Salty Eyelids FTW

Sunday night bloggy time again!

It's not been a proper 15 mile run unless you have salt crystallising on your
eyelids and chocolate milk smeared all over your face...

This week has been great...I think. I'll admit I've been burning the candle at both ends a little bit. After heading out to Sneaky Pete's on Tuesday for Matt Norris & The Moon album launch (you can listen on Spotify here) I got up and ran 5miles in the rain before scooting off to Glasgow for a hefty day of bid team meetings and digging into my team's plan of attack at work. Then I thought it was a bright idea to go to a Bonobo set at Sub Club (I was seriously the oldest, squarest, soberest person there - the walls were practically dripping with Glasgow Art School types with no spatial awareness) which finished at 3am...and then I drove my buddies back to Edinburgh in the daylight. 

Winning at life. I am so young right now.

Tatty in da cluuuurrrb..

 Anyway - I also smacked down a good 7.2miler on Friday evening after a fresh orange at the pub, and got shat on by a pigeon on my way back through the Meadows. How nice. Needless to say the final 2miles home were...swift (no bird pun intended). 

Some say it's lucky. 

Some...

And then today was my 15.2miler (ASK ANY MARATHONER AND THE POINT TWO MATTERS, OK?!) - long, kinda boring, hard work, but I got there with something still in the tank I think. A night at The Basement probably didn't help. I figure that if I can complete all my long runs in Edinburgh weather, with Edinburgh HILLS, with a slight hangover, race day should be a breeze. 

I jest - I've been taking it rather easy on the nights out with friends. But it's as important to seize the moment and embrace the enjoyment of life's spontaneity as it is to run long and run slow. I'm trying to have a little bit of everything in moderation...and running in droves.

This evening I bumped into an old friend of mine, Gregor, and we had a beer in the garden seeing as it is so beautifully light at the moment. Seriously, it's 11.20pm and still light out there, it's a beauty. 

I told him about my fundraising for Alzheimer's Society and he was, like so many people have been, genuinely keen to support me to not only raise funds but to raise awareness too. Gregor's dad passed away 18yrs ago from early-onset dementia. He was diagnosed in his early 60s - just another example of the various ways that people can be affected by different types of this disease. Gregor was keen to come along to my fundraising BBQ this summer and share his experiences and advice with others who have that personal connection. It's really important to him, and he's not the only one. 

I'm genuinely bowled over by how many people have responded with personal stories after I've told them I'm fundraising for this cause. My friend in Australia has just found out her Grandad has Alzheimers, my downstairs neighbour's father has recently received a diagnosis of the early stages of the disease, Gregor's dad, my friend from many years back at the Tap, a contact I know through my current job. So many people have a personal connection and it's been so encouraging and heart-warming to hear their stories too. It makes me feel like I'm not just running this Marathon out of my own interests, but in the interests of so so many people around me. It's spurring me on to no end. 

So, I think this is what's also keeping me moving and helping me to remain so positive, driven and excited about all the long miles ahead. The hardest line to cross in any Marathon isn't the finish line, it's the start line. This training is hard work, my legs are tired already and my priorities are all over the place. But I'm so engrossed in it, and it's going well so far. 

14 weeks now until race day, and still lots of miles to go. I've completed seven weeks of training so far and I've run 134.6miles (216.6km) in total, averaging 19.2miles (30.9km) per week at the moment. That's only set to rise now, but first I'm taking a few little weeks of holiday while my BEST FRIEND GETS MARRIED and we all swan off to Tuscany for a few days. I'm looking forward to getting back out on some fresher legs after a fortnight of short runs to see how the timings are looking at half marathon distance. At the moment I'm running long and slow on pretty fatigued legs all the time, so it'll be interesting to see how the long run goes when I'm a bit fresher. Fresher, and filled with wine and pasta. 

It's fine...it's "carb loading"...

To take a peep at my fundraising page, head to JustGiving.

All my FitSnaps re training runs can be found on my Instagram. 

Thanks so much for sticking with me - I'll be funnier next time, I promise. :)

Meanwhile, watch this because it's gorgeous and you all deserve it, you gorgeous lot...

Lots of love, 
Nikki. xxx

I'm sorry, this list needs more wine...

Hello all - yes I'm still running and I'm still fundraising. 

Total mileage this week comes to 29.8miles (48km) and I've not pestered you for sponsorship since before payday...so...please do take a peep at my lovely JustGiving page and pop a few pennies into the pot if you can. The sacrifices have started...I'm already thinking about the massive roast dinner I'm going to dive into when I get back from Berlin. There's also some toenail shit happening again already...I'd suggest you sponsor me if you do not wish to hear the gory specifics... 

Go on...just click it...

But really...

Recently I've been thinking a lot about prioritising this year's goals. I've got heaps going on, so I think my confused little brain is craving a bit of order and structure to things. I'm making a lot of lists. 

With this in mind, I thought I'd write about my lists of motivations for doing the things I'm doing. What should our priorities be based upon..? Should we feel guilty about doing something that isn't a priority, or should we prioritise things that make us happy and scrap the guilt?

A lot of people are surprised by those of us who enjoy running. I think it's an enjoyment that differs from person to person, but I believe that at the heart of it is a sentiment that is universally satisfying: smugness. 

