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Why Run Nic Nac Run?

Where did the name @runnicnacrun come from? It’s kind of obvious really but it’s the meaning behind it that resonates. Well it all started ten years ago when I took part in the 2011 London Marathon.

When I was young my parents and brothers called me Nic Nac Noos. Mixed with loving Forest Gump #runforestrun and the fact I have always loved running too. The name was a no brainer.

Fast forward ten years little did I know that there was to be even more meaning behind the name. I used running and many other activities to get me through my cancer diagnosis. It was crucial to me. It played such a leading role in the events and fundraising that was to be part of my therapy.

I have always loved running. When I was young I was super fast. Very fast in fact. Running was in the family so it was second nature. Mixed with a competitive streak I was hard to catch. I really was like Forest Gump. I could have ran all day.

As an adult running has always been there. Sometimes intense for training and volumes of events and sometimes more casual. But it remains a staple throughout my life. And I am so grateful for that. I am so proud that I have kept it going after all these years.

Running is not always easy for me. It can be really demanding and impossible at times. Or it can be hard work. It can be painful. On the flip side it can be easier and nicer and seem less of a chore. I always set out with the aim of enjoying it. But sometimes that doesn’t happen.

Either way the end goal is the same. To feel the satisfaction and euphoria of completing a run is out of this world. Just amazing. Whatever the speed or the distance. Whether I complete what I had set out to achieve and have to amend. Whether it didn’t go to plan. It’s all awesome. All movement is absolutely blimin awesome.

Ultimately I love the challenge of running. I love how it makes me feel. I love that I was able to run through so much physical and mental torture. I love the fact that I haven’t given up. I love looking forward to my next event, next challenge, next leisurely run and where my running will take me next.

I also love as I have got older knowing when to stop. When to take a break. When to rest my precious body and mind to reset ready for the next installment.

@runnicnacrun isn’t just about running. It’s an ethos. To keep at it. Perserver. Be resilient. Even when hurdles are placed in the way I keep going. I may not be as fast as what I used to be but my life is still filled with the magic that my younger self had. A life filled with so much adventure and living life to the max every single day.

Yes. Another day.

Every morning I wake up and my first thought it “Yes. Another day”. Another day  to make of it what I want. Another day of my beautiful life. Another day to enjoy.

Every morning this thought, is more often than not, swiftly followed by a whistle stop tour of my brain thinking of how far I’ve come and what I’ve achieved.

And what I still want to achieve. It’s exciting to think of the possibilities.

However, sometimes the mind and body can play tricks into thinking that I can’t do or achieve. The inner spirit of passion and positivity rises like Phoenix from the flames when this thought process kicks in. Self-doubt being swiftly kicked to the kirb. And quite rightly so.

I’ll never quit trying. And I’ll never quit wanting to live the life I aspire to live and live life to the ultimate max. I have to remember, always, that I can do and I can achieve.

It’s that heart-warming feeling of desire, the fire in the soul of being driven, the adventurous side of me wanting to play, the competitive side saying “do not quit”.

A bit of self-reflection is always good for the soul. I love looking back and seeing how far I’ve come. How much I’ve grown. The colourful array of accomplishments and achievements. The suffering I’ve had to endure alongside this. The pain. And how I got through it all. It’s not easy at all. All this makes me super proud.

What we can do when we put our minds to it. Every day I wake up and think “Yes. Another day”❤

#anotherday #dontquit #selfreflection #selflove #survivor #lifeaftercancer #keepgoing #perserverance #focus #celebration #achievement #selfdevelopment #lovelife  #livethelifeyouaspiretolive #livelifetothemax #runnicnacrun

My beautiful life

Out on a run today with my husband cycling alongside me. My heart beating fast. Absorbing the stunning countryside. Taking in all nature’s beauty. It’s times like these that always highlight to me how I should always count my lucky stars. I always know how lucky I am. And I will never ever forget……

