Eight weeks to go. The training is progressing though sometimes it feels like really hard work. I've been going through these gates a lot recently. But are they the gates of heaven or hell? Going one way leads through into the deer park. Past the church and the obelisk. It can lead to a wonderful world of antlered deer stags, ice houses, world heritage, buzzards, the foothills of the dales, and a cafe with scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam. Heaven on earth. But it also leads to a very long mile uphill - the 'Studley Mile', up to it's very own Barkley gate at the top which I have to touch to complete a strength sapping speed interval. Eight minutes of hell doing each hill effort. Only to have to turn around and repeat, again and again. Or onwards through those gates at the top to do another 23 miles to complete a back-to-back-marathon-long-slow-trails-weekend. The thought of doing it is daunting. Going the other way through the gate is usually good. It'...
So what's that other charity I'll be fundraising for?
I find it difficult to write about this. It is something I've hidden for many years. I had severe ulcerative colitis in my mid 20's and needed my large bowel (or colon) removing. I had a replumbing operation 6 months later called an ileoanal pouch. Only my nearest and dearest or those that knew me at the time when it all happened know.
It was when I was making the decision whether to do the LEJOG run that I had a light bulb moment. It was this that was stopping me. Not the physical challenge itself (although daunting). My catastrophising mind asks how could I share a room with someone I don't know for 5 weeks, with my frequent and explosive ablutions, knowing that if I can't relax, the converse happens and I become a one man abdominal pressure cooker/washing machine, ready to blow? How can I manage to fuel myself during my run, knowing that if I eat anything it immediately makes me want to go to the loo and can be excruciatingly painful with all that jiggling up and down? How can I can stay hydrated when exerting myself for so long when the very thing that reabsorbs all the fluid in my gut is missing?
It is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed of and what better way of banishing it as a barrier than outing it and normalising it and giving hope and inspiration to others who have a pouch or are about to go through the operation. Life goes on. So that is why I've linked up with the Ileostomy and Internal Pouch Association. We're going to be working on some projects over the months to raise awareness, funds and hope.
Don't get me wrong, it's all been fine and I will cope. The barriers I describe are real but blown out of proportion in my mind - but when something is stopping you doing things you want to do, it's time to address it.
I've probably overshared, not just on this post but throughout my blog, for which I was going to apologise. But I'm not. I'm not sorry at all.
If you feel inspired, please donate to IA (Ileostomy and Internal Pouch Association), the national charity whose primary aim is to support people who need surgery for an ileostomy or internal pouch. IA provides specialist support and guidance through its trained volunteers, telephone helpline, extensive range of literature, and social media.
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