Finding it on a sparkly, misty night

I ran today. 8.6 fairly insignificant kms yet they felt the most profound of my life.  I wish I were being over-dramatic.

For the last couple of months my life has been a traumatic joke.  For a while I managed to balance my work life on a knife edge with remaining sane.  Constantly challenging myself to keep looking after myself at the same time as delivering more and more work with less and less help.  Gradually my own life ebbed away, leaving a worn out, flustered, annoyed, angry, exhausted shell of a woman I did not understand or recognise.  It was allowed to happen.  Help was offered but it was the wrong kind of help.  And so I struggled on.

Then last week I accidentally booked into the wrong hotel.

I thought I’d upgrade to a hotel in town but discovered that living in the middle of a shopping arcade and a housing estate doesn’t give me any motivation to leave on a bicycle.  Then, tragedy, I forgot my running shoes.  The easiest device to use to navigate yourself out of a ford-focus-and-2.4-children hellhole and I left them at home. 

Getting in from work at 6 to 7pm, eating then working some more then falling over on the bed only to wake at 2am, get up, do more work and then go back to bed for an hour-or-so before getting up and doing it all again.  My brain was exhausted but my body was not.

I drove to the station to pick up managers.  I drove to Worksop for a massage.  Apart from the lack of time to ride, the inclination wasn’t there.  I’ve had problems with the bike getting into its gears.  On Thursday night, in place of riding my bike, I lay on the floor next to it and stared at the ceiling then stared at the bike.  At least if I couldn’t ride it, I could fix it. 

Funnily enough, in a moment of calm I at least figured out what the problem was and fixed it… at least I think I got it.  I didn’t get to find out for on Friday, I drove home.  Still no bicycling.

I stopped in a side road to dial into the 4:30 meeting – I at least gave myself that much of the afternoon off.  Apparently it was most inconvenient of me to dial into the meeting from my motor car. I guess it meant a man had to take minutes. 

I updated my colleagues and promised to finish a piece of work either this weekend or on Monday.  It wasn’t going to get done on Monday. 

I stopped off at the bike shop to buy a bit for my other bike and tried to make conversation but all I could think was how little I had ridden my bike and how little time I would have to fix this part to my bike. 

By the time I got home I wanted to cry.  I ate my dinner and fell into bed exhausted.  At 2am I was wide awake.

I got up and made the first changes to the document.  I worked for 2 hours before going back to bed at 4:30 and sleeping until 7:30.  I got up more exhausted than when I’d gone to bed but I had to eat.  I got the laptop out again and finished the document and sent it out.  I worked on the bike for the shortest amount of time possible.  I didn’t even test ride it.  I was supposed to be going out but I really couldn’t face it.  On the other hand I knew that friends were exactly what I needed right now so I went out.  I was exactly right. 

The walk to my friends’ house was tough though.  I enjoyed every moment of it.  Finally one foot was falling in front of the other; the breeze made me put my gloves on.  The freakishly warm air made me regret wearing my down coat.  Bonfires were on the air.  Happy families passed us by with children ensconced in waterproof fleecy onesies with welly boots on their feet.  It was the weekend before bonfire night.

I love bonfire night.  I love bonfire night more than Christmas.  Normally I know exactly when the free firework display is on in town.  Normally I have all the plans set out.  This year, I haven’t had time to think of it.  This year Christmas is likely to be ruined the same way.

My friends fed me.  I’d eaten nothing but a pot noodle and some cereal and toast all day.  I stared at a fire, chatted, wandered around the corner to get the best look at the fireworks and spent 15 minutes sitting on the pavement leaning on a wall and watching the sparkles glide through the air, enjoying the booms, banks and crackles. 

Then I returned to the party for sparklers.

A lovely lady called Rita shared her stories with me and said sweet things like, “women like you are forging the future, you’re what will make it better for women who follow” and I nearly cried.  Not because she made me feel special (she did and she’s right) but because I am sad that when I was her age, 25 years ago, I thought that women like my boss were forging the future, that she would make it better for women who follow”.  Current status: Things feel a whole lot worse right now.

I didn’t drink a lot – despite buying enough to sink me, I drank one bottle of beer and a bottle of some lowly alcoholic level.  I daren’t drink anymore, it just makes the sleepless nights worse.  So we walked home, early enough to go racing tomorrow, early enough to be thankful that I didn’t get shit faced and make a fool of myself / cry / spend the weekend cursing the waste of time being hungover.  Early enough that we weren’t so tired we got a taxi.  Instead we walked our way home through the glorious winter evening, yawning our way up the hill and fell into bed as soon as we got in.

This morning I woke up thankful for a full nights’ sleep.  From midnight till 7:30 am.  Abject bliss.  Clearly exhaustion is the key.  Clearly I cannot live this life without exercise.  Still, the bike looked at me and I knew I needed to work.  Here is my balance at the moment – I do what makes me feel least guilty.

