I'll Be Missing You

This was meant to be a blog explaining what I had decided to support with my participation in The Outlaw, but it's ended up being about my Nan. Halfway through I wondered if I should just erase it, because who would really want to read it, but I carried on, partly because it does explain why I've decided to raise money for that cause, and partly because this is also my personal log of this journey, and I have found this quite cathartic to write. So if you get bored, tough!! : p

As Mothers day approaches, I am more than aware that I won't have anyone to take out for lunch, buy flowers for, or say thank you to. Just writing that my eyes are blurry with tears. As I've mentioned before, last year I lost my wonderful Nan to cancer. Families aren't black and white, there are variations, complications, and differences to the 'norm'. When talking about this I have often found myself saying 'I lost a parent', because the general consensus when I say 'Nan' appears to be, 'oh, that's sad, but you still have your Mum don't you'. I got fed up of explaining that no, actually I don't. My Nan was my Mother, she bought me up, and made me who I am today. Biology doesn't come into it.

Anyway, when she was diagnosed the doctors had only seen very few cases of the cancer she had, which was carcinoid. It was almost unheard of, and she was actually given a consultant in America to liaise with her doctors here around treatment options.  Not that there were many. Initial diagnosis gave her 0-5 years to live. She lived for 12. I truly believe this was her state of mind and attitude.

For many people it would have been easy to give up, after all, being told you have a terminal condition, what's the point of carrying on?  Just sit and wither away! But no. She was extremely spirited, and determined to keep her independence. She managed it for a few more years, but as the cancer grew completely over her lung breathing became too difficult, and she became nervous about leaving the house alone, in case she had a 'funny turn'. I also felt the same, after being called to fetch her from town when she couldn't manage to get home. She had tried to walk up a hill and got so breathless she couldn't go any further. At the time I didn't drive, I was on my way to getting a motorbike, but that was the end of that idea. I switched to car lessons, so that I could take her wherever she wanted to go. (I did try and convince her that she'd love being on the back of a GSXR, wind in her hair, but she just raised her eyebrows)

That didn't stop her though. Arriving one day to take her shopping I almost fainted when I saw her up a ladder cleaning windows!! She refused to get down until she had finished, telling me  ''Instead of fussing make yourself useful and out the kettle on''.

As the disease progressed any kind of physical exertion became difficult. This was awful, she had always been a very active person, attending 'swing into shape' with her friends every week, which always made me laugh, and walking everywhere.

A wheelchair arrived eventually. She eyed it with suspicion. I eventually got her to go in it, being upbeat and positive, saying we could go for walks in the park etc, without her getting tired. Actually she was more worried I'D get tired pushing her!
I knew for a woman of her pride it was hard to get in that chair. Hard to accept help. Some days I'd get it out and she would insist on walking telling me, ''You aren't putting me in that thing, I'm not dead yet''.

She would make sure she went out every day, even just to the bottom of the garden, saying if you don't move your body seizes up. She faced the symptoms as they worsened, fought and fought, refusing to be beaten. One episode sticks clearly in my mind. We had been to morrisons, and halfway round she felt ill. She had refused to bring her own chair, so I ran to get one of theirs near the entrance, worried she'd faint. She was sick into a bowl, and couldn't hold her head up. After 30 minutes I took her home, and insisted on calling an ambulance. They came to check her over, and advised she go to hospital. She looked at me with the saddest, most vulnerable expression and said, ''Will you come with me?'' That was her asking for my help. She never did that. Ever. At that moment I felt my heart break. I just answered with, ''Of course I will!'' I was careful never to show her how stressful it all was, because I think at times she felt guilty that she relied on me. Truth is, I was happy to do it. I was happy to do whatever I needed to. I wanted to.

March came, and her check up. We found then (we being the consultant, me and my grandad) that the cancer was now into her throat and neck, the tumour was huge, and protruding. Nan had noticed it in November, and had hidden it by wearing a neck scarf. When I asked why she said she knew it had spread but hadn't wanted to worry me. The 2nd lot of Chemo had just finished, and we were told it hadn't worked. The doctors and her consultant in London were talking about a new type of radiotherapy, and would contact us in due course. She said as we got home that she knew that was it, and she accepted it.

