From the dying embers, a flame.

Posted on: 12 Mar 2018

March 10th.

A day of absolutely no significance whatsoever.

As I have watched my lovely Clair time and again drag herself out of bed at 5:30 in a morning to go get some running done, my own motivation has waned.

She doesn’t really want to get up at that hour, but her drive to do it is there because that’s what fits best with the rest of life.

I really don’t want to do it because ever since my first marathon, and I’ve done 19 more after that, my body has got progressively more and more broken.

I’m getting old.

I started falling over hurtling downhill in fell races.

I badly smashed up my right knee on a day when I was only supposed to be walking.

I didn’t stick to the plan, I ran down Whernside in my walking boots, like you do when you are young. 

Maybe that’s the significance of March 10th - today is the day I’ve had to go order my first pair of glasses.

I’m really getting old.

All day I’ve had this deep burning desire to get out on my bike and cycle 20 miles.

Why 20? Why today?

It will be the first exercise I’ve done since what felt like my last hurrah running up Bwlch-y-Groes in the Snowdonia marathon last year.

The injuries have been stopping me ever since.

Most significantly my left foot, or ankle, or both. There’s been so much pain in that area I really can’t tell what the trouble is.

It isn’t getting better resting.

The bike ride doesn’t get done.

As Clair and I settle on the sofa for a rare relaxing evening, I pop onto my Facebook, and see the “your Facebook memories” notice:

March 10th, 2013 - a blog post from back then - “Finally I feel like a marathoner again”. 

I read it.

5 years ago to the day, it was the first time in 3 years, that I’d managed to run 20 miles.


March 11th.

Mother’s Day.

It was Mother’s Day 5 years previous too.

The burning desire to get out on the bike hasn’t gone away.

I haven’t felt like this in months.

Suddenly exercise is important again, but it’s not as important as family.

I didn’t get to see everybody that I wanted to see, but I did the best I could.

Things go wrong in life sometimes, and we had a blip in the afternoon.

Saturday night had been lovely though, a rare treat of a night that was just about us.


Sunday morning was lovely too.

The Mother’s Day lunch that Clair had cooked for Val went (I thought) really well also.

Concentrate on the positives.

The first signs of darkness were showing by the time my Lycra clad backside got in the saddle. I rode up to my mums to see her. Hadn’t realised my back light wasn’t working, so had to leave pretty much before I arrived.

Oh well. C’est la vie.

Only almost got killed twice. Indecisive dithering dimwits in cars pulling out in-front of me at Ollerton cross roads.

I must have been no older than 19 last time I rode a bike along this road. Same age my daughter is now. 

Funny how the twists and turns of life have brought me back to where I cycled as a boy.

Just over half an hour of pedalling is an ok start I guess.


March 12th.


I’m up at 5:30am with Clair. She’s running. I can’t.

I do body weight squats and a few push ups. Just enough to get me working up a little sweat.

I’m not a morning person.

But I’m up, and some exercise got done.




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