Yep, 3rd day in a row. It’s been a funny old day. I got up feeling positive and quite energetic but my legs were really tight. I’m sure my hamstrings were 2 inches shorter than they were yesterday. We had cereal and fruit for breakfast and did some planning for our Disney trip in September and a bit of tidying up and pottering about. Then we went for Sunday lunch at Kath’s mum’s. We talked about Disney plans some more and made some reservations etc. Then we checked on the sheep (all fine) and then came home. Once home I felt a bit flat. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. There was some work stuff that needs doing but I’m trying really hard to not let work interfere with weekends. We’ve seen what comes of that and it’s not pretty.

So I had a bit of a battle with myself. I was on the sofa. Getting off the sofa is really hard. I’d been on it for a while faffing on the computer, half heartedly looking at some work stuff, planning tomorrow’s work day. But I felt a bit lost. I was thinking about all sorts of stuff but in particular of a friend who currently has her son in hospital fighting anorexia. It’s not my story to tell, so I won’t say any more but I suddenly thought that if an 11 year old can somehow find the strength to battle his deamons in the way this kid is then I can ask for help to get off this damn sofa and go and run. I asked Kath if she’d take me. She’d already been once this morning and I wasn’t sure she wanted to go again or indeed whether I could run after a full Sunday dinner complete with chocolate pudding and vanilla ice cream. She agreed.

We got changed and did some yoga to try and get my legs loosened a bit and then we set off on a slow plod. We used intervals all the way and actually it was ok. It was a little slower than the same route yesterday but also more consistent and I got a little further up the hills. In all honesty, a Sunday dinner is not good running fuel – at least not if you have pudding. I felt like I was seconds away from a stitch from hell all the way round and at times I felt more than a little sick but complaining wasn’t an option. Today running wasn’t about me. It was about a kid in a hospital bed fighting like hell. Of course me running doesn’t make any difference to him, it’s somewhat of a hollow gesture and part of me can’t help feeling that it’s all a bit selfish on my part. After all him being there made me get my butt out the door. Thinking about him made me not quit on the hills but that’s not about him, that’s about me. It changed my perspective and made me shout at myself. I can hear myself now: ‘Just suck it up sunshine, you’ve nothing to complain about’.

So somehow my 3.1 miles seem so pathetic in the face of other people’s battles but my friend, her son and their family are in my thoughts and I’m sending strength and maybe me (and many others in our little running family) putting one foot in front of the other with him in mind is a show of support and solidarity from which they can draw some comfort and hope.