It's time to stop running

          Hello, my lovelies.    

           For so many brave and courageous people, today was the London marathon. Those select few dedicate months and months to training, during sunshine and rain, just so they can queue up, attach their unique number, and run through the streets of this great city. Their reasons may vary, and some may not finish, but the outcome is always the same. They can say that they actually did it. No matter what time they ran, or if the managed to cross the finish line or not, the did it. And many raise a small fortune for charity by doing it. But for the rest of us, well, me mostly, the thought of running to the end of the street let alone a full marathon is nothing more than a scene straight out of a horror movie. For others, as they cross the finish line their flushed red smiling faces tell the world how remarkable they are. But for me, I have a small hot flush just trying to bend down to tie my shoelaces. They say that running is good for the soul. The exercise alone is life changing. But is running always a good idea? Can we spend our lives always running? Or sometimes do we have to stop running and face the music?   

           I have always said that if you see me running, then you better run too as there will be something big, bad and full of gnashing teeth chasing me. When I see the word run, my brain always corrects it to sat rum, and suddenly I turn into a pirate and demand a barrel full of the stuff. Back in middle school I would regularly run cross country, spending hours running around my, back then, massive school grounds. Strange how small it looks to me now, but back then it was massive. Girls ran one way, and the boys would always run the other, meaning that when we would inevitably meet in the middle, I would always try and look as ‘cute’ as possible, and not red faced and sweaty as I was. I don’t remember if I really enjoyed running, but I know that I did a lot of it. Now. Now I can’t think of anything worse. I’m old. My knees hurt. My back hurts. And there is always something I should be doing, so training to run wouldn’t ever get onto my to do list.

               But I do love seeing all my Facebook friends cross the finish line, joyfully smiling as they pose for the celebratory picture. But I know that running is something that I will never do. And I am very okay with that. But then it had me thinking. I do run. I run every day, but not with my old and tired feet. I run from my life. Now, I am not saying that I have a bad life, I really don’t. Okay, so I had a bad start to it, and an awful abusive marriage, but now, now things are really good. Well, apart from the great upheaval of 2022. When cancer entered my daily vocabulary. And the ever-growing bills that never seem to stop. And that my beautiful children won’t stop growing and moving on with their lives, leaving me behind. But I am in a very privileged position of having access to the best cancer care treatment in the world. And if you’ve spoken to me, then you know that I always joke about the cancer. The hair loss. The weight gain. The eternal hot flushes. And the general feeling of not being in control of my body and life. But when I thought about it, I realised that I have never sat down and processed what cancer has done to my life. I have always run away from the self-care that we all need, and me more than ever. 

            But what is self-care? For most Gen X’s, we were never taught about self-care. It was seen as lazy and selfish to take care of our minds and bodies. Even talking about mental health was seen as a taboo. We were taught to suck it up and just push aside our very basic self-care needs. I remember back in the summer of 1999, I was doing a TIE, Theatre in Education, show and accompanying workshop up in Shetland. I was there for just over 3 weeks, traveling around the different Islands, performing, and running workshops on Black Beard the pirate. It was an absolute hoot. Apart from the fact that I struggled on the ferry crossing and ended up with motion sickness. It was hilarious. One minute I would be alright, and the next I would feel dizzy and end up on the floor. And to my cast mates’ credit, they would carry on with the show when I did fall over, which I did a lot. It was okay back then, I was young and could bounce when I fell, now if I go down, I’d probably break something. Anyhoo, I ended up having to pay a visit to the local hospital. And that is where I learnt a very valuable life lesson. In Shetland, at that time they only had two doctors on call. And on that day, I was greeted by the best-looking doctor I had ever seen. He gave me the once over, and from that day to this, when I must go to see a medical professional, I make sure that I at least have presentable underwear on. And not the miss matched, holey monstrosity I had on at the time. But he recommended that to recover from the motion sickness, that I had to take some time off and relax.        

              Relax? What the hell was that? I had never relaxed before. I grew up in a household where my beloved mother ran 3 different companies, A theatre, clown and Costume company, there was always so much to do. I lived in a house with over 2,500 costumes in it. The laundry pile was often taller than I was. And when I lived with my ex-husband, I was never allowed to stop and sit down. Relaxing was as alien concept to me then as running is to me now. So I, like so many of my generation were never taught how to relax. I have always gone straight from one thing to the next. Filling my days to the brim. One Christmas not so long ago I somehow managed to be the director of one pantomime, and appear in another at the same time, all whilst working at my four different jobs, running my home and trying to raise my children. From the break of day to almost midnight I was running.     

        But I can’t keep running. I am so tired with it all. I always thought that running would keep my life moving forwards. But it didn’t. I am often running in circles, never having the time or the capacity to finish the task in hand, before a new set of deadlines were placed on front of me. I kept running through my childhood. And never stopped for one second to think during my marriage, I ran through my divorce, the move, the pandemic and even my cancer. But I can’t keep running. It’s time for me to stop, face the truth and sit down. 

            My beautiful, talented, and astute daughter told me yesterday that if I needed to sit down, lay down or even spend my whole Sunday in bed then that was okay. Self-care is more important that working my way through the ironing pile. The world would not end if I didn’t manage to cross off anything from my to do list. And she’s right. There will always be something I should be doing. But sitting down, thinking and just breathing is enough.