The weeks passed and she began sleeping much more. Her appetite waned. I kept encouraging her to eat, but it was too much effort. I found a vice though- Mcdonalds chicken nugget meals. She loved them. So from then on I'd say ''do you want some soup?''
''no thanks''
''Sandwich?''
''no''
''What about Mcdonalds?''
*silence*
''ermmm.. are you going to have one then? I don't want you going all that way just for me''

Result. After that I'd usually just drive there first, and take it to her. She'd tell me off, try to give me the money for it, but all I cared about was that she was eating.

My Nan always said that when she went, she'd want to go quickly, and that she'd hate to 'linger'. Her worst nightmare was that she would end up ''being a burden'', unable to function properly, incontinent and unable to care for herself. She was an extremely dignified woman, and was scared of losing that dignity.

She died on 16th June 2011, at home, in her own bed. As she wanted. I take great comfort in that, although  obviously I wish with all my heart and soul that I had been there. I often used to stay over, and I still ask myself, why did I go home that night? why didn't I stay? I asked myself a million times, why didn't I give her a kiss, tell her I loved her before I went? Obviously I know the answers. We are human, and I didn't do that because that isn't what we did. We never had done really. Nan wasn't a huggy kind of person. But with death comes so many whys and whats. And although I questioned myself, I know that a hug wouldn't have shown her I loved her any more than she already knew.

My grandad found her. I got the call at 11.15am. I can still remember the moment exactly. I saw 'Grandad mobile' flash up, and I almost ignored it. In my heart, I knew. Then I answered.  Silence, then a deep breath and-
''It's me, I've got some bad news...''

That expression, time slows down.. it really does. Each second becomes an hour. Everything stops.

Sometimes I forget she is dead.. I have seen something, heard something, and get excited to tell her about it. I get excited to go and see her and share what  I've been doing. Then I remember that she isn't here. And never will be. But for those moments.. I  think she is. And I long to keep those moments, where I had forgotten, just for a minute, that part of me has gone. I have those moments, and I feel whole again.
When I remember, the world returns to being that little bit empty.

Through the undulating process of grief, I have thought of many things I could do to honour Nans memory. Firstly I have finally decided that through the Outlaw, I'd like to raise money for the Nottingham City Hospital chemo department. Many hours were spent sitting in there, and as my Nans chemo was made and sent from London, (where her specialists were) she appreciated being able to have it here, rather than travelling all that way, as they initially wanted her to. I want to support a local cause, and I want to do something she would approve of. Not that she would approve of Outlaw. Even when I would come in after a 30 minute run she'd be worried I was ''over doing it'', so heaven knows what she'd make of an iron distance and the training involved!

So I am asking for your support and sponsorship, and give my heartfelt thanks for you taking the time to read this.

And to my Nan...

Every step I take,
Every move I make,
Every single day,
Every time I pray,
I'll be missing you.

(This was played at the funeral, and I also had it engraved on the headstone- I had to laugh, what a super cool Granny having Puff Daddy!!)

I Want To Change The World!!

I attended a conference for 2012/13 business plan outlines for mental health in the NHS today, and ended up challenging one of the commissioners. In a room full of people and with a microphone, I insisted he should explain why cutting a service that has been proven to work is logical and sensible. He couldn't really answer.

Usually I am a very calm and laid back person, but with certain things I am extremely passionate. Injustice, deceit and ignorance are things guaranteed to get me going. Our government makes completely irrational decisions at times. I am proud of the NHS, and I was fiercely proud to work in such a great organisation, but recently it has been getting worse and worse, and I fear it will continue to go downhill unless people stand up. I spent the whole day putting my views across, explaining pros and discussing cons, but it doesn't change the fact that the money needed just doesn't exist anymore. It was completely emotionally draining. When I got home I felt quite despondent, upset. I felt we are all fighting a losing battle, and it would be better just to accept the inevitable. I am sensitive, and I do take things on, especially when people aren't being treated right. I always feel I can never do enough to help. Trying to change things is hard work. But within this appears a real steely determination, to say what I think, and absolutely not give up on what I believe. I think I inherited this from my Nan, she was exactly the same. Some would say stubborn ; )

