The Aftermath

What comes up, must come down and sadly all good things do indeed come to an end.

After months of training, days of physio and hours of blogging my half marathon is over! I am sure that you were all hanging on the edges of your seats waiting in anticipation to find out if I made it past the finishing post in once piece. Wait no longer, for yes I very much did!

It is no secret that I was a little apprehensive about the event. Training aside my limbs didn’t really seem up to the task. Last week was fraught with angst, I didn’t dare to overdo it and I must admit that I even began to create some fantasy injuries in my head whilst worrying about the event. I did everything I could, I went on a short run on Wednesday, I iced my feet, I even started taking nuerofen three days prior to the event! I purchased a gel (tried and tested in a training run) and some new fetching socks. I hydrated and boy did I carb up. It was the perfect setting. Every evening without fail I religiously strengthened my ankles and “glutes” as per my physio’s request (ok I admit, 3 weeks ago I didn’t know what a glute was) and topped it all off by engaging in some cruel and unusual punishment in the form of my foam roller.

For all intensive purposes I was as ready as I would ever be. I had listened to recommendations and carefully ironed my name onto my t-shirt the night before and I had taken the time to make some rather dashing signage for our backs.

Sunday morning. Race Day. I was up at 6.30am to give myself time to eat a breakfast of champions, drink plenty of water and of course to strap up my darling princess feet. My sister arrived at 7.30 and off we went without a moment to spare for second guessing myself. Chauffeured by the hubby we picked up our other running buddy, Alexis, on the way and off we went... shivering just a tad in the cold morning air.

Before I knew it the time was upon me, the morning seemed to have flown past and there we were – having sampled the VIP tent and used the VIP port-a-loos I was already at the start line in the blue entry. There was no time to think because off the gun went and we were raring to go... Or rather 10 minutes of walking very slowly later we were waved off by our diehard fans in the shape of our family and started the run.

It turned into a gorgeous day and despite my feet shouting out in their drama queen ways the pain was only a constant 4/10 for most of the run. Lucky I listened to that wise person who advised me to put my name on my t-shirt because I felt like a true local celeb! All the amazing supporters spurred me on and I felt great! It was a perfect leisurely run, the sunshine was out and remarkably my sister Nikki & I didn’t run out of conversation topics.  Mile 6 the real highlights began when we stopped for a grab & go hug from her beaming kids and my lovely in-laws and by mile 7 we were greeted by another wonderful cheer stop with my dad, other sister and gorgeous niece also waving a Cancer Research banner. Still grinning from our encounter imagine my delight when 200 metres later we heard our names being called by our aunt, uncle & cousin. We really were flying, having a whale of a time and I was not even concerning myself with the fact that my poor little knee was beginning to cry out in pain.

Like Eminem the 8^th Mile was a little bit of a downer. The cheers started to subside a little as we started running through the park. Alexis’ words of warning came to mind - with all runners running in different directions you never quite knew whether it was worth trying to cheat and follow them, because you could wind up running back the way you came! But we needed to keep going, and going we kept on. With the sign of Mile 10 I must admit I was happier than I had been in a while, knowing we were on the home stretch. I knew that I would soon start wanting to get to the finish line and fast so I pulled out the old faithful tactic. The Power of Song. For every Race for Life I have ever run, at the 4km mark to keep Team LewNiK (family team) going out came the team running anthems – The Locamotion & Eye of the Tiger. It had to be done. It would have been foolish not to. So whilst my sister sifted through her IPod in a beautiful example of sensational multitasking, I belted out the Kylie classic. Luckily for all Nikki soon found the Rocky tune and my a capella  efforts could come to an end!

All was going smoothly until the 11^th mile. So close and yet so far. As we were running up a pretty unfortunately located hill I felt a little twinge in my “good” foot. This was soon followed by a slightly more insistent pounding sensation in my bad foot. A moment of panic set in when I thought of poor Leighton the Physio reminding me that stress can cause little bones in my feet to break. But in the back of my mind I knew I could break through the pain. How could I stop then? With all of the hours of training coupled with the fact that I already looked like a squashed tomato?

 Just when I needed a boost there they were. Like an Oasis in the desert I saw them. 6 strapping young lads shouting out “Run Forest Run!” When they saw me, those wonderful young men changed their tune to “Run, Amy, Run!” Well I could have given them all big sweaty kisses because, failing a swimming pool & a cold drink, it was just what I needed. So there I was, slightly limping but still running & by this point rather bedraggled.

