"Yarp..? Narrrrrrp"

I sat for over an hour last night, and have been sat for another 45mins this morning, trying to plan out a 17-18mile route that doesn't include that god-forsaken stretch of Portobello promenade and Brunstane Burn that I pound out every weekend...because I swear, if I have to run that stretch one more time, I'm going to lose the will to live. 

I had to take a time out to write this down because I guess it's just another aspect of marathon prep that people don't really notice or think about. I always say that being sponsored to run a marathon isn't really about the race at all...it's all the prep and arduous hours it takes to get to race day. This frustrating, head-in-hands process is one of the more mentally challenging things to contend with.

#Frustratesballs

It sounds like such a silly thing to say - surely running is running and it's always boring, no matter where you run, right? Well, not if you really enjoy running and you have to run a really long way on a regular basis. Imagine watching the same film every Saturday morning ten weeks in a row. Then watch the same episode of the same show four times a week on top of that. Sounds like it would get pretty boring pretty quickly, right? 

That's exactly how I'm feeling - except I can't seem to find a new film to watch. I'm doing the equivalent of sitting in front of the Netflix menu for two hours when you can't quite come up with anything you feel comfortable committing to, so you end up just watching Hot Fuzz again because it's on the telly anyway.

Yarrp. 

My way of phrasing it is this: the hardest line that you'll cross in a marathon isn't the finish line, it's the start line. 

Once race day arrives you're all set. You've done all the hard work, all the preparation and training; you've got fresh legs, the route is brand new and exciting and the atmosphere will carry you through no matter what. But running for 3-4 solid hours, alone, every weekend before that point is potentially soul destroying if you don't keep things interesting. 

So I'm probably going to end up running the same route as usual in an hour's time, the thought of which is already bringing me close to tears this morning. It doesn't really bode well for my mental focus when the fatigue starts to kick in. 

I don't have a witty answer to my conundrum this week. I'm genuinely feeling deflated and just needed to share the downs as well as the ups with you all while on this marathon journey. These are the harder days, and though I usually have a silver lining to share, all I'm seeing today is a big fat moody cloud ready to rain all over me as soon as I leave the flat.

I did however score some free £10 socks from Lulu Lemon this week after popping in for a look round and an obligatory schmooze with the handsome sales assistant. Winning. All in the name of "product testing" apparently - I'll take them for a spin and deliver my verdict. I also painted my nails with some suitably Deutsch farben to keep me motivated for Berlin. Saddo Ganders ought to get out more.

                  

Go faster stripes

Lulu Lemon freebies!

I'd love to see a few more donations popping up on my JustGiving page if we can. I'm now into my 60 alcohol free days before race day, so if you think I deserve a pint after an 18mile run this weekend, please please please just donate the price of that pint to Alzheimer's Society instead. It really will make all the difference, seeing as I'm now on a nutrition plan that sadly omits ALL THE TASTY TASTY BEER.

Your sponsorship genuinely helps me to stay positive and focused when out on these long, hard runs at the weekend. I'm committed to raising £1,000 for Alzheimer's Society in order to run Berlin Marathon, so please consider donating a cheeky few pounds while payday is fresh in our pockets!

Thank you so much as always to everyone who has supported my fundraising and tolerated my dull running chat so far - time to get my trainers on for y'all! 

Nik. xxx

...'mon the mileage (and other tales of Tullymead2015)...

No blog update for a MONTH?! Deplorable behaviour, I know.

See, I've been off gallivanting the length and breadth of the UK, with a little jaunt to bella Italia thrown in for good measure. Yyyeah, haters gon' hate, but you know me - in for a penny, and all that.

Here's a fun fact for fellow Scotlanders though: turns out that it's very warm and sunny in the far reaches of the south of England. Even though I'd scheduled a 2-3week break from running (under AC's guidance of "just do what you can") I managed to get out for a few toasty 10ks here and there because I just couldn't resist it. I wonder if I was a reptile in a previous life, if not a solar panel, because the sunshine really spurs me on to run hard and run long. 

The break did me good. Although I did hit a moment of sad realisation while out for a run in sunny Runcorn...

"Sad realisation"
...such that I made a face not dissimilar to this one...

I'm know I'm completely spoilt running in Edinburgh, surrounded by equally active people in a city that facilitates all kinds of fitness escapades despite the grim weather. I only need to be out of the house for two minutes before I pass people strolling home in their gym kits, dedicated cyclists burning the week off, fellow runners in various states of disarray; for the most part I'm surrounded by like-minded souls and it feels like a safe environment to undertake my hobby. 

I was out running for an hour in Runcorn, and I passed a grand total of three other people exercising. Add to that the fact I had van drivers beep their horn at me on two separate occasions and got knobbishly cat-called by a guy at the car wash, who was duly accosted and will hopefully think twice before offering his unsolicited opinion again. 