I then thought about my friend, who is a human rights lawyer for Amnesty International. She's currently working on a case in Saudi. I'm not actually sure how she does it, I'd get so involved that I'd wear myself out fighting for everyone and everything and get overwhelmed. I want to change the world, stop injustice, poverty and abuse, and have people getting access to what services they need to be able to move on and lead happy lives, but the reality is I can't. I can't get the country out of debt, I can't alter beliefs and laws.

But what I can do is try to help with my little space in the world.

So what does this have to do with sport, triathlon, or anything else?

Well I believe that sport rehabilitates, encourages self esteem, focus, goal setting, and connection to others. I believe this because I am living proof of it. So I plan to volunteer to give this to others, within a healthcare setting, simply because I believe in it. In a time of uncertainty people need something to hope for, something to look forward to, and to be excited about. I remember how I excited I was the first time I ran non-stop for 10 minutes, the first time I cycled up a huge hill instead of getting off.
The Olympics are on their way, and with it a huge opportunity for the country, to install some enthusiasm, national pride, and inspiration from our great athletes.

There was a belly dancing display on today, and a woman next to me said 'I'd love to do that, but I'm just too fat, I'd look stupid'. I told her to just go for it, to get up there. With encouragement she got on the stage and did it. When she came off she had the biggest smile. And so did I.

Was that something wonderful? A cure for cancer, stopping oppression, finding a missing person? Unfortunately not. But for her it was wonderful. She had found a little bit of self confidence, a little bit of 'yeah, I feel good'.
And then she would go and give that goodness to someone else. A smile to the bus driver who was having a particularly shit day. Not moaning at her husband when he forgot to take his boots off at the door again, making him more relaxed. Good feelings vibrate far beyond what we imagine...

With that in mind,
I'm going to change the world. Watch this space.  ; )

Saturdays Session

Had a good session today, a bike ride of around 30 miles and a one and half hour swim.

Waking up I felt rather queasy, had a dinner of exotic mushrooms and mackerel last night, and my stomach did not appreciate it. I nearly didn't go, but decided to just try and see how it went. Glad I did.

On the bike we split into two groups of 4 and did this thing that has a special name... erm... can't quite remember.. something like through and off or similar. Basically when you ride in a straight line, then the one at the front pulls in and everyone else goes forward and the front one joins the back. It was good, I enjoyed it, I used to be really scared of sitting so close to the wheel in front, and was reluctant to do so, but have definitely gained confidence now.  On the way home the two groups joined up and I got to go in the faster group for a short while, which was just fab! We went really fast. Really really fast. I started laughing. Like a ''whhheee this is great fun'' laugh. Not wanting to slow people down when I went at the front I spun my little legs went as fast as they could go, and I hit 27mph. Was grinning like a cheshire cat when I stopped, even with the quads burning!! I'd love to be able to ride like that all the time, it was a proper rush. I mean, that's pretty amazing really. That you can go that quick without an engine. Or wings. The weather and road conditions were on my side though, I must admit. No wind. Or rain. Or ice. Makes a nice change!!!

My swim was just as enjoyable. 10x100m, then 400m at Outlaw pace. I didn't know what Outlaw pace was, so I just went with something that I felt I could maintain over a while. I was really pleased that I did that in 7 mins 37 seconds, I was expecting it to be quite a bit slower. It had felt quite easy. After that I did 4x100 hitting 1.45, then 4x50 hitting 42 seconds.  Followed by 3x50 at Outlaw pace again. This session was to help me get understanding of my RPE. (Rate of Perceived Exertion) I think I now have that, and was able to pace myself correctly each time. When I think back to when I first joined the club, and couldn't even do a length without stopping and did my first tri 400 swim in 10 minutes 15 seconds I can see the huge improvements. It makes me want to keep going! Another thing I discovered today- if I actually kick my legs I go much quicker!! :p

Still anxious about my legs. Had to run for a bus yesterday, and felt pain again. And just as I got there the idiot drove off anyway!! Sure they think that it's funny. Thank God I don't have to frequent public transport often. Had to get a train yesterday as well, that was an experience!! everyone shoving and crammed on like sardines, (Similar smell to sardines in the air too I must add) tripping over bags, tripping over people sitting on the bags, armpits and arses everywhere, oh dear. I was glad to be in the safe confines of my car again today!!

