Running Reflections: Creating Memories

At the turn of the year, it's time to look back; to reflect on what we've done and what we've failed to do. To focus on our achievements, to remember the big events both happy and sad and, at some level, to calculate whether it's been a good year or not. Hopefully we then turn our eyes to the year to come and new goals and dreams.

Running is obviously a massive part of my annual calculation, adding to the sum of happiness and disappointment. Did I set great goals to reach during 2013; goals that challenged and motivated me?  Did I give  my all to reach those goals? To make them real? Did I push myself to my limits and beyond, into the really memorable?

In my few years as a runner, I've learnt the hard way that it doesn't really matter if the goal is to get out the front door and do that first run; to rebuild strength and form after injury or run a marathon or 12.  Watching runners across the world on Twitter and Facebook set and reach their goals, it's clear the only goals that matter are the ones that are deep down and personal to us. Comparison is often futile.

My running goals have changed immensely over the years. Year 1 -  run my first half marathon. Year 2 started with injury, my goal was simple, to be able to run, full stop. Last year - run a marathon.  Whilst the marathon is the 'show' one, it would never have happened if the clinically obese Sue hadn't had the guts to shoe up and get out there.  Next year is not showy, but is critical to my overall goal of a long, healthy running filled life. My goal for 2014 is to re-build the form, becoming a stronger, more efficient runner preparing for a marathon the year after.

So I thought I'd got next year's goals sorted out. But then I had an experience that transformed my thinking about running and running goals forever: I had my very own paradigm shift.

The catalyst was a remarkable organisation called Sporting Memories Network.  Sporting Memories Network works across Great Britain using memories about sports to help older people, including people with dementia, to stimulate the mind, body (and I would say the soul).  I heard of them through the North Berwick Day Centre that Mum used to attend and I got in touch to find out more.

I was entranced. I know from my own experience of the power of memory; how easy it is to take it for granted that, with a few slips, we will remember the important things in life. If only it worked that way!  With a lot of dementias of various kinds in the family, I know how precious our memories are.  As dementia took its hold I've watched as loved ones lost their ability to hold onto their thoughts, relationships and experiences; sometimes losing the very sense of who they are. I held their hands as they struggled to express themselves and their emotions, sometimes frightened by the void.

Seeing the face of a loved one light up when they remember something is better than the most beautiful sunrise you'll ever see. Memory becomes a gift, something special to be valued in its complexity and richness. So when I heard about sporting reminiscences and the work they do, I was delighted. Have a look at Bill's story and the way his sporting history reminds us of the man he is and the life he has lived.  Bill's story reminds Bill, his family, friends, carers and us readers that Bill has a life to live.

I was out running when it dawned on me that I've got sporting memories now; and that every time I run I'm creating my own reminiscences. Okay, I'm not going to get a gold medal, but I have a sporting story and it's a story that runs like a river of achievement through my life.  It's got a few race for life runs; it's got a marathon; it's got injury and recovery; it's got guts and glory. Every run I do is another paragraph in my running story and it's a story that I have created.

I started running because of my Dad, to stick two fingers up at the Parkinson's and Dementia that stole his freedom to move and be himself. I never thought for a moment that my first painful run would end up in a marathon and who knows what next.   Dad loved sport and he would have loved the sporting reminiscences:  the great days of Yorkshire County Cricket Club, his rugby, his work with young players helping to bring them on. I wish we'd had sporting memories for him. But it's not too late for us to invest in our own personal legacy of sporting reminiscences to inspire our old age and tell future generations about their history.

In 2014, I've got running goals for the year but I also have goals for a life time.  What running memories will I create this year? What reminiscences will I have when I sit and look back on a life well run? It's all up to me.

Watch this space!

Wishing you and yours a happy, healthy and joy filled New Year and truly memorable 2014!

Take care

Suex

Thank You to urban fitness gb team for doing Arch2Arc for Alzheimer's!