How lucky I am to be able to run
How lucky I am to live where I do
How lucky I am to have an awesome husband
How lucky I am to be fit, strong and healthy
How lucky I am to be surrounded by love
How lucky I am to be empowered to be me
How lucky I am to lead a fabulous life
How lucky I am to know right from wrong
How lucky I am to experience being in love
How lucky I am to have survived cancer
How lucky I am to be alive

#forevergrateful #lucky #mybeautifullife

Short Story 1

As I gazed down the hospital bed, a sense of trepidation came flooding over me. What was I about to see? As the surgeon peeled back the thick bandage, I was soon presented with one of my surgery wounds. The bandage was removed, and I was there, looking down at my unrecognisable leg. I let out a painful cry like never before. My leg that had seen me dance for years. The leg that had seen me win so many races. The same leg that had travelled the world. The leg that had taken me on so many adventures. My beautiful, slim, toned, powerful left leg all bloodied and battered. A massive bright red line from my hip to my knee of a deep wound. It looked so brutal from my angle. Drains hanging out. Looking down my leg from the hospital bed was a vision that has stayed in my mind since. It will never leave.

My sporty athletic leg cut into. Scarred forever. It looked so scary. So raw. So shocking. I was utterly heartbroken. But it needed to be. That was the first time I had seen the result of an intrinsic operation that my surgeon had performed. The surgeon that had painstakingly given me his precious professional time in helping me. In making me better. I loved this man. So why was I crying at his marvellous work of magnificent beauty. I had gotten through another major operation and all was well. I was making good progress. There was so much to be grateful for.

I had got used to seeing scars on my body by that time. In fact, I love my scars. Every single one. They are a part of me, representing something so powerful. That I survived cancer. But nothing prepares you for seeing a fresh new wound where once your skin was unscathed. Even more so if you really liked that body part. I quite liked my legs.

When I had gotten over the shock of seeing my ruby red limb my tears swiftly turned to smiles. My surgeon did not want to see me cry. Especially as the operation had been such a massive success. I was healing well. My partial mastectomy was healing nicely too. The plastic surgery had been an almighty triumph. I knew this. He knew this. He was so gentle and kind that day. And I knew this man needed my gratitude as well as dealing with my pain. My leg was needed to help my breast. And that is exactly what it did.

It was only a few months earlier that I had been celebrating my 40th birthday. A succession of partying, nights out and vibrant times with all my loved ones. Family and friends came together, in unity to dance the night away for my big occasion. I was also celebrating getting to the end of the most mammoth charity challenge. A challenge which had seen me conquer events and activities that would push me mentally and physically for eighteen months. I was on fire. I was so strong. So fit. So healthy. Living life to the max. Looking forward to my future. Looking forward to having children. And then boom.

A reoccurrence. No-one can say this for sure, but I had a gut feeling. I knew deep down when I was referred for scanning and then biopsies that all was not good. I hoped in my heart of hearts that it was not back. With every ounce of my being, I did not want to hear negative news. But I knew they had found something. I remember crying so hard that day as the nurse held my hand. Not again. Please not again. My skin being punctured three times to claim the tissue they required. I knew. I was prepared.

The weeks that followed were horrendous. I had already had a bilateral mastectomy a few years earlier, with tissue being taken from my stomach. I had had a skin sparring mastectomy which meant the original skin was left. It was under this skin that another diagnosis was found. A DCIS in a triangle shape going from my nipple to my armpit. There were various options to help me but the one that scared me the most was that they might have to remove my right breast. I had gone through so much with my previous operation. I really did not want this to be the answer. I quite liked my boobs. And now they were going to be put through their paces again.

As the oncology and breast care team at my local hospital communicated with my surgeons at my other hospital where I had previously been treated, I dealt with this the only way I knew how. I signed up for a marathon. A running marathon that I was to do with my mother. Taking in the stunning scenery and spectacular countryside of the Suffolk coast. I knew that building up to such a big run would help me leading up to my operation. It would take my mind off things. It would keep me focused. It is with this that I was affectionately known as Marathon Girl in the hospitals.