It's difficult to describe the type of enjoyment I get from running. But trying to explain the prioritisation behind why I run has thrown up some amusing self-analysis...

Before heading out for a long run, or any run for that matter, my long-suffering flatmate Tom will tell you that after uttering the words "I'm going out for a run" I faff around for at least half an hour. I mean I engage in some serious faffery. Chattering like a wind up toy about things that are drab and unimportant, emptying the dishwasher, feeding the fish, browsing the bookcases, all while dressed in head-to-toe running gear and the occasional flash of hi-vis. I look desperately out of place huffing and plodding about in the living room while Tom's trying to enjoy a G&T, watching Jamie's 30 second meals, or however fast he's cooking these days. But I like to stare out of the window for a while and pass comment on the weather conditions. 

Though Tom is not obliged to enter into a conversation about the weather, he almost always just says "I think you should go"...

That's a direct quote. 

But by the time I reach the end of my street, I'm brand new. I look silly when I run - that's just fact. I'm not lean or athletic in build, but I have an ever growing selection of marathon t-shirts that might as well say "When was the last time you ran 26 miles, you fat-head?" to anyone who looks at me and thinks something negative about my appearance. Part one of why I enjoy running long distances - because it surprises people who have pre-conceived notions about what "a runner" or a healthy person should look like. The irony of this is that I find it hard not to look at myself without the same judgement and negativity, especially when some idiot beeps their horn at me. Urgh, I could just cry. I'm not alone in this, I know, but that's another battle that I'm coming on to...

Part two: the endorphins. They say some people take as little as 10 minutes to experience an endorphin release - I think it takes me about 10 seconds. And once I'm settled into a run I'm smacked off my tits on the stuff. I smile at dog walkers.

Part three, and this is the most significant one: the sense of achievement and satisfaction. It doesn't matter what you set out to do, whether it's exercise or reading a book or building a model ship, it's the enjoyment of reaching the point of completion that matters. I love being able to embrace the achievement and we all need to do more of that, no matter what our goals look like. I'm not sharing a goal with anyone else, it's just mine, all for me. I don't want the same goals as Paula Radcliffe because I'd just feel pants when I'm not setting new World Records within a fortnight. It's about perspective, realism and respecting the long game. 

Having said all of this, I too fight with a huge lack of perspective regarding other goals of mine. I can't remember a time in the past 16 years when I haven't wanted to lose weight. And I've lost some, sure, but it never seemed to be enough...until recently when things have started to rearrange themselves a bit.

This week I ran almost 10miles before going to work on Monday morning and I felt great. 

On Tuesday I got a gold star from my GP for having textbook perfect blood pressure of 120/80 and told that I just need to just keep doing whatever it is I'm doing, and I felt great. 

I had a busy week at work and turned around an application for funding that I was proud of, and I felt great. 

I resisted Tom's offer of steak, wine and goose-fat roasted potatoes on Wednesday, instead opting for a 5mile run and some turkey with salad, and I felt great. 

And then at the end of the week I stepped on a set of scales, saw I'd gained half a pound, and I felt crap. 

Why? Why, when things are laid out plainly like that, does the last element have the overwhelming power to make all the other things feel completely void of value? Why am I prioritising a few pounds over everything else in my life?! I'm not the only person who has felt this way, I'm sure. I've spoken with two friends today who have what I refer to as the "Food Guilt", because they enjoyed a day of indulging in less healthy foods and having some drinks and laughter with close friends. Now they feel bad and one of them literally want to exercise until they pass out in order to make up for it (I love you, you hilarious person). 

Well I've decided that the Food Guilt is absolute rubbish, and we all need to take some chill and get some perspective. Give that little shit-spouting demon on our shoulder what-for, and humiliate him by boasting about all the very amazing things we have all been achieving. I follow a movement (makes it sound weird but bear with me) on social media called "Healthy is the New Skinny" - it was set up by an amazing lady called Katie Willcox and she, aside from being desperately beautiful, has inspired me to change the way I prioritise my goals. 

My advice to anyone feeling swamped by images of unrealistic so-called "beauty" needs to delete half of their Instagram follows and start building up some #healthyisthenewskinny content. A daily Insta-feed of real, beautiful, confident women of all different shapes, sizes, colours and nationalities will work wonders - it's refreshing, encouraging and most of all it gives us all a bit of much-needed realistic perspective. At least it's certainly helped me to stop fixating on an irrelevant number on "the sad step" as my friend calls it. 

I've decided I'm not going to let weight be an overarching priority any more. Life is too short for feeling guilty all the time. So mix the good with the gluttonous, go forth, have wine, and play Cards Against Humanity with your close friends. It sets the mind up just perfectly for a nice long run the next day. :) 

My priority is everything else I'm looking to achieve this year, including reaching a £1,000 fundraising target for Alzheimer's Society, details of which are all on my JustGiving page.

#JustSaying

;)

xxx

Tatty Tumbles...

Just a quick post today to remind you all why I'm putting myself through so many early morning wake-up calls and sacrificing so many Sunday roasts, all in the name of running...and a funny story after that. One that involves me lying on my back in the street before I've even had anything to drink...and I wasn't even in Leith...

