A Tale of Two Videos

For the past few weeks I’ve been making a video about dementia.

It was to celebrate ten years of Exeter Dementia Action Alliance and to remember the artist and cartoonist Tony Husband, who worked closely with EDAA for many years.

I’m not a videographer and I made the video as a volunteer and member of the EDAA board, but mostly because I’ve seen several of my loved ones live with and die from dementia, and I’m a dementia carer for my husband John.

I recorded the tracks for my video on my mobile phone. I added photos from the Alliance’s wide collection of albums Shining a Light on Dementia for the last decade. My friend Vic did the narration. Local folk group Show of Hands kindly gave permission to use a soundtrack from their album The Path.

I’ve been sat here editing in recent weeks for many hours on my computer, whilst John, bless him, has been watching daytime TV in the lounge and puffing away on his pipe, every now and then asking where I am, what I’m up to, and can I get the television on the channel he wants to watch.

Both my grandmothers had dementia, my granny Florence, when I was a child, aged about nine, until she died when I was 15. My Nanny Phyllis lived with it when I was older. I cared for a dear friend Stan for two years, he died with dementia in 2008. My Dad Bernard was diagnosed with vascular dementia, aged 70, in 2011. He died in 2015, age 73, just before I ran my 50th marathon raising £6,500 for dementia research charity BRACE.

John was diagnosed with dementia in 2017, age 72. I’ve been his full time carer since.

I made my video as a tribute to all of my loved ones who I tried, and am trying, to help live well with dementia, whilst also being aware of the stark cruelty of this increasingly common disease – one in two of us will be affected by dementia in our lives, either living with the condition, as a carer, or both.

More research for a cure, or at least a reduction in symptoms, is essential and it’s shocking that the prognosis for someone with dementia in 2024 is about the same as it was for my Granny in 1974. Undoubtedly there’s better awareness now, better support and many people do LIVE WELL with dementia.

Exeter Dementia Action Alliance has been at the heart of working towards the city becoming more dementia friendly and it’s been amazing to look back at what’s been achieved. The Private Eye cartoonist and a dear friend of the Alliance, Tony Husband, contributed much to help raise awareness. His sudden death in October 2023 was a huge loss.

I hope my video reflects all of the above.

But this is a tale of two videos, so what about the second? In recent days the Alzheimer’s Society issued a video called The Long Goodbye. There’s been an outpouring on social media condemning it for being bleak and not reflecting the “living well” message they promote through Dementia Friends sessions.

In an attachment to the video the society writes: “At Alzheimer’s Society, we’ll be there for you again, and again, and again. At Alzheimer’s Society, our vision is a world where dementia no longer devastates lives. But we know awareness of dementia amongst the general public is low. This means that it’s not the priority it deserves or needs to be. Through emotive storytelling grounded in real-life experiences, we need to help the public understand that dementia is everywhere and show them the devastation it causes.”

Most likely this video will have had a full production budget, been professionally made and is targeted at raising funding.

It might be emotive storytelling, but to me it lacks compassion – which surely should be at the heart of all we do as caregivers and in life.

Here are the two links, watch both and judge for yourself.

Celebrating Ten Years of Exeter Dementia Action Alliance and Remembering Tony Husband https://youtu.be/vitzyHS2bOY?si=ExhJRR7JXLY4mqrf

The Long Goodbye, Alzheimer’s Society https://youtu.be/NWPA8wa4cME?si=_E3aiaLocuKS7wrh

Ironically, after putting all that effort in I can’t be there for the first public showing tonight, having come down with Covid two days ago.

So I’ll sit here with John as wife, dementia carer, amateur videographer and keep doing my best to help him live well.

The Wood and the Tree

Today is Chinese New Year – of the Wood Dragon – the first time these two symbols of courage and new beginnings have combined since 1964.

Both appropriate as from the start of the western calendar new year I’ve felt deeply challenged, my world imploding at times.

Four weeks ago John began a hospital stay, that I wrote about, but after being discharged his severe back pain and urinary incontinence did not abate. At a GP exam it was suggested he might have a serious condition that could lead to spinal paralysis. I Googled, like you do, decided not to await the urgent referral for MRI, but follow NHS advice and go straight to A&E.

After some initial sceptism that there was anything wrong a CT scan was ordered and it showed John had sustained a recent small spinal fracture, most likely when he fell in early January.