Anyway, the legs. Still sore, but doing my exercises, and I'm going aqua jogging next week too. In a public swim session. They're probably going to wonder what the hell I'm doing. Some one said to me today in between hysterical laughter, ''That's going to draw some attention isn't it, you all tattooed up with your rubber ring on, very nice'. Think he has a point, I am going to look a complete prat. Especially with a swimming hat on. I look ridiculous in a swimming hat. It squeezes my head and makes it look massive. not flattering at all. And mine is bright yellow. So I'm sure I look bizarre. Especially when it begins to slip higher and higher and takes my eyes with it.  That is coupled with goggles that steam up so I can't see and have to lift my head right up to peer out of the bottom. Oh yes, the leisure centre residents are in for a real treat next week!

On that note, it's off to bed for me, got a 3.30 ride tomorrow, going to do some of the Outlaw route.

Rain, Rain, GO AWAY!!!

On Sunday my alarm went off at 5.45am, telling me I had to get up and drive to the cycling meet up point to set off at 7.30am with another person who was doing a longer ride too. (Everyone else would meet us at 9am) The sound of rain pelting on the window swiftly changed my mind. I texted to say I would be there at 9, hopefully it would have died down by then. My wishful thinking.

Set off at 8, and driving there it appeared to get heaver. Along with my heart. I hate cycling in the rain. Don't mind walking, running, whatever, but cycling, no. Within seconds you are drenched through. I don't have mudguards either.  Ugh. Arrived to find everyone getting ready,  (one person in SHORTS??!!)  although it was a much smaller group than usual. (some people have sense) The person I was meant to meet earlier had indeed gone at 7.30, and done an extra hour and a half. (he obviously isn't one of those people) It was his birthday too, and what a way to spend it!!! Let's get up really early and go cycling in the rain for 4 hours. Bizarre.

I was hoping it'd suddenly become a storm, then at least I could refuse to go. -Open countryside riding a piece of metal? Recipe for lightening to strike, much too dangerous- but unfortunately no. it just poured with rain. I began to feel stroppy again. Someone else suggested the turbo, but one of the hardcore people in the group wasn't impressed with that idea. 

'It may be like this in the race, you have to get used to all weathers''

Quick as a flash she replied-

''No it won't, the race is in Majorca''. 

She had a point. 70.3 is in Majorca, and Outlaw is in July. I know our weather is awful, but not that awful. And even if it was, it'd be warm anyway.  And you'd be already wet from swimming so you wouldn't care.

Anyway, as reasonable (and sensible, in my opinion) as these arguments were, we were going, and that was that.  

Unwillingly set off, and within a few minutes I was soaked. And that wasn't an exaggeration. The water splatted up and went straight up my back and through my trousers, the spray from the road soaked my shoes and legs, and my face got a good wash from the person in front spraying mud and water everywhere. Once again I asked myself what the hell I was doing. There must be other hobbies one can do on a Sunday morning that involve less discomfort?

As we descended down a slope on a main road, I couldn't see a thing. I was blinded by the person in front, the rain pelting and stinging my eyes, and to top it off a lorry came past and gave me an extra shower in case I wasn't sodden enough. I took comfort in knowing I was at least hydrated, because most of the spray on the whole stretch of road went into my mouth.

Then there was a shout to stop, apparently we had lost two, Birthday Boy and Shorts Man. After waiting around for about 10 minutes and seeing who could squeeze the most water from their gloves, -note to Endura- do not put ''waterproof'' on the outside of your gloves when they clearly are not. I could squeeze a full pint of water out of them- we began to get cold, so had to carry on. 

