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

Olympic reflections

Wow, what an Olympics! I don't think I've ever enjoyed the Olympics as much as this year. It doesn't seem any time since that amazing opening ceremony and now it's all but over. The last pair of trainers will soon be hung up, kit stashed into the washing machine, bike spokes straightened out and things will get back to normal.

It's been as inspiring and exciting and wonderful as anyone could have hoped. Our athletes have given their all. Some have come out shining and victorious; others faced bitter disappointment and injury. But they have all made us feel very proud to be a human being, and in particular to be a human that runs a bit.

What courtesy, sports-personship, courage and commitment.  These guys aren't just great at sport, they are great at being human beings. We've got closer to the athletes than ever before and had an insight into just how hard they work to make it happen. As Mo Farah said after his double gold victory 'It's all hard work. It's been a long journey, grafting and grafting'.  There's an interesting article on this in Danny Drey's Chi Running blog on race specific training as done by Mo. This is the first time I've thought of our Olympians as human beings like us.  Usain Bolt's quote this morning about needing to find his motivation for what happens next shows that even legends need to fire themselves up sometimes.

I've also really enjoyed the little snippets of running science from Colin Jackson. Hopefully we're enthusing and inspiring a whole new generation of scientists and great coaches as well as athletes. We're now much more aware of the contribution that sports  science, psychology and coaching make to being a success. If you want to hear some great science on this, have a listen to The Naked Scientists podcast. My favourite bit is Sir Steven Redgrave saying that it was his mental attitude that got him his success. And of course we saw the teams of people that support them every step of the way. I never realised just how many folk are involved in creating champions; even the long distance runner isn't as lonely as she used to be. But that's great - how many things in life do we go through alone anyway?

This is also the first time I've watched the Olympics since I started running properly (well, maybe improperly!). I now have concepts like 'running form' and 'interval training' in my shiny new vocabulary. As I progress on my running journey, I've been watching the best runners in the world, looking at what great running looks like; trying to absorb learning through the TV screen.

I never used to think about how I ran until I got injured and got into Chi Running.   In Chi Running there's a lot of emphasis on maintaining your running form and alignment as you push your speed or distance boundaries. When I got my training from Nick, Soul in Motion, he placed a lot of focus on the need for me to work to gradually extend how far and fast I can run without losing my form.

There were races when you could see an athlete's form disintegrate as they reached their limits and their performance visibly dropped.  All of these top level athletes run at a fast cadence, they lift their heels high and their posture is usually great. Most of them use their arms to power them though I saw some messy arm movements. One look at those abs and arm muscles and you can see that they run with their whole body.

The very very best runners are wonderful to watch. They have a compact energy and fluidity of movement that is absolute poetry in motion and totally gripping. Mo Farah, Usain Bolt, the US women's 4x4 100m relay,  David Rudisha and Tirunesh Dibada have been particular favourites of mine. They run with a wonderful combination of power and beauty that is mesmerising; they make running look effortless. I hold those pictures in my mind hopping some of it will stick and transfer by osmosis to me too - well a girl can dream!

It's certainly been inspiring a lot of folk to get out and about.  I've never seen so many runners, cyclists, walkers, surfers and dog walkers out and about. People are turning up at work on bicycles from a bygone age. This is definitely the time to buy shares in bicycle shops - or maybe tyre repair kits.

What an amazing few weeks, what inspiration, what wonder. And next the Paralympics with more tales of courage, bravery and outstanding athletes. Then the Commonwealth games. Bring it on! I really really wish there was an Olympics for people of a certain age; a senior Olympics, especially for those of us who have blossomed in our later years. We need to inspire everyone to a healthy and active second half of live, not just the first thirty or so years.

I've had a great running week - 4 runs coming to 17.5 miles in total. A mix of one long run, a speed interval session and two runs just because I can.  My mid week very early beach run was blissful,  pure North Berwick gold; a run that will stay with me forever. The yoga and pilates have been a bit hard whilst my poorly paw heals, but I've been stretching hard to keep things working as they should do.