He was so frail that day, clearly distressed at being back in a hospital environment. The only way he would settle was by puffing on his unlit pipe, which the A&E nurses and doctors kindly let pass. Though I did have to confiscate his lighter, one area where H&S really does take priority!

A kind doctor came that evening to tell us John had a fracture and he would happily admit him to a ward for care, as his frailty and issues would be a lot to manage. I considered it for a milli-second, but I knew he would recover more readily in his own space, hence I brought him home.

The next few days were very challenging, as John developed double incontinence day and night, coupled with such muscle weakness it took two of us to hold him up at times. Without a wonderful friend, who is a full-time carer, staying with us I don’t how I’d have coped, also a former ED Nurse who lives nearby helped out and has been a tower of strength.

It was awful to see John at times distressed and looking broken from what was happening to him physically, but he showed amazing resilience, and after each difficult episode once he was back in the comfort of his chair, it was business as usual: “Can you move out of the way, you’re blocking the television. I’d like a glass of wine please. Don’t be long with whatever you’re doing,” all said with such politeness and in typical Johnners style that you couldn’t help but smile and feel relieved he was in his safe space.

In the midst of all this mayhem I managed to mix a set of fibre-filled incontinence pants with the washing, only to find everything covered in white fluff and bung up the filter, not what you need at times like this!

Some of John’s issues were subsequently discovered to be the result of a UTI, and antibiotics prescribed.

By Tuesday as he was thankfully beginning to look better I had a belated meltdown, our lovely Admiral Nurse Liz responded immediately to my email of woe, visited, listened, and made positive things happen like a visit from the Reablement Team and advice about seeking formal domiciliary care.

We’re going to be provided with more mobility aids and medical equipment, including a hospital bed, which I recognise is needed, but feels like another step along the difficult dementia pathway.

The cost of formal regular care is eye-opening, with carefully put aside savings above the government’s £23,000 threshold we’re classed as self-funding. Even with just a two hour a day home visit, the annual costs could exceed £27,000. Ironically the government committed to raising the threshold to £100,000, but because of budgetary pressures it’s delayed until October 2025. By then it won’t matter for us, because we’ll have our own budgetary pressures.

It’s all been so much to take in that last night I called the Samaritans, wonderful non-judgemental people, who by quietly listening help you step back and find perspective.

I woke up this morning feeling a renewed sense of courage and acceptance of change.

An odd coincidence is that this episode with John started at new year soon after a tornado partly felled the large oak tree overlooking our garden. We thought the mighty 200-year-old tree would have to be felled, but in the last two days it has been tightly trimmed.

The deep roots remain, the tree bends more gently with the wind, the removed branches will continue to serve a purpose as useful wood.

On my bedroom floor I have a rug, handmade in the 1930s, by my maternal grandfather. Out of my window a view of the tree remains. This week a friend gave me a carved wooden turtle, as a sign of peace and good luck.

I have a dragon for courage, and in the wood from the tree I can see new beginnings.

As always I write this with the deepest of respect to John and sharing our story that it might help others in similar situations know they are not alone. Thanks as always for reading.

Wishing for all the blessings of a happy Wood Dragon Chinese New Year.

Feeling grateful for moments of calm

Looking back at the last six months, they’ve been a bit s*** at times. It began the morning after John’s 79th birthday, July 26th, he woke up covered in poo and over the next three months to the middle of October it was a few times weekly if not daily occurrence, involving clothing, bedding, carpets, bath mats, and John himself.

Obviously I was in contact with his GP, they did several tests, but never got to the bottom of it, no pun intended. Then as suddenly as it started, it stopped, or more accurately went back to the intermittent double incontinence episodes which are part of John’s ongoing health issues.

I’m open about writing about how I’ve been affected by mental health issues over the years, how dementia affected my dad, how it’s affected John and I’m typing this now having asked John if it’s OK to write about these personal things and with the deepest of respect to him for how he stoically copes with his various issues.

Recently he’s had a few falls, lower back pain and increased urinary incontinence. He was in hospital for five days and faces ongoing tests including for enlarged prostate, very much in today’s news because of King Charles being open about his condition. Another reason I feel emboldened to write honestly about John, in the hope it helps other people living with similar issues.

In hospital one of the lovely nurses Natalie, said to John she thought he sounded like King Charles. “Bugger that,” said John in reply. “Oh yes that’s just like King Charles,” laughed Natalie.

