The Inside Lane

20:01. A respectable 5K time for any 44-year-old, but one agonising second away from my sub 20 minute target.  My initial reaction to my chip time at the Donfaster 5K on Friday was disappointment. Could I have given a little bit more? It didn't take long for me to gain some perspective though. I felt strong throughout the race and paced each lap evenly. I didn't come last in a wave of impressive runners, some of whom finished the course in around 15 minutes. I didn't throw up. What's more, the physical act of running a solid race opened up a psychological door to the belief that, with consistent training and effort, I could achieve a lifetime PB and potentially even break 19 minutes. I am still recovering and I am still healing. What awaits, what feels tantalisingly close, is a new era where I switch gears from surviving to thriving. It feels good to be running fast again. Last push towards the finish line.

I sat in the Doctor's waiting room this morning reading Murakami's 'What I talk about when I talk about running'. It's described as equal parts travelogue, training log and reminiscence, as the author reflects upon the influence running has had on his life. I'm not far into the book enough to form any opinions, but I'm already struck by the similar character traits I share with Murakami who describes being the type of person who "doesn't find it painful to be alone."  I've always been quite introspective. These days that's not seen as the negative character trait it once was. It's almost fashionable to be an introvert and it's not as socially acceptable for the more brash among us to blurt out: "you're quiet." I've always hated that.  While I do enjoy socialising with the right people, running - especially in nature - provides a breathing space from the business and noise of the modern world. I started reading ...

It's approaching a year since we lost our Mum. It's approaching 12 months since I had my last round of treatment. In recent times, I've strived to focus on what I have and what I've gained, rather than what I've lost. It might sound strange but I have developed a sense of gratitude for what acute promyelocytic  myeloid leukemia (aka Cyril) gave me. Cyril critically injured the person I was in early 2025.  Grief killed him. Salman Rushdie said: "To be born again, first you have to die." And I do feel like I have been born again. My experiences have changed the way I think about life and reinforced my priorities. I live a life of genuine gratitude. The aim is not to be happy all the time. It's about being at peace with all of life's inevitable ups and downs. This next phase of my life is about prioritising what matters to me and not doing things to please other people. This means more time for family, friends, loved ones and the activities I'm pa...

I've got the Winter Olympics on in the background while I tap away on the keyboard. I've always been fascinated by normal people doing super human things. If you've seen cross-country skier Johanes Klaebo in action, you'll know what I mean. There's something slightly unsettling about watching him charge up an 18% incline like a Viking Beserker. Speaking of super human, I was reading about Jasmin Paris recently. I was vaguely aware of her breaking the 268 mile Spine Race ultra marathon record in 2019. I didn't appreciate the enormity of her achievement until I read "Dirtbag Dreams." Paris smashed the previous record by 12 hours. She became the first woman to win the race outright. She did this while expressing milk for her 14-month-old Daughter. Training? 4 am runs in the dark before juggling full-time jobs as a Vet and a Mother. I am in awe. But we all have our own mountains to climb. Mine has been simply to get back to a level of fitness I'm happy...

The weather lately has been depressing. There seems no end to the relentless grey skies and drizzle. This contributed to challenging conditions in the inter-club cross country home fixture on Sunday. The mud was oppressive. Energy sapping. Sections of the course were walked.  I finished around 5 minutes slower than my previous effort on this course. It may have been fatigue from the ski trip, the conditions, current fitness levels, or all of the above. There's a fantastic video from legendary coach Frank Dick. He talks about what it means to be a winner, about being better today than you were yesterday. It captures the essence of our sport beautifully: What it means to be a winner OK, I may have been slower than I was two years ago, but one year ago I was in the trenches with cancer and chemotherapy.  A reminder to be patient, a virtue I have rarely demonstrated in life. I've got the Donfaster 5K coming up in March, the day after my 44th Birthday. As I approach the V45 categor...

I've just returned from Val Thorens in the French Alps. It's been a long-standing ambition of mine to experience a proper ski resort, ever since watching Ski Sunday as a child. I can vividly remember seeing the athletes flying down the slopes and thinking: "I'd love a bit of that." My closest prior experience was a handful of Snowboard lessons on the dry slopes at Sheffield Ski Village around 20 years ago. I ended up injured and miserable but still harboured a deep yearning to try it on real snow. It would probably have been wise to take some more lessons before the trip. But, to my own surprise, I was fairly good at it. We had two full days on the slopes and by the end of the second day, I was confident picking up speed and felt reasonably competent. I  was happy on the green runs, tried a couple of blues and even survived an accidental red. It was an unforgettable experience, in the beautiful French Alps with my friends, and the time flew by.  When I was in hosp...