Altogether we did about 1 hour 50 minutes, much less than what was on my plan, but I wasn't bothered, I just wanted to get home and dry. My legs began to feel really heavy and cold, my neck was wet and dripping, and my feet were swimming! The last few miles were a struggle. 

Getting back it was straight in the shower, the clothes weighed a ton, no wonder it was hard work!! Once in the shower with the hot water on, my legs went bright red and began to itch, so there you have it- I am obviously allergic to rain and mustn't cycle in it ever again. 

Once four of us were warm and dry and sat in the kitchen, we began to feel quite concerned that Birthday Boy and Shorts Man still weren't back. Obviously it was cold, one had been out since 7.30am, and the other had hardly anything on, so we were wondering if they were alright. After several calls to the mobile and no answer, it was decided to take the car and go and find them.

20 minutes later we were informed that while we had been worrying about crashes, hypothermia, going to A&E and tidal waves, Birthday Boy and Shorts Man were still happily cycling along, oblivious to all the drama they were causing. It turned out that first a pedal had come off, (with foot still attached) then they had a puncture, which was why they had been delayed. Happy Birthday indeed!!

We did have a great end to the day, a birthday celebration, and for a future Outlaw who DEFINITELY deserved some cake (and some respect, for doing 4 hours in that weather, and fixing a pedal and puncture) I had ordered him these fantastic cakes- 

And they were just as nice as they look!

A really lovely end to the day. A few of us agreed that the monsoon had not been anywhere near as bad as the arctic conditions we had a while back anyway. Oh how we suffer for our sport!! ;)

On Monday I went to a running shop that had been recommended. I want to make sure that when I do start running again that I have the right shoes to do so, and I'm comfortable. The ones I had before are definitely not right, I have scars where they blistered my feet.

I had to try some on the treadmill, only for a minute or so, and at a very slow jog pace, but still I could feel quite sharp pain in my legs towards the end. I realised then that I really have done some quite significant 

damage. This thought makes me feel quite downhearted, because I think I'm realising that it's a very real possibility I may not make it to the start line. I'm trying not to think about that scenario, but maybe I'm going to have to. 

For now I have an aqua belt, so will be trying water jogging, and my physio exercises have arrived this morning too.  Now i just need some luck, hope, and to keep my motivation, which appears to have slipped slightly. I just feel a bit 'what's the point'. I know what the point is, and I know what I have to do, maybe my mind is just trying to prepare me for disappointment.  It's quite a test of my mental attitude. 

Love Of Lycra

Triathlon is the one sport that has endless spangly dangly sexy kit. Bikes, trisuits, trainers, wetsuits, gps watches, the list just goes on and on. I spend more on tri stuff than I do ''normal'' clothing. I can't remember the last time I bought a cd, or make up, or a dress.

When I'm driving and I see a cyclist, I look to see what bike they're riding, what it says on their shirt and if they're from a club, and I look at their technique. I find myself wanting to give them that special nod or wave that cyclists give when they pass each other. Apart from I can't, because I'm in the car, and it'd probably completely freak them out and they'd wonder what I was waving at. After all, what car driver actually likes cyclists?! ;)
Same with runners. I look at them and wonder what they're training for, and if they have a Garmin 310xt on the wrist, I almost certainly know they're a triathlete!! And it makes me feel good that other people are out there too.
And when I am walking or driving, I look at cyclists and runners with envy and think, 'I want to be doing that, can't wait to ride my bike later/tomorrow'.

Went to the Triathlon Show today. On the way there in the car we had quite an interesting discussion about kit. It started regarding aero helmets- for or against. I personally absolutely would not. No way. they just look ridiculous!! And having to go at an average of 20mph before the aerodynamics actually even start to make a difference is not much use to me anyway. They just look weird. Sorry to all you alien headed converts out there, but no. It looks wrong.

But contrary to that, I will wear a tight all in one suit,  I will wear skin tight leggings, and I will go out in them! Yes, I have been known to go to friends houses in my skins (a brand of compression leggings for the non-triathletes reading) and club hoody,  I've been to meetings in them, and I often pop and do my shopping as well! And think nothing of it either! In fact I barely even notice anyone staring anymore!

