Typing up the first blog has turned my 'puter into a 1980s relic. In fact, quite frankly, it is something that is running slower than me - which is a miracle in itself. Therefore I'm starting a fresh post about my preparation for the Cotswolds Running Festivals 5k race. June 25 Sadventure Completed June 26 With a last minute cancellation, and a rare dry June day, I really had no excuses not to run. Especially, for once, my legs felt 'fine'. And pleased I did because I ran R

Started it on Saturday. Fell asleep. Had a nightmare. Yet to find out why... --- "Why is your cat called Nelson?" "Because I had a dream" "Surely, his name should be Martin though?" "It doesn't really matter what he's called. He ignores it anyway." Both Nelson and I are dreamers. Nelson sleeps for England. So do I. Unless Nelson is hungry. What I've never really thought about is why I dream, and whether I should take them more seriously. This book, however, is absolu

What others might call meditation, I call lying on the floor contemplating what to make for dinner or how to fix all my life's problems in a day, depending on my mood. I am to spend thirty consecutive days of doing some form of meditation properly. Apparently, lying in the bath is not the correct way of doing it. "To sit for twenty minutes a day unless you're very busy, then you should sit for an hour." I'm told. I'm just grateful that it doesn't involve running, climbing

Like many women, I have struggled with depression periodically. And anxiety - although I didn't realised for a very long time that how I felt was not normal. Nor did I realise just how inhibiting the latter can be. I think anyone who has suffered with depression is familiar with the futility of how life appears. The sheer exertion of getting dressed, having a shower, holding a conversation. It is not, at least for me, a sense of sadness. It is despair. Abject despai

"Run 5 or 8 k in August at the Cotswolds running festival. It’s also a weekend of camping with a festival attached and should be fun! See how the health-nut halves live and entertain themselves" It's the Cotwolds twenty-four hour race and I am to waddle it. Apparently, going to festivals in one's middle years is a sure symptom of a mid-life crisis. The furthest I've run in recent years is from the front door to the loo: a distance of three steps. Cripes! On the plus, it's a