This is a special blog from me and Mum to say a big thank you to Urban Fitness GB who are going a little bit out of their way for charity.  These guys are going to do an 87 mile run from London to Dover, swim the English Channel and finish off with a 181 bike ride to Paris and they're going to try and break the world record for doing it.  Awesome, as young folk say these days, totally awesome.  They are raising money for  Alzheimers UK and the The Firefighters Charity.
I want to say thank you because what they are doing makes a difference to people's lives and I want them and you to know why I personally want to support what they're doing and why it matters.  It's all about me and my Mum. There's Mum in the photo - we're feeding the hens at Knowes Farm Shop. Mum has Alzheimer's and is just amazing in how she copes with it. Visiting the chickens is a happy time for us, it takes Mum back to her childhood - remembers all you ever need to know about raising hens.

But Alzheimer's is much more than just a failing memory. It is a cruel and horrible disease and if I ever needed a reminder, I got one last night.  I went round to Mum's yesterday after work and found her in tears outside her house, wandering in different directions, totally distracted and very distressed. She was looking for Dad. Dad died just over two years ago and up until recently Mum knew that all the time, now she only knows it most of the time, yesterday she'd forgotten. When she forgets, Mum hears Dad's voice calling her, hears him in the house, sees him out of the corner of her eye. Mum searches, but she can't find him, so she searches inside, outside, in cupboards, under the bed, desperate to find him, unable to understand why he's not there. Dad was there for 52 years, she remembers that, for now.

I walked her gently inside and we sat down. I stroked Mum's hand and spoke very calmly and soothingly, touch and tone communicate so much. We talked through what happened and what she did and how the problem with her memory means that sometimes she forgets even very important things. Mum says it's because she's still in shock at him going, that if it wasn't for her family she couldn't go on, and we leave it at that. Just how much reality can one person take at once.

We start to talk about happy times, and Dad bless him comes to our aid. We laugh at stories about Dad and his DIY (dire!), his love of cricket, his sense of humour and those family camping holidays (never again). Gradually things get back to what counts for normal these days and Mum smiles again, enjoying being able to remember things for now. I head home in tears. Thankful that for now Mum is okay and just has normal grief to live with.

It breaks my heart that Mum has a disease that does this to her, that tortures her like this. Each time she goes through it it's like Dad dies again for her and she is bereft.  My dear Grandad had Alzheimer's too and the irony of ironies is that Grandad, like Mum, also forgot that his wife, my Granny had died and wept afresh when he was told. In the end his children had to say she was in hospital, no one could bear going through it any more, soon I will have to do that too. Dad went through all this himself with his own father, he'd be heart broken that his dear wife was going through it, but happy that I was there as he was for his Dad.  What makes me sadder and even madder is that Mum's not alone. What scares the life out of me is how many millions more like Mum and Grandad there will be in the future unless we stop this disease somehow. It is not a natural part of aging, it's not a bit of a memory problem, it is not normal, it is a horrible disease that destroys lives, removes dignity and is very, very cruel.

I want this awful disease stopped and I want everyone like Mum to be helped. I can't tell you how scary it is for her to go through all this and how brave she is every single moment of her waking hours. Alzheimer's Scotland and Alzheimer's UK have helped me and Mum cope in so many ways and fight for the rights and dignity of everyone with Alzheimer's, their families and friends. Mum and me can't do this alone and I am glad we've got them fighting for us.  We're going to need them more than ever in future.

So that's why I want to say thank you to these amazing guys and every one who does something special to raise money for Alzheimer's charities. Mum and millions like her are what it's all about, that's why what they are doing matters. Their amazing feat will make a difference to real people like Mum.  You can help too, please sponsor these guys  Urban Fitness GB Arch 2 Arc Challenge
Guys, when your legs ache and you hit the wall, I hope you'll think of Mum and all the millions of others with Alzheimers and know that they're worth it and that we thank you for what you're doing for us. Mum says that it helps to know that there are people out there who care enough to help. It's not just about the money, it's that you care. Thank you.


