Goodbye Vile Kyle, the monster cat from hell

If you'd met Kyle towards the end of his 17 and a bit years you'd have thought he was a real sweetie. Every day he walked a bit more like John Wayne and he purred like a Rolls Royce. Kyle in his dotage was a total darling.  But in his youth, Kyle was known, with some justification as Vile Kyle, the monster cat from hell.

Kyle as a kitten had brown curly fur and even more than his sister Bute, he was totally devoted to me.  He would climb up my dressing gown and snuggle down the front or hang round my neck purring in my ear.  Kyle was a great hunter and brought me many presents over the years. But he didn't go for mice or birds (well not much), as befits an island cat, Kyle preferred to fish. Kyle did a special kind of air fishing. He fished washing off the neighbour's washing lines. Socks were his favourite. You'd hear him from some distance away, a muffled yowl as he told the world about his prize and then dragged it through the cat flap. Underwear, children's clothes, a swimming costume, toys, tea towels, cleaning clothes - all sorts of things would be waiting for me when I got back from work.  When I could, I left the day's catch on the front wall  but I did draw the line at leaving out the calvin klein's he brought back once.

Kyle was also famous for being totally and utterly vicious even to my Dad whom every furred and feathered creature under the sun loved. Dubbed 'Vile Kyle' by my nieces after one of his more spectacular rages, I secretly admired his uncompromising commitment to living life on his terms. Mind you, I usually escaped his fury. How one small ball of black fur can scare the beejesus out of my Dad, my nieces and for a time even Ali, is beyond explanation.

It was partly his gimlet eye, partly the sharp and gleaming claws but what made Kyle truly awesome was his lightening quick reflexes. Kyle used to lash out from unexpected places at passing legs, arms, scarves, whatever was nearest. Of course I knew he was only playing. Even towards the end of his years, the vet had to move pretty quickly when he tried to cut Kyle's claws. I felt a glow of maternal pride that the old Kyle was still there. Ali always said I was like one of those women in East Enders, who after another emotional battering would say 'he's a good boy really'. And of course Kyle was, underneath it all.

Kyle used up his quota of lives and a few more besides. He was at death's door on the vets table at least 3 times, but kept coming back stronger than before despite failing kidneys, a weird cold type thing and a spot of the old dementia. We'd almost begun to believe that Kyle might just live forever.

Alas dear Kyle only lasted a few weeks longer than his sister Bute and we said farewell to him a few days ago. His time had come when he couldn't get up for breakfast, his legs had finally gone, probably jumping off the settee. The house is now cat-less, or at least it's supposed to be. I guess after 32 years with a cat round the place, it's not surprising that I still hear cat chat and the little chirrups and squeaks that populate the feline/human interface. The terrible twins have left a fair bit of fluff, fur and happy memories behind them.

The day I brought the terrible two some home from Rothesay, I swore I wouldn't love another cat like I loved their predecessor Damian.  But of course I did, they stole our hearts. It is better to have loved than lost and Vile Kyle and Cute Bute are absolutely part of our family history. Tales will be told of the vicious, almost indestructible cat with the awesome life force and the wicked sense of humour, the indefatigable Kuyle.

So farewell my furry friends. You are missed.

Too teary to write about running. Take care

Suex

A little bit of help:

Okay,  Summer's over, the nights are fair drawing in and work's on a mad rush before Christmas.  Things are hectic. Getting out of bed in the dark is hard work. Going out for a run in the cold is hard work. Resisting that chocolate biscuit is a real challenge. This is the time of year when the lure of the armchair is strong.  This is the time of year when my will power has its work cut out.

I've blogged before about will power; it's like a muscle, you can train it and strengthen it, but if pushed too hard it can get worn out. By the time I get home from work, my will power runs at a peep. That's when I get my reward for getting through the day (and they do say will power is linked to low blood sugar levels).  On good days or when the wind allows, my reward might be a run, or in the summer we go for a walk. But on the bad days, especially the cold, dark, wet winter evenings, my attention turns to cake or a slice of toast (or maybe even a glass of wine!).