My mum and I got to the start. It was painfully emotional. We knew we had a big job ahead. The marathon we had chosen was a tough one with the coastal winds, varying landscapes and multi terrains. We were both determined to do it. And that is exactly what we did. Despite the major operation looming and the trauma this had caused to me and my loved ones, we got round that course. A plethora of emotions whirling through our minds. It was draining. It was demanding. It was exhilarating. It was funny. It was horrific in places. It was sticking two fingers up to cancer. We crossed that finish line so exhausted but so happy. So proud.

I remember vividly saying goodbye to the leg I once knew as the anaesthetic worked its magic. My anaesthetist was the one who came up with ‘Marathon Girl’. He was a cool, quirky man who I loved chatting to. Full of charm and a wonderful presence in the room. With him on my left side and one of my surgeons on my right I fell asleep holding hands with the people who would save my breast. I was putting my life in the hands of so many other people. I trusted them and knew all would be ok but a part of me was concerned that the surgery would go well, and I would wake from my sleep. My last memory being a tear rolling down the side of my face before all went dark.

Fast forward four years and every day I look at the scar on my left leg with pride. A daily reminder that my leg played such a crucial role in my last operation. The leg that helped my breast. The scar is still of considerable size, but it has faded so much. A faint line carved into my leg with a little bump where the drain had sat. It is still numb in places and still feels strange when someone touches it. Since my last operation I have participated in a vast array of events, challenges, and activities. My legs leading me through and completing some of the most exciting adventures ever. A marathon in the garden and the Three Peaks Challenge on my stairs just goes to show how far my leg has come. How far I have come.

It is a funny feeling knowing that my breasts are made up of stomach and leg tissue and skin. I adore my body for what it has been through. Every single part of it. Every day I look down at my leg and it stirs up emotion. Of how I am eternally grateful for my precious life and for what my body continues to achieve every day. And I will always relish in the fact that, despite I do not do them all the time, that I was known as ‘Marathon Girl’.

Childlessness on Mother’s Day

I’ve woken up this morning and I haven’t cried. The first time on Mother’s Day in seven years. Yay. It’s a big thing for me. I’m a bit confused. Why? Am I at peace? It’s a rarity on this occasion. I feel it’s a turning point for sure. I’m not saying there might not be tears somewhere today. But waking up on Mother’s Day feeling content and in love with the life I have is just an awesome feeling. I don’t cry all the time. In fact I’m a very happy person who laughs a lot. But days and events like today always have that tsunami of power to trigger my emotions linked to childlessness.

Waking up on Mother’s Day always stirs a real mixture of emotions. As it does for many many others. For me, it’s always about the conflict in my mind, body and soul of what the day represents to me. I’ve learnt to go with the flow with my feelings. There is no right or wrong. It’s a very personal feeling to me. I can feel how I want. I can think what I want. I am in control of my feelings.

I am very lucky and fortunate enough to have a mother I can celebrate Mother’s Day with. A woman who has always been completely selfless, so strong, so compassionate, so intelligent, so kind. All through my life she has been the one to lead the way alongside my father. Someone I look up to and admire and forever inspired by all that she achieves. It is because of my mother that I wanted to be a mother. I wanted to be like her. I still do. She is everything I wanted to be.

I am also very lucky and fortunate to have a lovely mother-in-law. The jokes about this area have never applied to her and never will. She’s kind, considerate, thoughtful and had always made me feel special as part of her family. She too is one of the strongest people I know.

I am also very lucky to be called a step-mum. I have a gorgeous step-daughter who is 23 years old. A stunning young lady who makes me feel so very proud every day. I came into her life when she was 7 years old and we have a wonderful relationship ever since. She has taught me so much in life without even realising it. A free spirit who is intelligent and so very kind. I am blessed.

I am also the proud owner of two precious doggies who are so demanding they come across like children a lot of the time. I love them unconditionally and they do the same to me. Their loyalty, love and affection knows no bounds. I feel like a mother to them. I am a mother to them. They need me and I need them.

