Here. Now.

I was sitting staring at the screen for ages earlier today trying to think how to write this post – wondering how best to describe how I’m feeling.

To be perfectly honest I’m not really sure. The positive and negative seems to ebb and flow like a tide. Catch me at one moment and I might be upbeat, another full of sorrow.

The “here and now” title came to me, because that’s what I spent much of Sunday morning telling myself as I tried to focus when running the Brighton Marathon, the first since my dad died just a week earlier, and number 48 of my 50 marathon challenge.

I wasn’t sure until the last moment whether I’d make the start, let alone the finish, but somehow on the day it just felt like the right thing, and also to do my best for dad. I know it’s what he would have wanted.

I returned to my “here and now” mantra many times during the race – having a conversation with myself, which went something like: “Where are you?” “Here!” “When is it?” “Now!”

brighton 2015It’s what I do to keep focussed when I’m finding running – or pretty much anything really – hard going. Just keep in the present, that step you’re in, don’t worry about where your foot was a moment ago, where it will land next – just be here, be now.

Something about it must have worked, because I got round in 4:25, my best time in the last 12 months. It felt like dad was with me all the way – cheering me on at the finish.

It was only after I crossed the line that I sat and cried my heart out.

I know dad would have been pleased as well when a couple of weeks ago at our Sidmouth Running Club AGM I was named the Runners’ Runner of the Year. It was a great honour – me not being one of the athletic speedy types in the club – to be chosen by my fellow members.

20150406_142213I meant to tell dad about the trophy – a beautiful rose bowl – when I went to see him a few days later in the nursing home.

Being totally absent minded I forgot.

I was going to write about it last week, but life’s been a bit turned upside down since then and somehow the bowl and the story lost its shine a bit.

But running is helping to keep me going – well sort of. It was club night tonight – I totally forgot that the venue had changed and tried two different places, before getting it right the third time.

I feel as if I’m living in a kind of fog – every now and then it lifts and I can do something clearly, then it descends again and I’m lost.

I’m sure it won’t last forever. I’m sure I will pull through it.

But for me, it is currently my here, my now.

PS: I wrote that last night, but I’ve woken up to a brighter morning, feeling slightly better and decided to add a couple of pictures today.






One thought on “Here. Now.

  1. Chris Woodcock

    life is very similar to running marathons – you have good patches, bad phases and sometimes get injured – but you keep going anyway – and you find great rivals who become good friends – “do you remember when we . . . . and she . . . ?” – keep it all up young lady – tease you again soon – C


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