In the time it takes you to read this post, roughly three people will have developed dementia. Yup. 225,000 develop dementia every year, and it can happen to anyone. As you all know, it happened to my Grandads. Currently there is no cure, but Alzheimer's Society work tirelessly to support people to live well with dementia today, and fight for a tomorrow without it.

There are over 3,000 community based services around the UK providing all kinds of support. From information and hands on help to research and campaigning, further details of all their amazing work can be found on the website, here. I've spent a lot of time on the Alzheimer's Society website over the past couple of weeks and I have learnt so much more that I had no idea about...and it's made me even more determined than ever to raise that £1,000 this summer. My heart and soul are in this with me.

Please, please, please take a peep at my JustGiving page. With payday just around the corner now, even the cheekiest of £5 donations will make all the difference. I am so grateful for all of the support and sponsorship I've received so far - huge thank yous to everyone who has already donated...there will be some special thank you gifts coming your way in due course, all of which themed on memories we have shared personally together.

So...marathon training. Where are we up to?

Well I spent some time in the pub this weekend with my friend AC Muir who is a 2hr 24min London Marathon finisher. That's VERY VERY FAST AND AMAZING. And even though I am nowhere neeeear that kind of caliber, AC has very kindly spent time talking through my training schedule and demonstrating the perfect set of strides outside the pub, before too many pints of cider were consumed. 

He was also on hand to offer sympathy via Twitter today, following my epic tumble while out on my short recovery run this morning. I tripped myself up on some uneven paving and properly flew like a good'n, complete with a comedy sound effect that epitomised my thoughts of "OH MY GOD I AM IN THE AIR AND I AM GOING DOWN AND THIS IS HAPPENING AND WILL PROBABLY HURT AND WHEN DID THE GROUND GET SO FAR AWAY?!"

And I went from travelling at pace to travelling at no pace at all in about half a second. In four an a half years of running, this is the first time I've ever fallen over - so I'm glad I could throw in a full-blown commando roll while I was at it. And yes...people saw me. And two dogs, wagging their tails with gusto. Cheeky buggers. 

As far as falling over goes, I totally nailed it. I've not had scabby knees in about 20yrs, so I thought I might as well just do a proper job. 

I didn't get as much mollycoddling as I'd hoped from the flatmates. Luckily (for them), I too appreciate how amusing it is to see me sat with two sandwich bags of ice on my knees while trying to solicit sympathy.

Anyway - that's what I get for being so keen. 

Running chat: at AC's advising, I've incorporated some threshold runs into my training plan, running a solid 30mins at a comfortably hard pace and incorporating four sets of 80m strides. The strides feel a bit unnatural at first, but I really enjoy the sensation of really picking up the pace and striding out for short bursts - anything more and I'm dying, honestly. I'm also doing some split timings, but that's for another day.

I'm looking forward to getting the mileage up over the weeks to come. It's a far cry from training in the winter for LA Marathon. Waking up at 5.30am to natural daylight is just blissful, and although it's not particularly warm and sunny in Scotland just yet, it's a damn sight more pleasant than pitch darkness, regular sleet and dangerous patchy ice. 

Special love also goes out this week to my bff Laurence - she listens to all of my boring running chat and puts up with me admirably and I'd be lost without her. So cheers to this gorgeous little bird. 

That's all for now - in addition to planning for Berlin Marathon I'm currently obsessed with the following things:

The new Jamie xx album - In Colour

Zadie Smith - On Beauty 

This hilarious Buzzfeed

Thanks for sticking with me, muckers. 

Nikki. xxx

One hundred years of memory...

Marathon training update - yes, I've been doing my homework everybody. I enjoyed a nice 5miler along the canal this week, followed by a strenuous set of hill-sprint reps up and down the Links (trying not to get hit by any golf balls...it's like a gauntlet out there!). Today has been a stunner of a Saturday so I pounded out a leisurely-paced 9miles, or thereabouts, in the sunshine. Distances are a smidgen up on the training plan, but I can't promise I'll keep that up - it all depends on how far the mood takes you...and how many pints you had the night before. 

Thankfully, I have been very sensible of late. 

But on to more important things...

Today would be my Grandad Frank's 100th birthday, so I wanted to tell you a bit more about this person I am fundraising and running in memory of, and why he was so special to me and such a great character to have had in our lives for those who knew him. I'm hoping we can raise £1,000 for Alzheimer's Society - I think he'd be quite chuffed with that...

Francis Gandy was born on 23rd May 1915 and was the middle child of five Gandy reprobates! I only say that because he was the one who told me he'd earned the nickname "Knocker Gandy" as a kid, chapping the doors of the Gandy empire to collect rent money! He told so many stories about his home and growing up in an area of Widnes called West Bank, which is right on the River Mersey beneath the Runcorn/Widnes Bridge. 

"St Pat's" Primary - Front row, second from the left...looking cheerful as ever.
Special shout out to the poor kid with a broken arm on a stick at the back.