Have a great week, keep safe, keep well.

Take care

Suex

Tripping the light fantastic: Revenge of the Hills part 2

Oh oh, Sue's in the wars again!

On Friday night after work I headed down to Holyrood for the technical rehearsal of the NVA speed of light. It was really exciting watching the lyrca-clad ones marching purposefully towards the small village of tents on the parade ground. I've lost track of the number of times I've headed to this patch of grass for some event or another over the past 20 odd years.

We all sat round in a massive marquee. My group (white) was really great; lovely people with lots of energy and very friendly and chatty.  I was a mix of awe-struck and horrified by some of the ultra hill runner guys, but I'd done the rehearsal and training so I wasn't too worried; this wasn't being done at race pace! What made it even more special was that I knew one of the run leaders - the lovely Sarah who used to teach aqua aerobics at virgin omni.

After a pep talk from Angus, we changed into our light suits and headed off onto the hill, the air thick with the smell of manure and midges. Unlike the last time I did an NVA session, we took the low route up, between the Crags and Arthur's Seat. My group was doing a mid level path on the other side.  'No worries' I thought, 'nice dry path, no slippy grass - result!'.  Does that count as pride? Smug definitely, but pride? Well maybe given it definitely preceded my fall.

We'd run a few yards and were heading back down the incline at a gentle trot.  I was looking around thinking what a glorious night it was and how lucky I was to be able to run, when suddenly I was hurtling face first towards the path. It was a classic time-slowing-down moment. I could see the path getting closer, I can still see every pebble and every rock in my mind's eye. I thought I'd manage not to fall, I thought I'd get upright, but I fell, and with quite a thump. There I was splayed out like the chalk figure at a crime scene.

I picked myself up; I could walk; nothing too horrendous I could see.  Phew! I managed to jog down to the very calm and reassuring Medic Dave who regularly medics at running events and does Mountain Rescue. I was in safe hands.  I'd got a bashed cheek bone; a banged up knee, ripped leggings and a pretty deep cut on my hand where I'd landed on a sharp stone.  Oh bugger.

I felt ok and wanted to carry on with the run, but Medic Dave thought I might have some gravel embedded in my hand so packed me off to A&E. I felt fine to finish off the run but having been brought up by a nurse, I tend to obey medics. I'm glad I did, I think I was probably a bit shocked at the fall and I may well have had another fall when the adrenaline wore off and I might not been as lucky that time.

The next day I was glad I hadn't run on. My knee was really sore and swollen and I hurt in all sorts of places I hadn't noticed before. I slept for hours that afternoon, but I think that might have been the tetanus jag.  It wasn't too bad really. If I was going to pick a day to collapse in front of the the Tv, I couldn't have done better could I? Olympic golds non stop all day. Brilliant.

The biggest wound is to my pride. I was running on a path, in daylight, somewhere I've run before, not going fast and I took a skite.  But yet again, I met my nemesis on a hill. Hills are beginning to spell trouble for me - even the flat bits!

At least I came off as walking wounded (yes they do use that term!); and I have to say NVA had everything handled beautifully. I tested their safety procedures and I was very well looked after; it all went without a hitch.  I hope I was and am the only injury they have to deal with - then I wouldn't mind feeling a bit silly.

But what about going back up that hill for the main event later this month?  My confidence is a bit jangled and I have this sense that if I do the run I'll be pushing my luck.  It's good to get your confidence back, but is running on the hill in the dark the best way to do it? I'm not sure and my instincts are being pretty clear about what they think I should do. Maybe I should compromise and be a walk leader or support some of the wheelchair runners - but maybe that'd be placing others at risk!

I managed three other runs this week without taking a tumble. Short 30 minute-ers (I was saving my legs for the hill!). I did two on the beach (including some rock scrambling so I could practice rough terrain - humph!); one on the treadmill. All done without falling over.

Off back to watch the Olympics. As I type Murray is playing Federer but if I watch he starts losing points, so I'm doing this. What a week eh?

Whatever you're up to, keep safe, run strong.