I have so much in my life to be so very grateful for. So many I know do not have any of the above. My heart breaks for them. I can’t take away their pain but I can tell them how much I love them and there for them. And that is what causes the conflict in my mind and heart about Mother’s Day. Feeling love, feeling grateful, feeling happy, feeling lucky and feeling blessed. All these emotions of positivity and joy. But then it’s mixed with feelings of sadness, grief, loss, disappointment, pain and guilt.

I have mastered the art of allowing my thought processes to be at ease with multiple feelings at once. After all it is possible. We all have the ability to do this. I know that I can have an array of feelings, some of which are complete polar opposites, all at the same time and it’s ok. To be at one with emotions and feelings and to let it be with an acceptance is a powerful place to be in.

Since my diagnosis in 2013, the aspect of giving birth, being pregnant and being a biological mother has been at the forefront of my mind. We always wanted children but we did not anticipate that cancer would cruelly take away that opportunity. We were young and in love and wanted to be parents together. It has been a gut- wrenchingly painful and agonising situation to be in. I have howled in sheer pain and trauma at not having this opportunity. Some days it has felt like torture. Some days I have felt a failure for not being a biological mother. That I’ve let down my husband and my family. After all it wasn’t just me that lost out. This is a side to cancer recovery that very few see or hear about. It can be brutal.

The guilt I feel for the feelings I have had are still there. I have a mum, a mother-in-law, a step-daughter, two dogs. So I should be grateful right? And keep quiet. I am so very grateful for what I have in my life. But it doesn’t take away the enormous grief I feel everyday. It’s a constant sense of what could have been. How cruel cancer can be. But that I am alive and healthy and that is to be celebrated. So I deal with my grief and sadness. It is an intrinsic part of my makeup now but it does not define me. It has simply made me stronger and able to be there for others going through a similar thing. It has put me in a position where I can mentor and coach those going through similar experiences.

Childlessness, like a lot of events in our lives is a hidden grief. After all I have not lost someone. But what I did lose was a dream of what I wanted my life to be like. I had my future plans taken away from me and have had no choice but to adapt to a new course. An un-planned life. We have turned our lives into something different and still it is so incredibly amazing.

Childlessness on Mother’s Day can be unbearable at times. The hurt and pain will always be a part of me. But I know that it is far outweighed by all the gloriousness of all that is in my life. I have so much love in my heart to give. That will always remain.

Thank you to all that have played such a crucial part in being in my life. I love you all very very much ❤

Here’s to all the women that inspire me everyday

Sharing my FB post from yesterday on International Women’s Day I celebrate all the brilliant fabulous women in my life. Here’s to you all. You inspire me everyday 🙌

🙏Here’s to being fierce, strong, passionate, driven, kickarse
🙏Here’s to being soft, vulnerable, emotional, gentle, coy, shy
🙏Here’s to being ambitious, career-driven, a leader, a manager
🙏Here’s to being intelligent, knowledgeable, well-read, educated
🙏Here’s to being fit, active, sporty, muscly, competitive
🙏Here’s to being happy in your own skin and loving yourself
🙏Here’s to saying no, switching off, relaxing, calmness
🙏Here’s to being allowed to grieve without guilt or explanation
🙏Here’s to being unashamedly happy and content with life
🙏Here’s to acknowledging that not all in life is fair
🙏Here’s to being bold, brave, courageous, inspirational, heroic
🙏Here’s to crying, howling, feeling shit, feeling down, scared
🙏Here’s to being a someone’s everyone and everything
🙏Here’s to being a joker, funny, entertaining, humorous
🙏Here’s to dealing with trauma, with illness, with pain & agony
🙏Here’s to getting by, coping, struggling, juggling
🙏Here’s to showing empathy, compassion, nurturing, caring
🙏Here’s to adventure, to being crazy, being intrepid, fearless
🙏Here’s to listening, being a coach, a mentor, a counsellor
🙏Here’s to being any size, any weight, any height, any shape
🙏Here’s to being family, friends, colleagues, confidants
🙏Here’s to being a Survivor and living the life you most want

Here’s to being who the hell you want to be and not allowing anyone to darken your sparkle.

beyou

choosetochallenge2021

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