Even more bizarrely, I LIKE wearing this stuff. It's comfortable, I feel at home in it. And I feel good in it! Especially when it all matches.  When I put my new bike stuff on I waltzed about in front of the mirror beaming, and couldn't wait to go out and wear it! This is acceptable in certain circles. An inevitable part of being within that circle actually. A discussion about which compression top squeezes your muscles the tightest or which type of cycle shorts to go for are regular and enthusiastic conversations.  But within the normal world people don't talk about these things.  Or approve.

Upon meeting my friend in town recently she recoiled in horror as I wandered up, in my pink trimmed Orca leggings, pink trainers, and club hoody. I thought I looked fine. in fact, lycra has taken over my jeans for the up and coming casual outfit of now.

As we walked into the show today there were stalls of stuff everywhere,  I didn't know where to look or go to first, it was a true lycra fest. I get excited when I see this stuff! The latest tri suit designs, the flappy arm bits (the advanced aqua zone catch panels) on the new Speedo wetsuit, mirrored goggles, rows of trainers in all different colours, it was great.

I was looking to get some calf guards, and found some... in bright pink. And I mean bright. Think 80s disco. I am naturally drawn to bright colours, particularly on workout gear for some reason. The choices were black (boring), white (will go grey and dirty), and luminous green. I like pink stuff,  have already got a pink watch and pink trainers. The other people I was with didn't look so sure, and tried to steer me away from becoming an extra for Flashdance, but the pink won. I will probably look a complete muppet. But calf guards look strange anyway, so why not stand out too?!

Had a go on a turbo challenge to do a mile as fast as possible up Alp du' huez . The reason I did it? You got a water bottle for taking part. And it was a special edition water bottle. So on the turbo I got in skin tight jeans and pumps. Not the most comfortable experience I've ever had, I can tell you. Ouch.
But I got my bottle and I was really happy!

I think I'm just proud to be part of such a great sport that has given me so much. So when I parade round in my leggings or get excited for stands of gels and protein bars, it's because I love being part of this little community.  So many different people were there today, all united in one thing-
Love of lycra :)

Tough Choices...

So, went to see a physio today..  It wasn't the worst news, but definitely wasn't the best either. In a nutshell, absolutely no running for at least a month, and my shins and lower leg muscles are in very bad shape. There is bone stress too. He will give me masses of strengthening exercises, and see how it goes.

As he said, his (and my) main concern is the time frame we have. In 8 weeks time I'm meant to be doing Ironman Majorca 70.3. I know I can do that, even with not running for a month the fitness I've built from cycling/swimming will carry me through. But... if I do go for that race, and my legs aren't fully healed, I run the risk of buggering up the Outlaw.  My coach suggested today that I could walk the marathon, and that I could just get through it. But that has made me wonder if I want to..

Fair enough, I'm not the worlds greatest athlete, and nor do I expect to be, but do I want to go into the biggest athletic challenge of my life hoping to just 'get through it' ? To me that would put doubt in my mind from the start. The whole time I'd be dreading the marathon, wondering if I'd be able to finish it. My fears are there now, never mind then! And that is without how I'd be after, I do actually want to be able to walk!
I want to look back on this experience and treasure it, remember it for good reasons, not look back and think, 'I wish I hadn't done it'. I want to be on that start line with the knowledge that my mind and body are in the best shape they can be for me to succeed. Not to be thinking 'what if'.

So.. IF I'm ok and fit by May do I do Majorca and take the risk of getting injured
again? Do I do the Outlaw anyway and just 'get through'?  Or do I put the dream on hold until next year.

I guess I can't do anything until 30 days time when I know if my legs are ok. I'll be devastated if I have to pull out, but I'm not going to jeopardise the experience I want to have through impatience either. I want to do it properly, and I want to do it well.

Going to the Triathlon Show tomorrow anyway, that should make me feel a bit better. Even got a packed lunch! Road trip, road trip! :)