Widnes was a heavily industrial town and West Bank was famed for being the home of Gossage's Soap Works, part of which still stands now as the Catalyst Museum, an industrial museum about the local industry and area with an awesome glass roof terrace and amazing views. I remember taking my Grandad up there not long after my Nan had died and we walked around the building and around West Bank too. He showed me his house on Mersey Road, pointed out all the shops that used to be there, told me about the families that lived in each house along those streets. Pointed out an area where he said there used to be a graveyard and where some of his brothers and sisters were buried who died when they were very young. 

I later looked this up on historical maps of the area and sure enough, there was a small graveyard which is now worryingly close to a housing estate! Further to that I did some census record research and found that he did indeed have two siblings who died in infancy...our family had never known any of this before. It was amazing. His memory, despite his dementia, was crystal clear with vivid stories about his childhood and it was so special to share them with him that day because it was like they had been locked away before this time. 

He told lots of stories about "my big sister Kitty" (or Elsie as she was christened) and big brother Tom, along with his younger sister Rita who I treasured as a Great Aunt and have so many fond and funny memories of too. He also had a younger brother called Les who I believe died when he was young, but no-one seems to know much about Les at all. I guess this highlighted another side to my Grandad, one that was very private and quiet, and kept himself to himself. Never made a fuss.

Grandad's father was a roofer. I remember drinking tea in the kitchen with my Grandad one day (this was not unusual!) and him telling me about the time his Dad marched him up to the school and told them that he was no longer going to be attending because he was old enough to be working. That was his 14th birthday, and after that he learnt his trade for life...building.

"What health & safety!?"
Grandad helping his Dad, up on the rooftops of Widnes and Liverpool

He became a bricklayer and was one very busy guy from what I can tell. During the war he worked on Reserved Occupation, building bomb shelters in Liverpool - he used to say they couldn't even knock 'em down when the war was over, they were so strong. All the bants with Grandad, see. Then in 1941 he was called for Active Service with the 51st Highland Division, as part of the Royal Army Service Corps. He drove a truck and my God was he proud of it - he was responsible for transporting all sorts of things - ammo, supplies, folk and so on. He used to ask me ever since I was really tiny, "What's yer number?!" and I used to have to say "Ten sixty nine, ten seventy nine, 51st Highland Div"...that was his number, and neither of us ever forgot it. 

Speaks volumes...

The 51st Highland Div were a support unit to the 8th Armoured Division, the Desert Rats. Grandad spent a lot of his time in the desert in North Africa and though he never ever spoke of what he saw there, by all other accounts it was pretty fucking horrible. During his time in the Army he was in Belgium, Sicily, Germany, North Africa, France, and probably some other places too. His unit were the first into Bergen-Belsen after it was liberated and I can't even begin to imagine the horror he must've witnessed. Sometimes I wish that those were the memories he lost in his later years...though I very much doubt it. 

As I said, he never ever talked about any of this. We have put these pieces together from the very little we know. Most of it came from one incredible source...

One day, when my Dad was undertaking the MAMMOTH task of clearing out the out-buildings at the house in Runcorn, he came across something buried in the wall, tucked away like a time capsule. It had obviously been there a long time and was falling apart...

He opened it up to investigate...and realised he'd found my Grandad's bag from the war, and that it had been tucked away there for many years. Hidden? Perhaps...

Everything was still in it and in tact...letters from home, photos of his first nephew Geoffrey, his reserved occupation card, his letter calling him up for active service, his toothbrush, his sewing kit, kit badges, leaflets about all the different places he was going. Maps, albeit very very basic ones with very little detail obviously, documentation about getting your identity back after you'd been taken Prisoner of War, pristine Belgian francs, photos of people we don't recognise at all but who are probably friends of his, from when he was my age, away from home, no Whatsapp to check in with family, no way of knowing who was safe and where your loved ones were. As a generation we take far too much for granted, but I have always counted my blessings when I think of what my grandparents' generation experienced and lived through. We should all learn something about patience and perspective. At least we know where our loved ones are and that they are safe and well.

On a happier note, after the war he met this stunner. 

Hot stuff

That's my beautiful Nan, Mona. Enjoying the sunshine in Bournemouth in 1947. Look at that hair though! 

They met at the dance - got married in 1950 and my Dad was born in 1951. Grandad kept the receipts for the engagement and wedding rings he bought for my Nan...an old romantic, maybe...maybe just keeping his bases covered (lols), or possibly just a hoarder, because I also found the receipt for their fugly brown velvet three piece suite in the same box. 

Grandad and Nan, with my Great Grandmother "Nanna Gandy", my Great Auntie Rita and her husband Jack...the cheeky one at the back!

With my Dad on holiday adventures around the UK

Anyway, whatever the reason, The Last of the Great Romantics was married to my Nan for the rest of his long and generally healthy life. They look like they had plenty of good times and I have nothing but wonderful memories of the 12 years I spent living with them as a child. 

#Hairless

It wouldn't be fair to post this blog without also highlighting the love my Grandad felt for a bonfire. He bloody loved burning things, the pyromaniac. The fire brigade turned up at my parents' wedding because they thought the hill was on fire, but it was just my Grandad burning stuff. Thankfully my Nan was on hand to dish out tea and hotpot to the firemen, what a schmoozer! 

Why our neighbours hated us...

