy preventative measure and not simply a frivolous and vain activity 😉)

WEEK 2 & 3:

– Go to St Lucia to stay with one of my best friends who I know from uni (we were both Cardiff University Snakecharmers, the uni’s competitive and national winning cheerleader team… Go Venom Big Pop!)

– Get some (but not too much!) much- needed vitamin D

– Eat fresh, local produce including my favourite fruit, pineapple

– Go for runs around the Caribbean island to continue my marathon training

– Not set an alarm clock for 10 days, enjoy the fresh sea air and get some good sleep and rest

– Swim in the warm waters of a sea I’ve yet to have experienced before

– Go to Soca and Salsa nights and dance the night away

– Yoga on the beach

– Drink some rum

– Meet Ciara’s Lucian friends, learn about another culture and experience another way of life

– Explore the island with Ciara and one of her good friends who’s also coming to visit

– Spend time reading and writing

– On return from St Lucia, celebrate me turning another year older with friends I’ve spent the last 20 or so years making crazy memories with

– Spend a day hungover after drinking too much prosecco no doubt, with that being the last time I drink until I complete the London Marathon


– Go for a walk with my dad

– Go back to therapy

– Get my hair cut

– Go to a spa

– Visit both my nans

– Practice video editing on Final Cut Pro (I may have invested in myself with a certain new lap top…)

– Run some more

– Blog some more

– Get prepared for going back to work

Of course, plans are likely to change, and in fact I’ll be writing a separate post about week 1 since that’s been and gone and, as you’ve guessed, didn’t quite go to plan…

So as I sit in the shade accompanied by a warm breeze, typing away, listening to some of my favourite music, being surrounded by green lushness and a place I’ve only just started to explore, I know I’ve made the right decision. And I don’t just know it, I feel it. In my aching muscles that have been painful for months and months from stress; in my tight chest that’s been hard to control at times with threats of panic attacks; in my mind that’s been full of emotions that were becoming tricky to handle; in my aurora which was becoming subdued and dull. As the clouds lift and the mist evaporates from the horizon, I can see the next Caribbean island of Martinique which reflects exactly how I feel right now: things are becoming clearer but some things are still far off in the distance. But that’s ok, as I already feel as if I have more direction and with a little more time, I’ll have the energy to go in the right direction, too. No longer will I be running on empty; I’ll be re-fuelled, ready to face the sticky times if/when they come again.