Dick. 

Would he have told a man they had a "LOVELY ARSE!"..? I'm gonna take a bold guess at no. 

I know I should just suck it up and get on with it, but it's behaviour like this that shakes the very foundations of my enjoyment for running and makes pressing for social justice feel like a waste of time. And not just mine, I'm sure. It's hardly surprising no-one is out being active if that's the default reaction, and in fairness it's a shame that seeing someone out on a run in the sunshine is a novelty. 

Anyway, my point is that it was just all really sad, and it touched upon several social problems all in one short hour of my life. Aside from the momentary rage, it made me feel very fortunate to live somewhere as inspiring as Edinburgh, and to have encouragement and activity all around.

On top of this I had the opportunity to spend a day with my Auntie Bessie at the house she's lived in since 1950. It's pristine and like a beautiful time capsule. Bessie's 93 this year and still going strong - her independence and positivity inspires me so much. She says her secret is to just keep doing things the way she's always done them and hope for the best. She helps out at the church every weekend, referring to it as "going to work", which is so admirable and speaks volumes about her commitment to an active and fulfilling life. I want one of those when I'm 93. 

I also saw my wonderful friends Carly and Jonny tie the knot in the Cotswolds, spent a few days with my family in Cheshire, some precious time with my best friend Tully at her unfathomably awesome wedding in Hertfordshire, and enjoyed the hot hot heat of Tuscany with 18 other people who I hope will remain firm friends for a long time to come. Not much time for actual running, but it was a game-changer of a trip in different ways as far as running is concerned...

I think that meeting new people is important to all of us, but I didn't appreciate quite how motivating it would be to me at this point of training for my second marathon. I appreciate that all of my friends at home must be sick of the sound of me, so it was nice to gain fresh perspective from people I had just met. 

Summarising my running forced me to understand and embrace my identity as a runner much more clearly; I feel like I've turned a corner into something resembling a "proper runner" instead of just someone who "isn't very good but is a tryer". So thank you for all the kind encouragement, people of #Tullymead2015 (Kat, I'll see you for Boston in a decade or so...)!

The ladies of #TullymeadItalia
(minus the wonderful Kim, love love)

Don't get me wrong, I came back with the most epic of post-holiday comedowns, but I was equally spurred on to get my Chianti-addled butt straight back into the zone for Berlin.

Getting back out for my first long run after a two week break was pleasantly painless. I zipped around a 14.5mile Sunday run and felt fresh for having had the rest. Perhaps I got a tad ahead of myself though, as yesterday I almost called it quits a couple of times. Fresh legs, they were not. 

A taxi to my front door was a definite brain-worm at Mile 13, when it became quite clear that I'd not taken on nearly enough fuel or water the previous couple of days. Apparently Prosecco and cheese isn't the best pre-run plan for 16.5miles. 

Funny, that...

But it's done. No taxi required. And next week will be better. Despite it all, I still had finish-line smiles for my mother (she likes to know I've survived and not been hit by a bus, fallen into a canal, got into another rammy with a cat-caller, hospitalised myself or anyone else, etc, etc)...

Happily drowning myself in disgusting chocolate milk.
Standard.

Do not be fooled, however - this was all just a cleverly-concealing mask of endorphins. The crash came pretty swiftly afterwards. I thought about blogging last night, but this one-way exchange of sentiments with my friend Sam suggests I perhaps wasn't in the right mind-frame to be writing about "the joys" of marathon running:

We know you hate us anyway, and we are sorry.

Pretty much sums things up for you. Less than nine weeks until race-day now, and this is the point when I start to lose the ability to form coherent sentences by a Friday afternoon. If nothing else my colleagues and poor, long-suffering companion Tom will be glad when all my nonsense is over for another year. 

Why am I putting myself through all this again? Oh YES, that's right, because I AM FUNDRAISING for a fantastic organisation who do amazing work. 

Did I mention that I am fundraising..? Oh, yeah, I totally am...I have a JustGiving page and everything. No no, really, I do. You should go and check it out...mebbes pop some pennies in there to ease the pain of having to run even further next week...and further after that...and even further after that. Just saying. 

While I was at home in Cheshire I had a lovely dinner with my old music teacher Jill (yes everyone, Mrs P!) who, funnily enough, now works for Alzheimer's Society. Jill runs a few Singing for the Brain groups - just one of the creative ways in which Alzheimer's Society provides community-based, therapeutic support for those living with dementia, and their families. 

In all seriousness, I'd be so grateful for your kind sponsorship towards this great cause that is important to me, especially after losing my treasured grandad, Frank. More details of Alzheimer's Society's work can be found on their website here. 

That's enough drivel for this week. I'm off to wrap myself in waterproofs and bask in Edinburgh's great dreichness...

I love you! xxx

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