People speak of my Grandad with such admiration and respect. They talk of how fair he was in his business and what a gentle person he was; sure enough we still have people in their older years phoning the house to see if there's anyone we'd recommend to help them with building repairs, etc. It speaks volumes not only about how much people valued my Grandad's good work, but also about the fact that people can feel so vulnerable to being ripped off or taken advantage of in their later life. Again, perspective.

This is the last photo I have of them - they lived all their married lives together, latterly in their beautiful little bungalow in Winsford. Though my Nan was frail, she always had all her faculties and wits about her. Sharp as a tack, so she was, and incredibly house proud. My Grandad's memory was failing him by this time, but he was physically fit and healthy at the ripe old age of 91! They were a force to be reckoned with and were very independent. 

GAMMON. EGG. CHIPS. 

Though I'm glad they had each other for balance, there were certain things going on that we never really knew about. Grandad had a few "funny turns" over the previous couple of years, one of which I witnessed by chance because I was off school with flu. After Nan died it became clear that these weren't just down to old age, and we found he'd been having a series of mini strokes which lead on to him eventually being diagnosed with vascular dementia.

Grandad's life with dementia wasn't as tormenting as many other people's can be. He liked routine and was generally very healthy, getting himself up and going through the motions of getting washed and dressed, making his tea and toast for breakfast. But then he started doing this at crazy times of day. He used to seriously tell my Mum and Dad off for staying up late (I LOVE that, I love it so much, it's brilliant), and had a real struggle committing anything at all to his short term memory. 

He loved going for a walk every day - but then he started getting lost. He recognised this, which was part of the heartbreak, and eventually he just used to walk to the end of the drive way or a little distance along the road, but he never lost sight of the house because somehow he knew that he wouldn't be able to remember how to get home, or remember his address, or even who he lived with. He used to pocket handfulls of leaflets and pencils from hotels for some reason, and we're pretty sure he was shoplifting screws like an absolute trooper because unopened packs of B&Q's finest used to turn up in his coat pockets on a regular basis! 

Perhaps the saddest part for me was when he'd ask me how long I was visiting for...or the time he looked my Mum Margaret straight in the eye at the dinner table and asked her "where's Margaret?"...I remember the day he told me "my memory fails me sometimes" after asking me "and who are you?". I just used the word "Grandad" as many times as I possibly could so he knew who he was to me...so both of us could experience the love and connection for a moment, even if he wouldn't remember it. 

I said goodbye to Grandad at the bottom of our drive way one sunny day in 2007. He offered to walk me to the train station but that was a can of worms I was not going to be responsible for! I'm not sure if he knew who I was, but he was kind, warm and friendly. That is a lovely memory we shared, but one that I have to keep safe for the rest of my life, because sadly I knew that he couldn't. That was the last time I saw him - a choice I made because I wanted to have that lasting memory of him, nothing else. Several months later he died suddenly, following a massive stroke at home on an otherwise entirely normal day. 

More than anything else, I have indescribable respect for Grandad - I will never take for granted what I have, because without the sacrifices he made and the difficult experiences he lived through, our lives could have all been so different. We have a lot to be thankful for. Lest we forget. 

Now, I shared all this for a reason...please head to www.justgiving.com/tatty-narja-berlin to make a donation to Alzheimer's Society. I need to hit that £1,000! Not everyone is as fortunate as Frank was to have caring company around him during this confusing and unnerving time living with dementia. What's more, it can happen to anyone and there is currently no cure.

I'd also encourage you all now to share a memory about someone you have loved and lost. Share it in person with a friend, share a photo on Instagram, share a few words on Facebook, but share the memories because they are important and your loved ones will be grateful that you are taking such great care of those memories you built together. 

Lots of love and thanks, 
Nikki. xxx

Let me jog your memory...

Here we go again then.

After an eventful post-Marathon year, I decided to sign myself up for another really reeeeeally long run in September.

Whatever the reason, it's on.

At the end of last year I had to rest up good and proper, so this is my first foray back into the longer distances. Reasons = twofold. Firstly, I ran the Sure Run to the Beat in London in September and managed to do this:

That's one delightfully messed-up foot, including a squiffy cuboid and a couple of mashed metatarsals thrown in for good measure. It was sore and annoying, and took what felt like forever to heal. 

Secondly, for completely unrelated reasons, I had a small surgery and was written off running, swimming, cycling, lifting [read: no fun, not ever, none, just go forth and eat HobNobs, they said] for "four to six" weeks. So...four weeks then? 

But heal I did and my initial runs after a good 3 months went without incident, aside from gasping for dear life at the top of the Links hill and battling with some excruciatingly tight calves. Let's just say I've got loads of catching up to do. And the calf strain has been a bit of a pain to get rid of for some reason. But we're getting there. Nightmare. 

Since LA, I've run Edinburgh Half Marathon again, this time just for a bit of fun on a Sunday in torrential rain, and came in 17s from my PB. That was a bit annoying too, but at least I was reassured that I could still keep a decent time after very slow paced, long distance training runs for LA. 

Run to the Beat in September was great fun and again I had a fantastic group of people around that day which makes all the difference and is one of the main reasons I love running at events so much. 