It was a light hearted human moment in what was at times a rather detached hit and miss experience of being in hospital. The staff were clearly under pressure and working hard, but John’s dementia was not always taken into account and on the day of discharge it was me as his carer asking questions that prompted further issues to be considered, hence the forthcoming prostate exam.

John was so down in hospital, it was sad to see, away from his chair, TV, his pipe and usual home comforts. On the evening of admission, after a day in A&E, the ward nurse asked if he’d like a drink: “Yes I’d like a glass of red wine please,” said John quick as a flash. Vintage Johnners!

It’s not easy being a carer at the best of times, and when the person you’re caring for develops other issues beyond the everyday, it becomes even harder.

But I’m determined to keep doing my best for John, try and look after myself as well, four months of tinnitus and two months of a cough, hasn’t helped.

We’ve had a rough six months, I’m hoping the next six will be easier and looking forward to celebrating John’s 80th birthday with all the wonderful carers, friends and family who are helping us both cope. Thank you all.

It was about this time four weeks ago that part of the garden oak tree came down on a wild stormy night. A hint of red sky out there now and all is calm. I’m grateful for such moments.

Fundraising is a team effort

I had the honour and privilege recently to be invited to be a guest on the South West Coast Path Association podcast to celebrate its 50 years.

This is the link to the recording… https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/southwestcoastpath/episodes/Making-A-Difference-e2bu3oe?fbclid=IwAR2T4wv79B1dQipTXakh8Llq1oSsE9cO7YXQu6PNVqEmDaj2_TY8kyklT2o

Listening to it tonight with John, my husband, who lives with dementia, I was struck not by what I said, but by what I didn’t say.

For instance I didn’t say that when I walked the entire coast path in 1998 John drove to wherever I was every weekend to bring me clean clothes and take my smelly pile of dirty laundry home to wash.

I didn’t say that my Dad carried my heavy bag several times on that 1998 walk, or that he drove a camper van as back up support when I walked around Devon in 2003.

Those two walks raised £20,000. Without John and Dad I don’t know how they would have been possible.

I didn’t say that when Dad was diagnosed with dementia and I embarked on a marathon fundraising challenge, which raised £6,500 for dementia research charity BRACE, that my regular running friend Jane literally held me up many times when I was on my knees, nor that without Jane and other running friends Helen, Becky, Claire, I’m not sure how I would have reached my 50th marathon goal 8 weeks after Dad died.

Dad, friend Pam and John 2003 walk

I didn’t properly say that it’s the amazing support of many friends from Sidmouth Running Club that have helped keep me going since John was diagnosed with dementia in 2017 and without whom I would not have reached my 100th marathon this July.

They’re the same friends who’ve kindly supported my fundraising with donations over the years. And my many non running friends and family too, who’ve sent messages of encouragement, donations, shared social media links, come to cheer me on.

John doesn’t remember much these days about things we’ve done. But listening to the podcast tonight he did remember, as we talked afterwards, about doing my laundry all those years ago.

Three things that are truly unforgettable:

That as a fundraiser you rely entirely on those who support your fundraising.

The South West Coast Path

Smelly washing

With thanks to each and every person who’s helped me in my fundraising efforts over the years ❤ (NB: doing my washing is not a compulsory part of supporting any future fundraising activities I may choose)

Rainbows

This afternoon has been one of those times where feeling a bit anxious, a bit out of sorts, I’ve not felt like doing very much at all.

The skies in my own life have felt a bit grey recently, John’s dementia and other connected issues have been increasing and I’m aware that this is a time of change for us, not sweeping changes but enough tweaks to consider to pause and reflect on what options there are.

Admiral Nurse Liz came into our lives recently like a ray of sunshine and other people are going to be helping too. A busy week awaits with several meetings lined up.

I feel so tired though from recent events that sometimes I wonder if I will cope.

It’s so hard watching someone you love decline with dementia.

I’m watching that with John every day.

I watched it with my dad, who died age 73 of vascular dementia in 2015.

This afternoon I’ve been reading the moving book ‘Take Care, Son’ written and illustrated by cartoonist Tony Husband following his dad’s death from dementia in 2011, strangely the year my dad was diagnosed.

Tony himself died just over two weeks ago, suddenly and unexpectedly, age 73. A big loss, he was a thoughtful, talented, generous man who did much work to raise awareness around dementia, among his wide and varied portfolio of humorous poignant cartoons and beautiful nature based artwork.