Take care

Suex

Inspiring People

This week has been one of the most inspirational weeks of my entire life.  With the start of one of the greatest displays of feats of human endeavour on the planet - the Olympics - inspiration is coming thick and fast and I'm feeling almost drunk with it all!

On Wednesday I went to Milton Keynes for a Tesco Diets success story photo session. As I walked in the door, Julie and Claire told me that that morning I was going to meet Dame Kelly Holmes.  My jaw dropped, my brain went numb, Dame Kelly Holmes? There? In Milton Keynes? That morning? To meet us? Surely not! It takes a lot to shut me up, but I was gobsmacked.

But it was indeed true. Dame Kelly had come to meet us; celebrate our achievements; have photos taken and do a spot of Q&A. We sat spell bound as she talked us through how she trained, how she prepared, how she got through hard times and got those two gold medals. It was totally awesome and inspirational and I had to keep pinching myself, I was sitting next to an Olympic double gold medal runner!

This is nothing about being star struck or impressed by celebrity,  I'm really too long in the tooth for that sort of thing. No, this was one of those moments when you meet another human being who has done something remarkable. When faced with adversity and challenge, they fight back and overcome. They make things happen. They build on what they have survived to make them stronger, better human beings. They work to make the world better for others.

Dame Kelly Holmes has been an inspiration in our family and she is to many people; not just runners and not just those of us who have had an injury. She never gave up on her goal, she gave 100%. She made it.

I was also inspired by the lovely TescoDiet ladies and gent I was with that day too. Every one of them had lost a shed load of weight and transformed their lives in the process. They too had set their goals and given it their all and every one of them was inspiring and encouraging others that they too could change their lives.   Those folk are living proof that things can change and that every one of us can do our bit to change our lives and help others too.

It doesn't matter if your goal is a park run or a marathon; to lose three pounds or three stone; to raise a happy child or be a great aunty.  Sometimes, the hardest thing of all is to put on a smile when you're in bits or just get out of bed in the morning. A goal doesn't have to be two gold medals. It just has to mean something important to you.

We humans are truly remarkable when we set our sights on something and go for it, and as I headed home from a far too hot, sweaty (and smoky) Luton Airport, I had lots of food for thought.

Without a goal in life, it is easy to drift, it's far too easy to waste our potential. A goal pulls it all together and points head, heart and spirit in the same direction. With focus and purpose, we begin to change our worlds and we help others change theirs too. Magic happens.

The Olympics inspire us all, and I loved the way they emphasised that these games are also for the gold medal winners of the future. But why should these dreams only be for the young? Sadly there's no Olympic dream for those of us who are a bit past our prime, but wouldn't it be wonderful if there was? Wouldn't it be wonderful to see healthy, active, competing older people; what an inspiration that would be!

These Olympic rings are from the residential home where my Mum lives - they've been talking about the Olympics for weeks and armchair swimming is on the agenda. How lovely to be connected, to feel part of it.

I certainly have been inspired to take up running in the second half of my life by men and women like  Fauja Singh. They've proved that we don't have to stop running just because of what's on our birth certificate. Helen Mirren showed me that I can have great muscle tone (and abs!) well past the age I'm supposed to not care any more.  Dame Kelly reminded me that if we go for what we want, we can make it happen, even when we think it's all over. But it takes work and it takes planning and it takes discipline.

So, I think it's time to stop drifting and time to decide on some goals. What do I want to achieve with my running? Is it time to think again about the marathon? Is that the right goal for me now? Ever? The key to success is setting the right goal and that takes a bit of thought. I know what can happen if you go for the wrong goal at the wrong time - I don't want another injury. 

For now, time to be inspired by the Olympics and train for Speed of Light. After that I will start working towards my next goal. Watch this space!

Wherever you are, whatever your goal, have a great week and take care.

Suex

You are what you think: mindful reflections on running

You know how the weather's been a bit rubbish this week? Well muggins was out and about, running  through what can only be described as North Berwick's equivalent of a monsoon, heading up a muddy slope, when I realised I was in survival mode.  My teeth were gritted, my smile had become a grimace and my head was down, eyes firmly fixed on the road in front.  Mentally and physically I'd hunkered down. I was doing a run, and that was that.  'That which doesn't kill me makes me stronger' I muttered as I turned into the wind and rain.