The most fun I had at a run this summer though, Color Me RAD in Edinburgh. A great way to engage people with a running event that is ideal for all ages and abilities. I was so excited to see a fitness event that was so much fun and so inclusive. I hope that it is a great starter for people who will come along and see that running can be a great laugh and a great Sunday activity with friends. 

(See, the sun does shine in Scotland)

So after all this resting and a few little tentative forays into double figure mileage again earlier in the year, yes, there's obviously another Marathon on the horizon. Here's a little bit more about what I'm doing, and more importantly why...

Several weeks ago I forked out a reg fee and plotted out my training plan for the Berlin Marathon - but I don't really know why I'm even thinking about the running when I now have ALL THE FUNDRAISING to do. 

...*cue facepalm*...

Having "decided" that I don't do enough fundraising in my day job (woo, Aberlour!), I have opted to raise a whopping £1,000 for Alzheimer's Society, by myself, by running 26.2 long miles around Berlin. So, if I take care of all the running, I'd be so super grateful for your creative thoughts, donations and general support in reaching that fundraising target. 

Initially I wanted to run this marathon for the British Heart Foundation, especially this year as my Dad is facing a shedload of abject horror undergoing a triple heart bypass, aortic valve replacement and having a pacemaker fitted all in the same surgery. To say he's not looking forward to it would be an understatement. I also wanted to run it in memory of my beloved Nan who passed away 9yrs ago this summer and also underwent the same battle against coronary heart disease. 

I lived with my Nan and Grandad until I was 12, and my Nan was my first bff. The epitome of the ultimate bff: we baked, we dressed up, we ate cake. Nan also liked playing bingo. 

Everyone who knew my Nan will tell you how very special she was. So when her big, generous and beautiful heart finally stopped beating in July 2006 it was a massive loss to our tiny family. Thankfully I have many wonderful memories and I am reminded of her every single day. 

But unfortunately the British Heart Foundation spent two weeks ignoring the three emails, three phonecalls, Tweets and comedy Instagram selfies I sent them in a desperate attempt to get SOMEONE from the mahoosive fundraising team to get back to me and say "YES! We'd love you to fundraise a thousand pounds for our wonderful organisation!"

But that never happened. So they received another cranky email which has also been ignored. Just by the by, I find being completely ignored quite RUDE and a bit unnecessary. OH, and I also made a donation alongside my initial request for info, which was also duly ignored and I haven't had a jot of thanks. I pointed that out to them too. Get that on yer complaints return...yeah.

Shoddy. Let's hope their dedication to saving lives has a bit more urgency...

But then I gave the Alzheimer's Society a call and they were LOVELY. Very enthusiastic, welcoming and warm, and they gave me a marathon place right there and then on the spot.

This means I'm not only going to put myself through another round of marathon training...

...but I'm also committed to raising vital funds to support the amazing work of Alzheimer's Society and their partners right across the UK. I've done the miles for a marathon before (see previous blogs), and I'm telling you, it's hard work and takes a lot of sacrifice and will power. And yes, I fundraise for a living, but this is very very different and it's going to be hunners o'work to reach my target. 

I picked Alzheimer's Society because both of my grandfathers suffered with dementia in their later life. My maternal grandfather Ken passed away when I was little, and my Mum endured the long and upsetting process of losing her wonderful Dad countless times towards the end of his life. 

And then there's my grandad Frank, my old pal!! 

Look at hiiiiim, being all brilliant.

We only really noticed Grandad's dementia after my Nan died...they'd functioned so well as they grew older together, and they'd spent all their married life together in the same home. So as frustrated as my Nan used to get with him about his "ignoring her all the time", neither my parents nor I really understood what Grandad was going through until my Nan wasn't around to be the yin to his yang, if you know what I mean.

I am an only child, so is my Mum, so is my Dad, so was my Nan. I have no grandparents left now, I've never had aunties or uncles, no cousins, no nieces and nephews, just me and my folks. We were all with Nan when she passed away, and as I walked along the hospital corridor linking my 91yr old Grandad's arm afterwards, he stopped in his tracks and said to me "So, is she gone?!" - I explained again...yes. "Well, who's going to look after me now?"

It broke my heart to see this quiet, fair and lovely old man panicking, recognising that he needed someone to take care of him but only now having to confront and communicate that to us for the first time. They'd both grown old so gracefully, but in that moment I realised that my Grandad was very scared of being alone.

Needless to say, he wasn't alone - he moved in with my parents and my Mum accompanied him to many doctor's appointments until he finally gained a diagnosis of dementia in 2006. During this time he got up most nights to go looking for my Nan...eventually we started telling him that she had gone nextdoor and had said for him to just go to bed and she'd be back soon. It was gentler than watching him lose her over and over and over again.

But not everyone is as fortunate as to have people around them at this stage in life. 

In addition, caring for someone with dementia as they deteriorate is hard, and it can be very lonely without any wider support. So that's one of the reasons why the Alzheimer's Society is so important to me - more families need the proper guidance, support and recognition to remind everyone affected by dementia that they are not alone. It was a really tough time for my folks.

With this in mind, I'm going to need as much support as I can get from you guys so here I am kindly asking for your help in the shape of sponsorship and joining in with a summer of fun. That doesn't sound too bad, does it? 