I consider myself lucky to have known him. And I am especially grateful that he was always so kind to John.

As I sat in our conservatory today reading Tony’s tribute in Private Eye, a magazine he worked for for over 40 years, and his lovely book, gifted to me recently (thank you Clint) the grey, rainy skies have been regularly brightened up by rainbows.

Since Dad died rainbows have always been extra-special to me, a sign of his presence, peace and that all will be well.

Dad and I often sat here together in the conservatory, where I’m typing this on my phone, in those last months and weeks before he went into a care home for 24/7 care, for which I was so so sad that he could no longer be looked after at home, but I knew it was the right decision.

I don’t know what the future holds, short term or long term, who of us does? But I know there are discussions to be had, options to consider.

The rainbows today gave me comfort, for they brought light and reflection.

Here they are in pictures…

Magical Memories

I’ve been on a trip down memory lane recently, so it seems fitting that the project I’ve been working on I completed coincidentally on the eve of World Alzheimer’s Day.

Twenty years ago, in September 2003, when I was then the Exeter reporter for BBC Radio Devon, I walked 460 miles around the county, doing daily inserts on air and recording interviews with people I met on route.

They were a diverse mix of shopkeepers, pub landlords and landladies, other walkers, those who’d lived in Devon all their life and those who’d relocated. At Brayford I spoke to the wonderful Fred Bawden who made handmade signposts and passing Powderham Castle I had tea with the then 18th Earl of Devon, the late Hugh Courtenay.

Listening back to the cassette tape of those interviews I realised one thing united them all, their love for this glorious county and the wonderful memories they all kindly shared of their time here.

It sparked so many memories for me listening back to the programme I made, with the editing help of my BBC colleague Vic Morgan, which was broadcast on December 31st that year.

With the wonders of modern technology I’ve weaved together photos of my journey at the time, and scenic photos taken since, to make an audio-visual archive, which I’ve uploaded to YouTube.

At 54 minutes long, this is not your tick tock beat the clock soundbite, more sit back with a cup of tea, put your feet up and sink into it – or you could stick with the modern way and listen to it in 27 two minute bursts!

The walk was in aid of the BBC Radio Devon Chestnut Appeal for prostate cancer and that theme of men and families being affected by this disease, that will strike 1 in 8 men, runs through the whole programme.

I remember how affected I was meeting those who shared their personal stories and I was thankful for the fantastic support my walk received, raising in total £17,000 towards the appeal.

Another disease that’s vastly affected my own life is dementia – hence the pertinence of this share for World Alzheimer’s Month and Day. A startling statistic from dementia research is that one two of us will be affected by dementia in our lifetime either by caring for someone with the condition, developing it ourselves, or both.

My dad Bernard who supported the walk as back-up driver of our camper van was diagnosed with vascular dementia eight years later and he died in 2015, aged 73.

My husband John was diagnosed with dementia in 2017, now aged 79, he’s living fairly well with me as his carer, but sadly he has no real memory of my walk and limited understanding of me putting this multi-media project together.

Possibly that’s been my motivation to give these twenty year old memories this new airing, I don’t know. All I know is I’ve done my best, please forgive the technical glitches, the odd typo, the absence of some picture locations… I’m not expecting this video to go viral, but I hope you enjoy it, and perhaps with a few likes and shares it will gently spiral.

Thank you.

Around Devon with Jo

The Snagged T-shirt

It’s just over a week since I completed my 100th marathon, woo-hoo!

It was a fantastic, memorable day, running friends joining me on a choice of three different distances, friends and family coming to watch on route and at the finish, and then a very happy afternoon tea party get together back in our garden.

The pictures tell it better than I can. Here we are at the start and on the route, the Mighty Greens out in force…

We stopped several times to chat, then just over 6 hours, 22 minutes later, the end was in sight, me dancing the last few steps and hugging John at the finish line.

Then celebrations all round.

And back to ours for afternoon tea and a scrumptious cake, made by my very talentend niece Jo of Cake Me Away

Freddie, our lurcher loved it too, looking out for left-overs on people’s plates, putting his head in the clotted cream dish (oops!), and sitting on my fab new gift cushion long before I did.

It was the first time too that I got to wear my splendid new 100 Marathon Club T-shirt, something that has taken 18 years to chalk up the required 2,620 miles to have the right to wear and which for the last couple of months has been lying safely wrapped in a bag, only being taken out once to have my name printed on it.