As I pulled myself upright physically, I smiled and my spirits lifted too.  How many times has every one of us uttered those words and how true it is that those toughest of times help us grow and strengthen.  Running in the rain is hardly the end of the world or indeed of any note at all really; as our Madeiran walking guide said to us 'it's only water' (what he didn't know was that at that very moment, the Icelandic Volcano was spewing out the ash that meant we came home by boat!).

Another favourite quote is the one from Hilary Clinton - about not wasting a good crisis.  Somehow despite the bad stuff, the seeds of hope and a better future are often closest to us when the going gets tough. And there is something very powerful about getting something good out of the hard stuff in life, it feels like somehow things even out in the end.

As I ran on, I was thinking about the tv programmes about the Olympic greats and all the studies that show that the truth of the Buddhist quote that we are what we think.  I've coped with missing my marathon and my calf injury by seeing my calf as teacher and a guide that will help me on my running journey, wherever that takes me.  I'm still being amazed by how that calf is keeping me right, reminding me that every thought has consequences. In lots of ways, it was my running equivalent of a near death experience - a serious health warning to change my ways or else - and it certainly did the trick. Maybe it's best to say it's still guiding me, there are no guarantees in life I know.

It's helped me re-write my personal rule book.  I used to have a general rule on no stopping until I finished whatever I was up to. I've seen me up ladders trying to stay awake with a paintbrush in my hand at 2am rather than leave a job unfinished. Looking at the wall in the cold light of the next morning, I could see that it hadn't been my best paint job.    From somewhere I managed to develop running rules too, like I have to run non stop, walking not allowed; and  I have to do a long run every week. Keep going 'til you drop might have its moments, but I no longer think it's the right rule to live or run by - the dropping bit can be a bit literal!

My new rules are to listen to my body and obey,  to focus on improving my running form and not to push myself hard on more than one run each week.  If I do a long run, I can't do hills. If I do a speed run, I can't do long distance.   It's strange not to get out for a good long session each week.  But  I've rather enjoyed getting that bit of time back, though I feel a bit guilty saying that.  And I return to my long run with a new vigour and energy and appreciation - absence truly does make the legs grow fonder.

There's another valuable gift that my injury is giving me - I'm learning to be disciplined and take control.  Running, and indeed life in general,  for me can sometimes be like taking a lively and enthusiastic golden retriever for a walk, my thoughts go bounding off dragging me after imaginary rabbits and interesting distractions only coming to rest when exhausted or hungry. So when I hear that little voice saying 'an extra mile? go on, go on!', I have to say 'no'.

So what if I can do 2 more miles, that's not the point, I know I can run further than is good for me. What I need to learn is discipline and control, I have to practice hard on these, it's quite a challenge for an old hippy 'go with the flow' person like me. But the deal is, when I get a better grip on things I can say 'yes' if it's the right thing to do.  They do say willpower and discipline work like a muscle, so f I can extend this discipline to cake and toast, I'm sorted!

My running journey is proof to me that I am what I think. Everyone's journey is different and it's a deeply personal experience that touches the very heart of who we are. That's so clear in the stories of the heroes and sheros we see all around us during this fabulous summer of sport and it makes their achievements even more memorable and awesome.

It's been a good running week for me despite the weather. Heavy spin class, my 5 miles and 5 hills route with my first ever series of hill sprints at the end (I only did 4 sprints, but I get the gist!). Also a fabulous sunny morning, speedy barefoot 3 miles on the beach and a long sunny 7 miler run. Distance and rigour building slowly.

North Berwick is always a beautiful place to run, but in the sun it is truly stunning - as you can see from my mid-run snap.

So onwards and upwards as they say. Raise a glass to our Tour Champion, what a great achievement. Have a great week's running and only 5 more sleeps until the Olympics!!

Take care

Sue