So I was intrigued to hear about some research (scroll down a bit)  about how we might be helped to cope when our willpower tank is running on empty.  Psychologists in Aberdeen stuck signs in coffee shops giving calorie counts for different food choices. These are organised from the lowest calorie options on the left to the highest calorie ones on the right.  Next to it is a little note saying that if you want to eat fewer calories then you might want to think about picking something from the left hand side. A little reminder, a helping hand. Not a fact, not a lecture, just a little helpful reminder - a nudge. They picked left to right as apparently we have a small bias to things we see on our left so pay attention to the left (hmm I wonder if that works if your writing goes the other way...).

Anyway, sales of high calorie foods dropped and sales of about half (not all) of the low calorie foods increased. There was a shift from high calorie to low calorie options - a black coffee instead of that latte. And even more interestingly, when they asked customers what they thought, the ones who scored lowest on will power were more likely to change what they bought and many went for the lower calorie option. Hurray! A win for us, a win for researchers and a blow to obesity!

But never, ever underestimate the ability of us humans to do the unexpected.  The researchers found that some people just swopped one high calorie option for another. Instead of having that latte they had 3 chocolate bars - the same number of calories, the same unhealthy options.  They were all women. They were probably calorie counting and this was their treat. I think that's fair enough.

There's no doubt that with our busy lives, worry and stress pull us in a whole load of directions. In winter it can all be a little bit harder.  There's a lot of reasons given for the rise in obesity and I do wonder if our busy lives, lack of time and our many responsibilities drain our will power even more than in the past. Plus we have more temptations and choices and it's all too easy to go for the comforting treat. I don't think we suddenly have more lazy people in the world; none of the overweight people I know could be ever be seen as lazy. Busy? Juggling like mad? Yes! Lazy? Definitely not.

I know my will power varies a lot and not always predictably. A run can fire me up making me feel strong and healthy and I really (really) don't want to eat chocolate. But the next run really deserves that cake! An extra pound on the scales can set me back on track with vigour or send me straight to  the biscuit tin with depression.  I know when I was caring for Mum on top of a busy job I couldn't resist the chocolate treats I bought her to encourage her to eat something.

So if the researchers can come up with something that helps us remember that we do have a choice and makes us think for just a moment, then I think that's brilliant. A little note so we think twice before reaching for that bun when we're on autopilot and making lists about lists in our heads. It's not a nag. It's not a lecture. It's a helpful reminder for busy people with busy lives.

Talking of which, I've had another reminder this week. I've been in serious running mode. Despite the weather, I've wanted to run every day and do hills and tempo runs and just run and run. But on Wednesday I got a twinge in the area of my calf where I had an injury. So I've made myself do an easy run and take 2 rest days, even though the sun's been shining and I could have run (grrr).  Half of me feels like a sulky teenager, the other half feels strong and sensible.  I still did 4 runs, 25 plus miles. I feel good!

The Chi running is really helping me in so many ways, including my tendency to over do things. I wonder if it can help me sort out my tendency to overeat!


Hope you've had a good week. Take care

Suex

Mastery, or why we run in the wind and rain!

Yes, it's that time of year again. Temperatures plummet, winds blow, rain storms and yet we still lace on the trainers and head out to run. We begin to wonder if we are mad.

Why do we do it?  What gets us out of bed and running at 5am in the wind and rain?  Why do we juggle like mad to make time for that run? What on earth drives that kind of compulsion? Yes it's autumn and we face months of running in the dark.

I still can't explain why some mornings I leap out of bed eager to run even though it's blowing a gale out there and the next day it's hard work to even open my eyes.  My motivation to run is quite resilient; it can survive all sorts of weather, niggles and pains, busy-ness, even abject failure and exhaustion.  And then on that lovely sunny day, with a breath of wind to cool the glowing brow and with no pressing engagements blocking that lovely long run on the beach, my mojo takes off and runs screaming for the hills. As I watch the fleeting shadow fade into the distance, I tell myself I'm tired or need an extra rest day, but the truth is, my mojo has deserted me. Mercurial and magical it has buggered off. Luckily it's back again after the first mile or so running back and forth, urging me to follow like one of those bonkers dogs on the beach.

