From the River Valley to the Sea

‘Fancy a pint?’ Helen asks, naughtily, making me laugh. For a moment I’m almost tempted, even though it’s only a little after 10.30 a.m. We’re sitting near the bar at Lampeter Rugby Club waiting for the start of the Teifi 10 Mile Road Race, organised by Clwb Sarn Helen running club and the nerves are beginning to kick in. I’m one of the few non-affiliated runners and, for all my race experience, I’m a little daunted by all the serious runners and club vests. It’s also clear that almost everyone else is younger than us. There are only 13 runners my age or older in a field of 129!

At 11 a.m. we set off on what turns out to be a day of record Easter temperatures in West Wales, but I quickly realise that I won’t be breaking any records in the boiling sunshine. The course takes a very beautiful, scenic route climbing up along the Teifi river valley before winding back down to Lampeter. I decide to take my own advice and be kind to myself. Today’s not the day to go crazy! I run when I can, walk when I have to, take on plenty of water (huge thanks to everyone at the very well-organised water stations) and enjoy the view.

At mile 7, I catch up with Helen. We’re jogging along when Tom, who’s been out on his bike, cycles up to us and we stop to compare notes for a few minutes. Helen sets off and arrives at the finish just ahead of me and I come in at 114 out of 126 runners. It wasn’t my fastest or prettiest race, but, hey, I’m thrilled to have got round!

The next day, Tom and I set off for our first proper sail of the season, ‘at least you’ll be able to sit down,’ Tom reasons, when I’m moaning about how tired I am. The conditions are perfect for a good sail down Milford Haven, but, by the time we anchor, the wind has picked up and there’s a wallowing, rolly sea. I eat half a sandwich very, very slowly and spend the rest of the time whilst we’re waiting for the tide to turn staring at the horizon trying not to be sick. Once we’re underway again, I’m fine! The tide sweeps us back to Neyland and by the time we've put the boat to bed, I’m ravenous.

We pull in at Maccy Ds, something we almost never do, where I fall on my burger like a starved wolf. Heads down, feeling somewhat bedraggled and weary from a long day, Tom and I are concentrating on our food, when the dad from the little family near us wanders over and places something on our table. ‘There you go,’ he says. ‘Token for two free doughnuts.’ It’s a very kind gesture … although it leaves me wondering about what kind of signals we’re giving out!

And finally… it’s a week today since Running Kind was released. Thank you so much to all of you who’ve downloaded it… and if you haven’t and would like to… here’s the link.

"Christine Stovell didn’t think she was the running kind. Running, she believed, was for elite athletes and hardcore fitness freaks. Then, after causing a local scandal, she found herself hiding in her parents’ loft with her two young daughters and decided to try running as a means of escape. That attempt ended so painfully it was four years before she felt brave enough to try another run.

Christine's story takes her from running scared to running half marathons. In twenty years, she’s run through sad, bad and good times and dealt with everything from territorial pheasants to scary loos. Above all, she’s discovered not only that running doesn’t have to hurt, but that it has a great capacity to heal.

If you’ve ever been tempted to try running but think it isn’t for you, Christine’s experience might just convince you that you too can become the running kind."

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Blended families come with conflicting loyalties and at Christmas time nearly everyone has somewhere else they feel they ought to be. Throw partners into the equation and it gets even more complicated. Since Tom and I aren’t especially hung up about Christmas we’re happy to let our children go with the strongest flow, but I have to say it was a great delight to have the girls and their partners staying with us this year. When such moments are few and far between they become very precious. My stepsons weren’t far from our thoughts either, not least because we had the very happy news on Christmas Day that my elder stepson and his girlfriend had become engaged. Congratulations Dan and Gill, here’s wishing you every happiness together. Tom and I end a year that has seen the fruition of many years work, both of us crossing important thresholds within weeks of each other. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Turning the Tide published next year and it’s been so satisfying, after al

Reconnecting

I hadn't realised it until now , but it’s probably no coincidence that my last post was about our trip to Norwich, a city I’ve loved since studying at UEA. I wrote, then, that coming home was a hard landing, a feeling that took me completely by surprise as it’s been such a privilege to live in this beautiful, remote spot on the very edge of the west Wales coast. A trip to Skye at the end of October - Tom’s choice - with Ma, was a truly lovely holiday. The weather was kind, the colours of those breathtaking seascapes will stay with me, as will all the happy memories we made that week. And, because our small cottage had been so beautifully modernised and worked so well for the three of us, it was easy to imagine what it might be like to live somewhere different. If travel doesn’t broaden the mind, it certainly brings a new perspective. By the end of the year, Tom and I had decided that it was time for a change, time to move closer to a town (we are neither of us, as they say, getting

Fly Free, Dottie Do

‘How many days to my birthday?’ Ma asks. I do a quick calculation. ‘Eighteen,’ I reply. ‘Eighteen days until your ninetieth birthday.’ Ma pulls a face and shakes her head. Every sentence is hard work for her now, when each breath is a struggle. ‘You’ll have to write a book about this, you know,’ she says, with one of her quick, mischievous smiles. ‘“Carry On Dying”. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry.’ The smile fades. ‘Who knew,’ she adds wearily, ‘that dying would be such a palaver?’ It’s only eleven days since Ma was diagnosed with a high-grade, aggressive lymphoma, four days since she was overwhelmed with pain and breathing difficulties and was admitted as an emergency to hospital. Until a few weeks ago, she lived completely independently; shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending her much-loved garden. The deterioration in her health is shockingly rapid. The eight days preceding her death are a living hell, a constant battle with the ward staff to get Ma the pain relief she’s been presc

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