I proudly put it on after crossing the line.

Less than 48 hours later I was gutted when I snagged it on some velcro, as I was lifting John’s walking frame into the car, leaving a series of pulled lines all across the front.

My beautiful T-shirt, no longer in mint condition, no longer perfect.

I thought briefly of sending off for a replacement, a pristine new one, without the snags. But then it wouldn’t be the T-shirt I’d worn on the day, the one I’d excitedly taken to the printers a few weeks ago, and what would I do with the snagged one if I replaced it with new?

There’s a Japanese philosophy wabi-sabi that’s about accepting imperfection, valuing the marks of wear of and tear from use. In China and Japan they also practice kintsugi, drawing attention to the cracks in an object by mending and then highlighting the repair with gold paint.

It certainly seems a better answer than a throwaway society that in seeking perfection, simply ends up with lots of broken unwanted, unloved things.

A friend said, as we discussed the subject of antiques in mint condition being worth more than those that had been used, how sad to see toys that have never been out of a box, never played with and loved.

It’s been an amazing journey to reach 100 marathons, but I’m so glad I ventured out of my comfort zone to do it, despite the falls and bumps on the way, the imperfect moments.

I loved my T-shirt when it was perfect, I love it still, and I will wear it with pride snags and all.

With thanks to all who’ve supported me throughout my marathon journey, and especially for the 100th, and the sponsorship and donations for my three chosen causes Exeter Dementia Action Alliance, The Samaritans, and the South West Coast Path – I’m delighted to have surpassed my £780 target, and to have raised £1,051.20.

Running Ripple Rewards

With less than a week to go to my 100th marathon, it’s a good time to stop and think about the rewards running has brought into my life and others.

From the moment I entered the London Marathon in 2005 there’s been a huge ripple effect bringing many fantastic experiences, meeting wonderful people, and one of the things I’m most proud of an enduring legacy of fundraising and fun through the creation of a community race in my home village.

After entering London I realised I needed some extra training help, so I joined the Women’s Running Network, Exeter group, which was run by Network founders Pauline Beare and Peg Wiseman. They were a great inspiration in how to complete the marathon distance and in putting on events. It was their shorter distance running challenges that gave me the idea for a one off fundraising race for the 40th anniversary of our village playing field.

I remember when I pitched the idea someone querying why anyone would pay to run down the river, when they could do it for nothing as it was a public footpath. I had my doubts too as to how many entries we’d get and how on earth you put on a race, but Pauline and Peg were great mentors and helped me get it off the ground.

That was back in 2007, and 16 years later the Otter Rail and River Run is still going strong, having taken place every year, apart from 2020 Lockdown. It’s become an important fundraiser for the community owned volunteer run playing field, now bringing in a quarter of its annual maintenance income.

But the ripples are measured in much more than money. At this weekend’s run there were runners who’ve taken part from the start, those doing it as their first ever race, and those who’ve returned year after year once they discover it, including three campers all from different parts of the country who pitch their tents by the riverside and have an annual social catch-up.

A Magnificent Mighty Green turnout by my home club Sidmouth Running Club

10km start, picture Chris Woodcock

Jackie Box fun run, picture Chris Woodcock

Volunteers put this event on, since 2019 led by Jemma Wiltshire, as race director, and Mo Mylne co-ordinating the magnificent team of marshals and helpers – as the medics helping on the day said: “What a fantastic community event.”

It’s fantastic too to see the smiling faces of the children in the fun run, delighted with their shiny medal and their squiggly jelly snake. The faces of runners in the 10km crossing the line are always a mixture of fatigue and delight, 233 crossed the line this year in times from varying from 35:39 to 01:35:34 and all ages, including Marion, from Sidmouth Running Club, who celebrated her 75th birthday by running the route with her family. Next year she’s doing her first marathon, London, how fantastic is that!

Which brings the running ripples back full circle from grassroots 10kms like Tipton to the big city marathons and other running events which take place across the country, and around the world, and which bring thousands of people together, sometimes running for just sheer enjoyment or is it endurement, and also those raising combined millions of pounds for charities.

My marathon journey has taken me all around the UK, to different parts of the world, that I might never have visited. It’s seen me collapsed on the floor from physical and mental exhaustion and punching the air on an endorphin rush high.