I've been reading a book by Dan Pink, an American psychologist who's got some very interesting stuff to say on all this.  Pink says that the more we feel in control, the better we perform in the long run. What sets us on fire Pink says, is being able to make choices about what we do, with whom and how we do it; and that we get a massive boost from mastering a skill or completing a task or gaining knowledge and having a purpose. Now he might be talking about the workplace, but I'm just as much a human being at home so I reckon the same rules apply (why do so many people assume that being a worker and being a human are not the same thing!!!).

What makes it all great is that we're out there running because we choose to.  Nobody makes us, it's me that gets me out the door at 5am. I choose my goal. I choose my training plan. I choose my challenges.  Over time as we learn we begin to hone our skills and technique; we get better and wiser as we learn our craft.  Running brings many joys, but the thrill of mastering our craft, becoming a better runner is where the magic lives.  Can I get below 25m for that 5k? Just how long can I keep going at tempo pace? Could I really run a marathon? Our urge to run better, faster, longer transforms us as people and changes our lives profoundly and forever. We become better stronger human beings.

That urge is visible from the earliest days.  Watch a young children learning to stand, walk or read is to watch mastery in one of its purest forms.  It is pure magic. Those tiny humans keep going until they get there. They fall over, they get up and try again, they are not deterred. The look on the face of a child as it stands for the first time or takes a first step says it all:  I did that - me!  Mastery, that sense of accomplishment, the glory of achievement.  Many of the best things in life take hard work, discipline, failure, focus and perseverance.  It's a journey to a perfection we never reach, but that perversely is  what gives us reward and keeps us going that extra mile, pushes on to the next goal.

I've certainly been feeling that thrill this week. I've done another tempo run; but this week a little bit faster. Although I was tired when I stopped, my muscles told me I'd found my lactic threshold; it's amazing that that extra .5 kph had on my legs! That's a new boundary to push.  My long run was a bit longer than last week, but more important, it felt much easier despite a rather brisk wind. I could have run a few miles more and I'm sure that's the tempo runs kicking in.  A speed interval session (great spiky Garmin heart chart!) and a recovery run took me over 22 miles again.

Whatever you're up to, have a great week. Whether you run, swim, play the bagpipes; whatever your personal goals and challenges, may you find new strengths within you, master new skills and find great joy in your accomplishments.

Take care

Suex

right brain running

I'm not really one for planning and preparing.  I don't read instructions before playing with a new toy or gadget. In those away days we used to have, I was the one who just wanted to get on with it and work out what to do as we went along.  I've never had a career plan, I just went for interesting jobs in places I wanted to live. I follow the road less travelled and I can't resist taking a peek at what's over that hill or round the corner.  In my book, life is an adventure, you never know what's coming up, so what's to plan for? Life is to be lived on a wing and a hunch.

And then I took up running.

I started running in the same way I take on anything new in life, I just did it and then worked out what I was up to.  Every Friday when I was working from home to do Mum stuff, I'd go out for a run. I ran for as long and as far and as fast as it felt good.  Gradually I went longer, faster and farther. I added a hill or two. I simply went with how my body felt and soon I was doing 6/7 miles quite happily, running 10 or 15 minutes longer without clock watching. Then I started running twice a week and started pushing my distance ready for my first half marathon. I cross trained, ran when I felt like it and hadn't even heard of tempo runs. So far, so happy; free running, hippy hoppy bunny.

And then I decided to do a marathon. I started reading about training plans and pace and intervals and all the rest of it. I stopped doing what felt right, I stopped trusting my instinct and my body. I started following plans and schedules, my head took control, pushed my body beyond its limits, and as you know, it ended in tears.

This year has been about re building myself as a runner; using Chi Running to improve my technique, manage my need for speed and taking a mindful approach.   I've had no other running goal and have simply allowed myself to evolve and unfold through my running.   And it's working really well, I've never been happier or run better.

