Got to Run Mum

The Body I Own. I have been bitten, caught the bug. I am now one of those annoying people on your facebook and twitter feeds that posts sweat-soaked selfies and gloat about miles ran before you bothered to get out of bed. I am just a little smug. That'll be the endorphins. I've embraced the world of fitness, of healthy eating, of HIIT, of chia seeds and quinoa (pronounced keen-wa, thank you Google!), of obstacle racing and marathon training and seeking out thrills to test the limits of my body. What a twat, I hear you say. Who cares that I hit a sub 30 5k (eh?!) and it made me fist-pump whilst out on the streets of Feltham. I'm currently loving my new found passion for fitness and relishing the appreciation it's given me for my body. The only one I have. The body that gave me two beautiful children and has seen me through a marathon and more. I apologise that my recent joy for healthy living may irk you somewhat, but I can't promise you it'll end any time

I go into 2016 with mixed feelings. The beginning of a new year usually comes with promises to improve, to better oneself, to let go of the things that held us back before. The thing is, I am pretty ok with me. I began a journey when my daughter received her cancer diagnosis. A journey towards being a better person. Seeing the positive. And life got better- she got better for starters. I launched a business that I love and put my heart and soul (and a lot of money) into it. I set myself challenges I only dreamt of before. Took up running, entered a lot of races and raised a lot of money for charity. All ticks in my book of living a better life. Only, not everyone came on that journey with me. I shrugged off negativity and with that failed to spot the warning signs that were screaming out to me. That my husband, the other half of me, was hurting, was somehow damaged. Couldn't just 'fix' himself. And he sank further and further into his own hell, with me smiling beside him.