I'll be hosting a variety of retro/memory themed activities and events over the summer, including a bbq and some live music - and I'll be encouraging lots of you to "Jog Your Memory" with me in Holyrood Park...all will be revealed!

In honour of my Nan's love for a good old cream cake, I'll also be holding "Nana's Afternoon Cream Tea Party", and calling on all of you who have businesses to buy a patch on my running vest (trust me, marathon runners spend a LOT of time reading the back of other runners' vests), oh, and carting my trusty sponsorship form to the pub on a regular basis. Just the price of a couple of pints will help me on my way - and most of all, you will have my heartfelt thanks and appreciation for your support. I know and understand that we are all asked for sponsorship on an unbearably frequent basis, but I promise I won't ask again - this is the one. This time.

You can sponsor me now, here.

As you can imagine this is a really personal challenge for me, and I hope that you lovely people will be so kind as to dig deep and help a sista out. I'm not adverse to acting as a taxi service on nights out (I am cheaper than CityCabs), I will cook for you, bake for you, I'll take you to COSTCO if you like...you name it, I'll (within reason!) do it for a donation to my sore legs fund 2015. 

That's enough for one evening. Thank you already. I love you. Leave the (majority of the) running to me and I'll try my best to make y'all proud.

For now, I'm sending all my love,
Nikki. xxx

"That was the week that was"...

I don't think I'll ever have a week in my life quite like the week commencing Monday 3rd March 2014.

On the Monday afternoon I secured a title sponsorship deal for Aberlour's corporate fundraising event taking place in September. I was so overwhelmed I was shaking with excitement. I came out of the meeting and went straight into House of Fraser to buy myself a Radley travel thingy that I'd had my eye on for weeks. The spirit of Karen McMurrich lives on, fundraisers...

But, no time to celebrate, for that evening I had to get home and prepare for a presentation and interview the following morning...one which would secure a promotion if it all went well. It did. I got a killer promotion. But again, the wine was going to have to wait.

By the Tuesday evening, my head was lodged so thoroughly up my own ass I didn't know what was going on. I was surprised, excited, tired, inspired, grateful and nervous all at the same time. And this was before I'd even packed for going to LA...the following day.

So yes, I took my lovely man for a birthday dinner at Sushiya (along with Kan Pai, best sushi in Edinburgh) and tried my best to stay awake throughout Monuments Men. It was an entertaining little ditty and it distracted me from all the many butterflies I was experiencing. Meh.

That night, at 3am, I bid Handsome Man farewell and left for Los Angeles on my lonesome.

Needless to say, LA is amazing. Not only was it immediately 25degrees warmer than Scotland is in March, but it was big, new and brimming with incredibly beautiful people. My first port of call was Marmalade Cafe for a kale-tastic lunch so I was happy already. I arrived at my gorgeous apartment and by the Saturday I had been joined by my two best friends who both live on a different continent. I rarely get to see them, so this was an emotional and wonderful treat.

Then we got down to business...to the Race Expo! We piled into Tully's car (affectionately known as "Sugarmama" - and honestly, that baby bounces) on Saturday morning and headed to the Exhibition Centre in Downtown LA. Asics did an amazing job of kitting out the space and the DJ was churning out some tunes to get everyone pumped. It was working, because the atmosphere was just awesome. They had a lot of discounted stock too...ahem...

After buying about $300 worth of running gear (everyone knows it's easier to run when you're wearing a marathon t-shirt, right?) we went to Abbot Kinney in Venice for lunch. This is where the true ridiculousness of LA came to light for me. Obviously I was running a marathon in less than 24hrs time so it was definitely carbs-o'clock. No doubt. But getting carbs in a place like Abbot Kinney is a challenge not to be sniffed at. When I asked for a portion of bread with my spinach salad you'd have thought I'd asked for a human head with my spinach salad. Confusion abounds. But I took what I could get...two tiny pieces of toasted "bread" that had likely never seen wheat in their life. But don't get me wrong; it was all delicious and to be honest I was perfectly happy watching all the beautiful people walk past the window. :) Shame you can't carb load from doing that.

So then I went to Ralph's and bought a box of wholewheat pasta which I promptly cooked and devoured.

And then I set up my gear for race day...

The clocks went forward an hour, just to piss us all off and keep things really interesting, and at 4am my alarm chimed and I kitted myself up for the awesome drive through LA in Sugarmama to the Dodgers Stadium. The Rocky soundtrack was blaring away in full force, and the girls dropped me at the stadium feeling PUMPED UUUPPP. They then went to Target and drove a mobility scooter around the place, stocking up on flourescent card and helium balloons. But that is a story for another day...

Needless to say, the start line was also amazing. What an atmosphere and I was part of it. Sap, sap...yes, I know...

A whopping sixteen minutes after the gun went off, I crossed the startline with some other 25,000 runners, but having said that, the corrals worked really well for feeding runners in to the start line. At this point it wasn't too hot and I was just enjoying the route (perhaps not enjoying some of the very curious smells in Chinatown at 8am, I'll admit) and soaking up the sound of rubber vs tarmac. Now, within the first 3miles we'd encountered four preachers with megaphones - I was nervous about how much of a theme that was going to become, but by Mile 6 they'd made way for some absolutely incredible crowd support that just wouldn't quit, right up to the finish line.