Out on my long run today I had a breakthrough. I was idly thinking about my runs this week, when I realised I was doing something really important, I was starting to reflect on my running.  I realised that this week, without planning it, I'd done an unintended tempo run. I found the faster pace quite a challenge but it felt good and I was much faster the next day. I was surprised how long I could run at that speed. More importantly, I'd caught my mind telling me to stop well before my legs were done.  I ignored my head and ran a bit further and got another 10 minutes at tempo. I could have done more, but part of the discipline is to know when to stop.

Next I realised I was in the middle of my longest run since my injury and again, without planning it, I was running at long run pace. It was a very different experience of running than I was used to.  As I trotted on, I began to understand why the long run has to be done slowly. How else are you going to know what it feels like to run for ages and get the mental stamina to keep going? The slow run meant I could run longer and it gave me very useful feedback on how my body was responding. I have some corrections to make.

I've made a commitment to regular sports massages as a way to avoid injuries and to keep track on how my body is working. I had a great sports massage from Lizelle at Physio Plus in North Berwick, the people who got me back on my feet after Christmas.  The combination of me telling her what I've noticed when I run and her massage skills and expert knowledge are helping me understand what's going on under the skin and helping me nip things in the bud. Don't laugh, but my sartorial muscle is playing up!

Gradually, my mind and body are getting in touch with each other and talking the same language, what I need to do is to keep reflecting, keep learning, give my head chance to catch up with my body.

I think the message is that my legs are ready to rock. It's time to start thinking about a challenge. Time to start pushing my boundaries a bit. Time to think about that marathon.  Time to contact my Chi Running teacher, Nick.

So a very rewarding running week. Four runs. 23 Miles. My longest long run and my first tempo since the injury. Yay!

Hope you've had a good week and that the week to come is all you want it to be.

Take care,

Suex

Farewell my furry friend

My heart is broken. One half of the pussycat mafia that runs our house is no more. Cute Bute has gone to the great big soft cushion in the sky and we're missing her. Who'd have thought that such a small bundle of black and white fur would leave such an enormous space?

I know at over 17 years old, Bute had a long and very happy life.  Bute's idea of bliss was to sit or lie in the sun until she could barely move or to sit on Ali's lap until his legs went numb.  She was one of the sweetest cats you could ever meet, a real little lady with the cutest face and an endearing manner.

Originally from the Isle of Bute, Bute and her brother Kyle were rescue cats, brought home from a day trip to Rothesay in a cardboard vodka box. They were tiny, fitting into the palm of my hand, purring away.  They spent almost their whole lives together, inseperable, but not always friends. One memorable time they were sitting by the open bathroom window. I heard a squeak; turned round to see Kyle had shoved her out the window. Luckily she was only one floor up and over a flower bed. Bute came in through that cat flap like a cat out of hell and sulked. Bute's sulks were profound but short lived.

The pussies settled into Stirling and even from her earliest days, Bute was tidy and neat. She got cleanliness and litter trays from the first time she saw them and always kept her long haired, silky coat pristine. Very rarely did Bute look less than immaculate, always photogenic; an Audrey Hepburn of a cat.

Timid and perpetually scared by anything new or unexpected, Bute spent a lot of her early years behind the settee or under the bedclothes, only venturing out when she knew I was alone. Her first time outdoors was memorable. Whilst her brother went charging off to explore the new world, Bute trod carefully, lifting each paw high into the air, trying to make sense of the springy grass. When a puff of wind blew, Bute jumped sky high; she always did have a good startle reflex that lasted her whole life.

Visitors frightened Bute, and not many people got to know her more than in retreat, sneaking out a door or under a chair; a tail disappearing through a doorway. For a lot of the time, Bute was just a lump under the bedclothes, where she felt invisible and safe.  I always wondered what had happened to make her like that.  But  Bute loved Ali and Ben, she knew when they were about she was safe. Sitting on their laps was like a throne for Bute and she sat there and ruled the roost. A floozie, through and through.

In North Berwick Bute spent a lot of time on the windowsill soaking up the heat of the radiator or sun depending on the time of the year. She and Kyle were often to be found flat out in the sunshine in the conservatory, staggering into the shade like holiday makers on a Mediterranean beach. Bute's little face at the front window was a welcoming sight to see after a long hard day at work - she always looked like she was posing for a feline version of Vogue.