Take care

Sue and Sue's Mum

Running for Dad - the Edinburgh Half Marathon

I still can't believe I did it, that I ran 13.1 (+) miles.  All the training runs, all the advice I read, nothing prepared for me the experience of that first half marathon. I was used to running with a chum or two and on long runs was very much a lone wolf - sticking on the headphone and setting off for a few hourse with Jenni Murray to keep me going. Running the Edinburgh Half on Sunday was something else...

I'd thrown myself into the pre race tweeting and face booking which was great to get to know some of the basics about what was to come. I asked lots of stupid questions, realised that lots of us were nervous and got an idea of just how different we all were, but all coming together to run. It was great and I really felt part of something as I headed off to Meadowbank Stadium.  It was so exciting to see people walking, cycling and bussing to the stadium in all sorts of gear.  But I was nervous too and poor Ali left a rather tense wife in the queue for the porta loos.  I was not alone and the queue got longer and longer, but luckily for me I was befriended and soothed by some lovely ladies from North Berwick. 

Then into the stadium to walk about and get my bearings. I stood in the sun to get warm and gradually began to relax and just absorb the fact that I was about to do what I'd been planning for about 6 months.  As the elite runners headed off, we all waved and clapped and I once again had that lump in my throat. What is it about these runs that is so moving? There is something so completely and wonderfully human about long runs, unaided by wheels or bits of wood, just legs and what we can persuade our bodies and minds to do.

And then it was my turn and  the 2 to 2.5 hour runners were off. No amount of lecturing about water loss could stop be sniffling as I headed towards the gate and the open roads of Edinburgh.  We had started. It was slow and packed, but I just told myself I had plenty of time for a burst of speed later on and that did the trick.  I headed off to Afro Celt Sound System - suitably Celtic and atmospheric and just went with the flow.  Gradually I became aware of a really weird flopping/slapping noise, quite unlike anything I've ever heard before. It was the sound of thousands of trainers hitting the Leith pavements. I have that sound in my head and will carry it with me forever - the sound of runners en masse. Never expected that one!

It was the most beautiful sunny day, just great to be alive and outside, and so great to be able just to run and enjoy it. Some of the runners did tend to cut me up a bit. At 5'2" and being a female of a certain age, I am not unused to being invisible until trodden on, but I was a bit freaked by some of the close shaves. However, the zen of the run (or maybe the endorphins!) came to my rescue and I decided I had to run my own race, to own my bit of the road  and not be intimidated. It worked and I relaxed - I wish it was always that easy!

There were so many high spots. The kind and warm Edinburgh and East Lothian people who came out to wave and wish us well, particularly at the end where some lovely people really kept me going and made me cry again!  The marshalls were just wonderful, really encouraging and gave up their time to make sure we didn't get lost. The kids and dogs who thought we were really amusing and a bit bonkers (how true) and the police and ambulance folks who kept us safe.  Most of the drivers were friendly and patient too, I hope they all got where they needed to on time.

It was hard work at the end, I have never been so happy to see Cockenzie Power Station and turn that last corner. I saw the finishing line and it was truly one of the best sights ever. I still don't know why it seemed to move further away the more I ran, but I did get there in the end. I made it over the line at 2h 5 minutes, my final time was 1 hour 58 minutes and 57 seconds. Ali was waiting for me with a big hug and a post race bag of goodies. I'd made it.

As we left a sunny and busy Musselburgh RaceCourse, I'd already started to think about what next. If I can do a half marathon then one day I can do a full one, it's just about training and hard work. 

Once again I'd proved to myself that I can achieve what I set out to, that I can do challenging things, that I can go beyond my own expectations.  Just like losing weight, I could do it if I set my mind and heart on it. All that and it's good for you too! 

As we left the stadium, I knew that somewhere my Dad was so proud of me. Parkinson's Disease had stolen a lot of his life from him and his family. He loved to be active and it was his death two years ago, almost to the day, that had inspired me to do things now whilst I still can. I'd run for him and for Mum who has Alzheimer's. 
Here's a piccie of a very happy but tired me at the end.

Happy running!

Love, Sue