I’m amazed to be on the verge of running my 100th, humbled by the encouragement and support of family and friends, and by the donations that have come in, including £80 raised at Saturday’s 10km, thank you, and thanks to everyone who has donated through my sponsor page for dementia, the Samaritans and the coast path – all causes connected to my marathon journey and the ripples of my life.

From £2,600 to 2,600 miles…

...or my charitable causes – like buses, none at all or three at once!

When I decided to run the London Marathon in 2005, it was intended as a one-off 40th birthday challenge, and having secured a charity place with Help the Hospices I went all out to raise money and was thrilled, and thankful to friends and family, to reach £2,600.

Eighteen years later and hopefully soon to reach in excess of 2,600 marathon miles, I still marvel at the positive difference running has made to my life and the money raised for many different charities. Thanks to incredible generosity the total is around £13,000, of which half was for dementia research charity BRACE on completion of my 50th marathon at age 50, a big fundraising push as my dad was then living with dementia.

Sadly Dad passed away aged just 73, the age that my husband John was when he was diagnosed with dementia in 2017. 2017 was the same year I made the first of, what became, quite a few calls to The Samaritans after the sudden death of my lovely mum left me suffering from sustained and severe panic attacks. One of the ways that helped me deal with both these sadnesses was finding my happy place running on the South West Coast Path.

I walked this 630-mile spectacular trail in one go in 1998, and it’s been fantastic to return to it as a runner and tackle the often challenging terrain in all weathers, all seasons, and all four counties. Twenty-five of my 48 marathons in the last six years have been on the coast path.

It was therefore the obvious choice for marathon 100 – which will be the Exe Estuary Marathon on Sunday 16th July, an event put on by the excellent organisers Winding Paths.

I haven’t done any marathon fundraising since the 50th eight years ago – you can’t keep asking the same people – but I couldn’t let 2,600 miles pass without putting forward causes close to my heart.

So with two months to the big day, I’m launching my, click here… Sponsor Me fundraising page in support of: Exeter Dementia Action Alliance, a local organisation that raises awareness about dementia; The Samaritans (Exeter and District Branch), what compassionate, understanding people the Samaritans are; and the South West Coast Path Association, which supports the stunning natural trail, Britain’s longest.

It’s fitting timing, as this week in May also happens to be Dementia Action Week, Mental Health Awareness Week, and the start of the Coast Path 50th anniversary Trailblazer walk.

As I said, my charitable causes appear like buses, none at all or three at once!

Any support would be most welcome, thank you.

Ninety-nine is Mighty Fine

Back in 2005, the year I did my first marathon, I was walking on the South West Coast Path when a group of runners appeared and flew down the steep muddy steps at a fast pace, calling out as they went “have you seen other runners go this way?”

“Yes!” I just had time to shout back… “what race are you doing?”

“The Exe to Axe, from Exmouth to Seaton,” came the reply.

Knowing the terrain and distance between these two Jurassic coast towns, I couldn’t believe people would contemplate taking on that route in one day, let alone running it.

I thought of this on Sunday as I set off from Exmouth to Seaton, via the River Otter to make the distance 26.2 miles, for the inaugaral Sweetcombe Scramble Marathon and my 99th.

I still don’t know how I went from basically passive observer to marathon participant, but there’ve been many miles and adventures along the way to reach this point. And it was such a great feeling to be running my penultimate marathon of the 100 along familiar coastal trails, with close friends in an event put on by my own Sidmouth Running Club and knowing many of the fabulous marshals and volunteers who made it happen.

Huge thanks to our chairman Terry Bewes, race director David Lee, and chief administrator Rob Edwards for their hard work in putting on a fantastic event, and the many others who helped, especially Alexa and Kyle Baker.

The marathon and its long-time 22 mile version JP’s Exe to Axe were part of a whole weekend of events put on by Sidmouth Running Club to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the South West Coast Path, and also included people canoeing, cycling, walking, and children’s races.

The club is known as the Mighty Greens and they all did Mighty Well this weekend, with many club members taking part in some way.

It was a terrific way to celebrate the golden year of this great natural asset, 630 miles from Minehead via Land’s End to South Haven Point, which I walked in one go 25 years ago and have walked and run in sections many times since.

I’ve chosen the coast path as the spot for my 100th marathon too, it will be the Exe Estuary Marathon, put on by Winding Paths, on Sunday 16th July.

So a few months to go before I get the famous 100 Marathon Club blue T-shirt.

Until then being a Mighty Green on 99 is mighty fine.

With great running friends Leeann and Jane