Bute loved broccoli, porridge, yogurt and of course tuna. For most of her life she didn't miaow, she gave a little 'eek'. It was only in her later years when she got a thyroid tumour that Bute began to sound like a normal cat. For her tiny size, she could let her views be known very forcibly indeed. As she got older, her hips went, but she could still spring into the air to sit on Ali's knee; right up to the end she was up for her cuddle.

Who would think that one small bundle of fur could leave such a hole in our hearts and so many happy memories? But that's what happens when a pussycat steals your heart.

I did a run for Bute yesterday. A lovely sunny early run up to WhiteCraigs and back.  I cried a bit, I smiled a lot and I came to terms a little bit with things. When I came home, I was a bit further along my journey too.

Farewell Bute my little furry pal. Rest in peace.



Suex

New dawns and old habits

One of my lovely Twitter chums, John, was reflecting on how good it felt to get back into his routine after watching the Olympics; how he's a creature of habit, happier when things are normal. I know exactly what he means.

After the roller coaster of the last few weeks, we too are enjoying life at a calmer pace this week, having a bit of a breather and a very much appreciated one at that. There's something soothing and relaxing when life goes to plan and things are sort of predictable. We get up at and go to bed at regular times, sleep better and feel more rested. We eat regular meals made of good healthy things we want to eat that keep us fit and slim and our bodies balanced.  Chores, treats and runs can be planned and balanced. Even the thought of planning and predictability soothes the mind and calms the nerves.  You could almost believe there is order and predictability in  the world!

So whilst I have almost literally been running for my life the last few weeks, this breather has given me the chance to stop and reflect. As I looked up and took a metaphorical deep breath I realised that things have changed. I have a new routine. And it feels good.

To get through the days, I've been running more in the early mornings.  I was waking early and worrying or writing lists of things to do in my head.  It started as a 'why not run rather than lie and worry' run and ended up as 'run to start the day with a physical and psychological burst of all that is great about being alive'; living each day as a personal best.

I love the early morning when the world is in bed and I own the beach. Every run is different and special. And I know that the dawn chorus of Twitter runners are out there too. It's a great feeling that I'm out with my virtual family, my ain running folk all of us relishing the sun rising on our running.

At first I worried that I wasn't fitting in a long run, I've just not had a chunk of time to fit it in. But at the same time, I'm running more often,  and there's more than one way to eat a potato (my new cat friendly alternative phrase given the feline fun we've been having). On Friday I was working at home so I allowed myself a 5 mile instead of a 3 mile run. Voila! I increased my weekly mileage easily with 5 or 10 minutes added here and there. If I can't do longer I'll just do faster or hillier. What's great is the extra run is giving me a bit more flexibility.

I am dead chuffed. If I'd tried to squeeze an extra run into my routine when things were ticking along nicely, I'd have struggled. But along came a whole train load of crises to kickstart me into a new regime,  opening up new possibilities and the dawn of a new routine.

Whoever said that you should never waste a good crisis hit the nail on the head. Crisis, mayhem and chaos mean you have to do things differently and come out of your old routine and embrace the new order.  Suddenly, like it or not, you have to be open to new ideas and new ways of doing things, you have to adapt or go under.  It's a turbo charged spring cleaning opportunity to cut out the stuff that holds you back and needs to change.

So I managed four runs this week, 16 and a bit miles.  Two 30 minute-ers and two 5 milers, all but one in the early morning before breakfast. The 5 milers were the fastest runs, I think that might be the Innov-8s which are really superb to run in. I also a nice long walk with Ali today up to Dirleton for a lovely lunch at the Dirleton Gallery coffee shop - very well earnt.

The Edinburgh Festival finishes tomorrow. This year we managed to see 4 great shows, a personal best and a sign that we're getting a bit more balance in our lives.  Playing Politics, Suggs, Sandi Toksvig and Paul Merton and his improv chums really hit the spot when we needed something to laugh at. Next year we plan to do a few more shows.