My hair and body smelled of smoke.  Despite the light weighted night, I felt like I’d been clubbing pissed and smoked 20 fags.  Exhaustion from the week sat on me heavy and as soon as TSK asked if I wanted to go out racing, the answer was honest: No.

Last week I forced myself but I was worried that if I forced myself this week I would never actually survive another week at work.  Starting tired and sore, no.  I needed to start this week rested but ahead of the game.  I got my laptop out but I did promise myself I wouldn’t do too much.

TSK did the right thing and gave me advance warning of lunch so at 11:45 I negotiated myself one last action and then extracted myself from work by 12:30.  We walked up the hill at which point my body crashed.  Yesterday’s starvation combined with a small breakfast and all that exercise last night did not bode well.  I was teary again in the café but thankfully I recognised it as low sugar.  A burger and chips sorted me out.

We walked for miles around and into town.  We walked along Frog Walk which follows a riverside path and I listened to the stream.  A little bird blew through my brain with its song like fresh air and again I felt alive.  I didn’t for one moment regret my decision for the day.  A nice bit of gentle exercise.  I felt I was giving my body permission to move again.  Nothing that was going to do any damage – physically or mentally – but just enough.   I did some shopping which made me happy.  A simple pair of everyday earrings to replace and odd pair.  £20 on a fountain pen since I’m sick of losing expensive good ones.

Then we walked home.  Still I enjoyed every step.  The temperature got warmer and my coat came off and by the time we got home I was determined to find myself another space in this day – to earn myself the time to go for a run.  I got changed almost immediately and went back out.

I ran up first, through the edge of the woods where I could still just make out enough under-foot to see where I was going without falling over.  The thought of someone trying to attack me was laughable; they wouldn’t be able to keep their footing.  I knew this like the back of my hand. 

Up through the allotments where the children streamed down the hill screaming, “I can smell the bonfire!”  Through the horse yard where I walked carefully to avoid making anyone jump.  Dropping down the bridle path the light really had gone as I stepped off a stile and snicked my foot between a rock and the dry stone wall.  The head torch went on.  Onto the clifftop run around the quarry then a short jog along the A57.  For once my immediate surroundings were not the distraction.  Up and down the valley I watched the fireworks cast out into the fog, blotting in the wet sky like psychiatrist’s patterns in the mist.  Were they telling me I was crazy?

I descended, finally feeling a little cold in the dark air and without any load on my legs.  The gloves went back on and I rolled my sleeves back down but I was too happy now to be upset with the cold.  I was ecstatic to have my shoes careering through the crisp leaves as their white backs glistened back at my headtorch.  Suddenly I felt abject joy.

I stopped to capture my joy in case it fleeted away.  It was a challenge. 

Along the bottom of the valley, with kids and families again.  Dogs’ wild eyes reflecting off my torch light turning the happiest and softest of family Labradors into the Hound of the Baskervilles, the lumens reflecting off teeth in the smiling, panting mouths of pups.  They all had a fuss off me.

When I reached the mill pond my legs were beginning to tire.  I realised I wasn’t on the 7k loop but on the 8-9km loop.  My ankles and knees were aching and I was starting to run with sloppy form.  I was worn out.  Rather than keep plodding away at the same bad form, I put in a stint of perfect running.  It was fast but it was “easy”.  I’d been plodding so long that consciously “running well” was introducing all kinds of new muscle groups and giving my worn bumbling muscles a rest.  It didn’t last long.  It really didn’t last long but it brought me to a new state of mind. 

I could feel the tangled mess of my brain straightening itself out into tangible strands.  I didn’t solve any mind blowing problems but suddenly I found peace.  My project no longer mattered. I matter. 

My deadline is irrelevant compared to my lifeline.

I have done my best.  I have asked for help (and it was denied).  I have learned a lot (it has done nothing for my trust issues!).

By the time I reached the Rivelin Park the free firework display had begun.  Whizz bang.  I took the opportunity to do some stretching, ease my tired legs whilst I watched the fireworks go off somewhere good.  Usually the golf club have a “do”… or the posh people on the park at Crookes.  Down at the bottom of the valley by the allotments, some others were just having a bonfire of garden stuff.  It was tempting to go and join them but probably not advised in shorts.

My final run was through the park where dog walkers still streamed out.  I remembered how much I missed going to Scotland, running and walking in the real hills.  I made myself some promises to do more fell races this year.  They were good promises.  Ones I will keep.  Most importantly I felt like I had rescued myself from the brink.  Abject exhaustion is an after-effect of my run today.  With a brain already fatigued beyond belief, my body does now actually match – which is a relief.  I will sleep tonight – potentially for the second time in a row… but even if I do not, I have learned something massive this week.  I have learned just how broken I can be and still survive and I have learned just how unacceptable it is to be there… and I have promised myself, more than anything else, I will never, ever, ever, go there again.

I am still alive.