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Hello all,
I had another counselling session today which focused mainly on confidence. Although I have come to terms with panic, understand it and know how to challenge it, I lacked the confidence to do anything about it.
This is where our old friend avoidance crops up. Its so much easier to avoid 'scary' situations rather than address and confront them. I would constantly refuse to walk the dog, wouldn't travel to university or make excuses because I was frightened of feeling the panic again. Doing this just suffocated me and prevented me from experiencing life. It is a depressing and bleak situation to be in, believe me I know.
But, I am beginning to regain my confidence by talking down the gravity of the situation. I do this by reassuring myself with positive statements and rationality. "I can breathe, I can get to uni, Nothing will happen to me"
I have found doing things independently has also helped me greatly, like when I walked to the hospital by myself and going on jogs. This has shown me I do not have to rely on anybody else. It has also strengthened the reason why I think I am in this situation.
As a child I was very happy but I hardly went to other kids parties, night stay school trips, sleepovers, but did go out with my dad a lot. This helped me to fortify the bond with my parents but not to develop an Independence and over the years prevented me from developing a strong self confidence and belief. I would be the last person to blame my parents because obviously they have protected me, done the best for my life and I love them dearly but I think the refusal to cut the cord right up until university is what caused the stress and ultimately the panic of living in the real world without the emotional and mental tools to do this.
I may be wrong& it could be codswallop as I'm not a psychiatrist but one thing I firmly believe is that stress causes panic attacks. If I feel stressed I let it out instead of 'putting on a brave face'. If I want to cry Ill go and have a cry and I will always talk about how I feel. If you hold your emotions in, it's like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. It's so important to talk to anybody you can about the way you feel. Don't be worried they'll think your silly or weird, there are thousands of people like you!

The Marathon Diaries 5 4 weeks to go

               My mantra. Massive thank you to my pal Charlotte for surprising me with this t-shirt!

It’s happened. The number of diaries I’ve now written is now more than the amount of weeks to go until the Virgin London Marathon 2017. Excuse me while I shit myself. 

Speaking of shitting myself, that’s a section in this edition. Yep, we’ve reached that stage now. We’re smack bang in the middle of the LONG long runs (I RAN 17 MILES YESTERDAY) and I have very little dignity left. 

I hope you’re ready for all this…

I managed to run 4 miles less than 24 hours after the Dartford Half marathon

Let’s start where we left off. The Dartford Half marathon. If you wouldn’t mind a detour, let me cast your minds back to last October where I was a broken woman after the Royal Parks Half Marathon. I was an injured, exhausted mess and couldn’t run for a month. So, obviously, I was expecting just the same this time… but… what is this… I ran FOUR MILES the DAY AFTER a HALF MARATHON RACE?! I did. Yep. Affirmative. I felt fine and ran four miles. CHUFFED. I've said it before, I'll say it again: the training works!

Running 15 miles on your period is Not Great

I don’t let my period stop me from running, but OH BOY, sometimes it’s brutal. My uterus was having none of it during a midweek run and I had to stop to be sick on the side of the road, so the thought of doing 15 miles that weekend wasn’t filling me with too much hope. I did it, obviously, because I’m fucking superwoman, but please don’t ever underestimate the effect a period can have on a body. It’s not just all moaning and chocolate, lads. Which leads me to…

BUM CHAFING 

I'm all for TMI. Sorry Mum. I wear pads on my period (don’t talk to me about tampons or the mooncup) and figured that I could be the victim of fanny chafing on a three-hour run, so smothered myself in my lube stick. I was pretty smug with that forethought, but it wasn’t my fanny I had to be worried about, it was my arse. Jesus H Christ. I farted during that 15 mile run about 11 miles in and THE STINGING. OW. The hot water in the shower afterwards didn’t help either. I had sore lumps all over my bum, and now just my knickers are encouraging them. They ain’t going. Ryan’s had to lather my bum crack in Sudocrem. Seriously, this marathon. WHY.

But look how cool this running map looks...

I always think I’m going to shit myself at 11 miles

I’ll stop talking about my arse in a minute, I promise. But there is something about the 11 mile point that makes my insides want to fall out of my holes. I have to clench tight for half a mile until the feeling goes. I have absolutely no science, wisdom, or learnings from this, I JUST WANT TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I’M SCARED I’M GOING TO SHIT MYSELF AT 11 MILES, OK. (Mum - if you want to stand on the day at 11 miles with some Immodium, that’d be top.)

My little toenails are going to fall off

I always thought it was your big toes that suffered during marathon training but, of course, my body has to be different. I get the gigantic Satan-filled blisters on my big toes, but my little toes feel broken. I've kept them painted for weeks and I ain't looking to see what's underneath. I’m just keeping them as short as possible. But they ARE going to fall off. I’m prepared for the grief. I’m ready to let go. RIP.

I literally can’t stop eating 

Over the last three weekends I have run 13.1 miles, 15 miles, and 17 miles. That’s a lot of running in one go. What I didn’t expect, perhaps stupidly, was to be permanently hungry for the rest of the weekend. I cannot stop eating. Nothing fills me up, my stomach will rumble as soon as I’ve finished a massive roast. I’m having two lunches, two dinners, and a million snacks in between. I can only imagine the amount of food I will want in my face after 26.2 miles…

Final instructions magazine arrived, and my race number! THIS IS ALL TOO REAL.

I’m not running on my own anymore!

In non-body news, Ryan’s started running with me. I don’t know if he feels sorry for me or really does want to slow his running down (his pace is fast), but I’m not complaining. I’m slightly worried I’m ruining his training but I LIKE HAVING A RUNNING BUDDY. It’s forcing me, again, to not wear earphones and trust my body to be able to run without distraction… and gives me someone to swear at when I’ve run 16 miles and CAN’T DO THE LAST MILE, THIS IS FUCKING AWFUL, I HATE EVERYTHING. (I can, and I did.) 

Also I have someone to take photos of me...

Ryan’s smashed his £2,000 target for Against Breast Cancer!

And finally, the last of Ryan’s fundraising events was last Saturday and he raised a fantastic £580. That took him to nearly £2,000 for Against Breast Cancer which was all he needed to say for people to donate that little bit more for that golden target. What an amazing feeling and weight off! Thank you so much to all those who donated. 

If anyone else wants to donate, please visit here! https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/ryanhutchings1