So that's it for another week. We're all still here. Vile Kyle (black cat) has made yet another death defying recovery and is eating up the world's tuna stocks. His sister,  Cute Bute, is not quite as jolly; her turn for the vets tomorrow. Age does not come alone and I know that the outcome is inevitable, but every day extra is precious.

Wherever you are, whether you're mid crisis or in a nice comfy routine, keep well, keep happy, run strong.

Take care

Suex

Running from the heart

There are times when running is not about speed, distance, time, pace, intervals or even calories.

There are times when running is not about calves, quads or glutes.
There are times when running is only about one thing: being alive.
That's when you exercise the most important running muscle of all - when you run from from the heart.


The middle years of life are not what I'd expected. I'm much busier and I have more responsibilities than I'd expected, but that's fine, who wants to lie in til lunchtime anyway!  What makes the middle years a weird experience is that you're youthful and old at exactly the same time, equidistant between the cradle and the grave and both can seem equally clear at times. In the middle years, you're acutely aware that life is brief and precious and to be made the very most of. I understand the urge behind those mid life crises - do it now before you get too old!

Never have I felt this as much as I have this week. It's been a week of hospitals, surgeries and the vets as various two legged and four legged family members fell over (me and Mum); got scanned and screened (me) and helped through their final days (my pussycat Kyle).

We're all still here and in one piece, at least for now, but it's been hard going facing certain and uncertain doom. As well as the love of a truly good man, family and friends, the one big thing that's kept me going has been my running.

I've run almost every morning this week; early, before the day gets going and people start coming to the beach.  I've been waking very early and as the worry-worms began to invade my sleep-addled head something instinctive kicked in and I knew in my very core that I had to run. And not just any run, anywhere,  I had to run on the beach. Nothing else would work, nothing else would get through the day.

Most days, the mornings have seen a thick white mist, barely able to see my feet never mind what lay ahead.  Ghostly, mysterious, still mists that hang round the ragged rocks. Spiders' webs heavy with misty droplets, marine grass beaded with diamonds. Not thinking, just running; driven by instinct and the knowledge we hold deep in our bodies that knows what we need to do to get through.

Every morning as I ran, I began to feel strong, healthy, connected to the earth. My strong legs carried me firmly and confidently over the rocks, tip toeing between stranded jellyfish, splashing in the salty puddles of the departing tide, full of life. My arms powered like pistons, pivoted from the elbows.   My head lifted, my body straightened, my brain switched to 'I can'. As I run, I am strong. I am me.  I can do this. I smile at the passing heron and the startled curlews.

I trot back up to the house feeling normal, with a clear head and a light heart.  I knew that whatever the day throws at me now and whatever comes next, I will be fine because I am strong, I am a runner and runners keep on 'til the end one way or another.

On Friday morning when the worst was over, I ran in celebration.  The rain poured, the wind pushed and shoved and tried to send me home. But I ran. I took off the trainers and ran barefoot on the beach until I was drenched and my calves began to protest. It was blissful to be alive and healthy.

 I  forget about the science, the physical and biological things I usually focus on when I'm running. Maybe I ran out of an ancient human instinct to run from what we're frightened of, I was definitely scared and if I could have run away I would have. Instead I ran the demons out of my head and came home strong, powerful and ready to face whatever came my way.

Today Ali and I went for a long walk together from North Berwick to Gullane. The beach was very different today; sunny, warm, busy with children and dogs. We felt alive, youthful and happy, glad we made it through in one piece, glad we have each other.  As I type, dear old Kyle is curled up on the floor at my feet. His running days are over, he can barely walk a few steps now, but he has a warm soft bed, tuna on tap and lots of love.

I did about 10 miles running this week; one a barefoot 3 mile session.  My long run was a 6 mile walk to Gullane. I  went barefoot almost all the way and I practiced my Chi Walking.  I'm going to have a think about what running I want to do next week, but I won't plan too much as things still feel fluid. For now, my feet will follow my heart ands all will be well.

Have a good week, whatever comes your way I wish you health and happiness.

Take care

Sue