I can't believe I'd never heard the phrase "You got this!" before. It was a bit of a mantra by the time Mile 10 approached.

I'd expected a wall at Mile 22ish...so I was devastated when I had to walk through an aid station at Mile 15. All that hard work in training and I was walking already?! I can't describe that disheartening feeling, knowing I still had 11miles to run and the sun was getting higher in the sky with every step I took. Walking. I mean I'd pick up a run for the most of each mile, but it's the mental punishment that you serve yourself when you walk that is tough to shake. By Westwood and Century City, it was a toasty 28degrees and there was barely a sliver of shade. Breeze? You must be joking. It was hot. I was feeling quite sad and wanted to have done better.

So thank God for my cheering squad at Mile 19! I spotted Maya with balloons and banners and we all jumped around making a variety of shouty/screamy noises, not unlike how I imagine teenagers sound when they get Prom Queen...or whatever. I was pep-talked, hugged, doused in water, blinded by the salt that ran into my eyes with said water, and sent off on my merry way again...but not before a quick photo op:

The Support Crew at Mile "Nineteen for Nikki"...

After that, the miles flew by and I really settled into the race and my slower than usual pace of about 12mins per mile. But I barely cared at this point and I concentrated on just enjoying it all. I got into a routine of walking through the aid stations to refill my water bottle (let me tell you, best thing I ever did was take that with me...nothing worse than needing water and having to wait for an aid station) then as soon as I passed the last water table I picked it back up into a run to the next mile marker, and so on.

Arrowhead had provided water at every mile, and I couldn't fault the nutrition that was available. I took my own gels and tabs, but it was great to see Gatorade, CLIF and Arrowhead all out there along the route to keep runners fuelled up on such a hot day. Those volunteers were all amazing and everyone was so friendly and polite - they did a fantastic job and should be so proud of themselves. We couldn't have done it without those hundreds and hundreds of generous volunteers. 

The last 5miles were a joy and with the finish line in sight I ran as fast as I could (well, it felt like sprinting) and crossed it in a reasonably respectable 5hrs 31mins. A good 40mins slower than I really wanted, but pretty good for a first attempt in SURFACE OF THE SUN style weather. 

I was given a space blanket immediately (Seriously? I was ON. FIRE. by this point. Why?!), and offered bagels (I went with the blueberry one, seemed interesting) along with a range of intriguing salty, cheesy, salty, salty biscuity fish shaped things in bags and loads of bottles of water (THANK YOU AGAIN, ARROWHEAD). My girls were all there waiting for me and then it was "feet up a palm tree" time. NB: waaaaay better than "feet-up-a-wall" or "feet-up-the-side-of-the-fridge" time. 

Alongside the personal achievement I ran to raise some awareness and funds for SA-YES, an international befriending organisation. This is my sponsorship page and tells you a bit more about why. It was great to hear people shouting "SA-YES, YOU GOT THIS!!" along the route, all thanks to my super running vest made by Kustom Clothing. Although I'm short of target with the fundraising, I'm not disappointed or deterred and I'm grateful for the kind support shown to me by friends of SA-YES and Julie in the events team. Here's to your great organisation crossing the finish line of the 2014 LA Marathon - I'm proud I could be the one to carry it those 26.2miles...

Trotting past Whisky a Go-Go

AWFUL finish line shot - thanks for that terrible angle, Marathon-foto!

With my prized bling and Santa Monica Pier in the background. 

What else can I say about the LA Marathon? The route takes in all the LA hitlist including Dodgers Stadium, Hollywood Walk of Fame, Hollywood and Vine, the Hollywood sign, Beverly Hills, Rodeo Drive, House of Blues, WeHo and Santa Monica, finishing with the Pacific Ocean, eyes right. After looking at a lot of international marathons, it's a tough one to top. As I mentioned, the Asics expo was great and the branded running gear on offer was of equal high standards. The volunteers and aid stations were amazing, and the crowd support was unlike anything I've ever, ever experienced before. I'm wondering if I can hire people to cheer me on while I walk to work in the mornings..? I GOT THIS!

I didn't see the post-race village, I was too busy with my feet in the air to get there. But I'm sure it was all sorts of aces.

Crossing the finish line of a marathon is a surreal experience. I never thought I'd be the person to do it, but here we are. And today is the first time I've felt a twinge of the famous post-race come-down. In the space of a week I got a major sponsorship deal, a promotion and I ran a marathon on the other side of the world; that kind of emotional high definitely leaves you susceptible to a pretty major come-down.

People are asking me if I'll run another marathon. I don't know yet. Maybe. But nothing will ever feel like that week felt. Having my best girls around me, cheering me on and having total faith in me, was something I'm not going to forget. I wonder what I can ever do to thank them for being part of the best day in my life so far.

But GO to LA. Seriously. It's good fun...

All my love and thanks to everyone who has listened to my endless running chat, encouraged me when I was tired, comforted me when I was stressed and celebrated with me when I got back home to Edinburgh. It's been the journey of a lifetime and I hope at least one person reading this is inspired to go out and live their dream too. 

If you work hard, it'll come. 

TN. xxx