Two years and more have passed since Tom was awarded his PhD, so when his degree ceremony is finally able to take place, it’s a poignant reminder that during the months when our lives were on hold, time did not stand still. Besides me, Tom had chosen our surviving parents to be his guests, but his dad, Ken, is no longer with us, so my stepson - Tom’s younger son - is here in his place and to pick up the lost threads. Lockdown wasn’t kind to either of our parents; it’s my 88-year-old Ma’s first outing in a large crowd and although she’s bursting with pride for Tom and relishing all the people-watching, she’s struggling with physical challenges. Ma, once a head-turning, tall, redhead is severely afflicted by osteoporosis and scoliosis; every step she takes is slow and careful and she’s now so small that whenever we have to move, I have to protect her from all the flying elbows and swinging handbags which threaten to knock her off her feet. Once seated, we can relax and enjoy the occasi
Despite my firm belief that running doesn’t have to hurt, I admit that there have been a couple of half marathons when I’ve emptied the tank to the point of feeling sick. I was forced to withdraw from my last Llanelli half marathon with a knee injury. And this year, illness - three weeks of vertigo and sinusitis, then a pulled back muscle - has thrown my training plans into disarray. So, as Tom drops me off for the return of Cardiff Half Marathon, deferred from 2020, I have one aim only; to enjoy every moment of this wonderful occasion. I’m not setting a pace, I don’t have a finish time in mind, I’d simply like to get round and soak up the wonderful atmosphere along the way. It’s a bright but very chilly morning. I walk through the castle grounds and I’m delighted to catch up with the She Runs Cardiff runners and speak to friends there. I meet my dear running buddy Helen and we head to our starting pen where we are amused to be complimented by a young man for still running at our gre