The last couple of miles were interesting. My pain had gone from a steady 4 to about 8 or possibly even 9 and the last stages seemed to be lacking sturdy supporters. That all changed at the 20k mark. Out in the thousands were Londoners, Northerners & even Foreigners of all shapes and sizes. Screaming for us. Pushing us to go on. And on we went. Finally at 400m to go we spotted our family all standing together 200 metres from the finish line. Whoever knew after running 13miles I was able to sprint all the way to them? Well, I did. I guess all that interval training finally paid off! After hugs from all my sister and I clasped hands and ran together across that finish line.

It was an emotional day. As much as my blog has been about the trials and tribulations of my training the underlying reason for the run has always remained the same. I signed up for a half marathon to raise money into Lung Cancer research. I had no idea how I could take my mom’s mind off what she was going through and foolishly thought by putting my body through hell I could show some solidarity whilst she bravely faced the horror of chemotherapy. Never once did I think she would not be there at the finish line. Luckily for me the crowd, and my sister, pushed me forward. I don’t know what my mom would have said to me had she been there that day, although I can probably guess.  I do know however, that if she had seen my sister & I running across that line holding hands and hugging in jubilation & sadness at the end she would have been very proud. There is nothing that can ever change the fact that she has left a huge gaping hole in all of our lives but there is much solace in the knowledge that we have the support of friends and of course, each other.

I have been overwhelmed by people’s interest in what I have been doing and certainly by the amount of money that I have raised. Thank you for all your support. It has been a pretty awful year and a very interesting journey to running the Royal Parks but I am delighted that I did it. Who knows, perhaps if my doctors give me the go ahead, next year I might try to run it without an injury... watch this space!

Fact of the Blog: During October, thousands of people across England are taking part in Stoptober - a new, exciting 28 day challenge to stop smoking. There's lots of free support to help you along the way - and the great news is that by stopping smoking for 28 days, you are five times more likely to stay smoke free!

Ps don’t worry, you can still sponsor me!

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/AmyWoolf

 

The Final Countdown

The time has come for me to put my money where my mouth is. Or perhaps more specifically, where my feet are. In just 6 short days I will be pounding the streets in a turquoise t-shirt, proudly waving the banner for Cancer Research and flexing my running muscles to raise money in my wonderful mom’s honour. It all sounds rather gallant but I suspect the reality will most likely be very different.

I have no doubt that for those happy bystanders who will sensibly nab a viewing spot near the starting line I will look fit as a fiddle. Let’s be honest, as early as mile 5 I will already be sweating a fair amount and 5 miles after that I will look less like a hero and more like Adam Richman at the end of a Man V Food challenge. For those die hard supporters brave enough to grab a pew by the finish line I am afraid to say that they may be confused as to whether it is me or a squashed tomato finishing up the race.

Against all odds however, I will most definitely be running in that race.

My week of training has been rather uneventful. Owing to the aforementioned sentence to "rest" that I was given I have not been overdoing it. Saturday morning in the bright sunshine I boldly went where I had never gone before – 10 miles. I joined the early morning dew, the dog walkers and the Saturday girls and off I went.  My sister and I ran through Hertfordshire and ventured further afield than the average Londoner would ever go. For the most part it was a rather delightful run, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and remarkably my sister and I didn’t run out of things to talk about. I guess it just goes to show how much rubbish us Lewis girls can spout off at any given time. Not dissimilar to Eminem my issues started to arise at the 8 Mile mark. My trusty physio had kindly strapped up my foot and strapped on a piece of elastic to my knee which he assured would give me extra support. The problem was that after 9 miles my cradle of elasticity didn’t seem to be cradling much of my foot at all and disappointingly enough my knee wasn’t feeling the love and support I thought we had given it.

That being said, a run is a run and I most certainly ran. I ran all the way and I even survived to tell the tale.

A visit to my physio today has left me with yet another cradled foot and a rather relaxed thigh (what goes on at a physio appointment, stays at a physio appointment) but, I have also been left with a word of warning. Rest. The sprightly Kiwi has prescribed a relaxing week of a swim and possibly stretching myself to a very short run. But that is it.

So with 6 days to go it is time for me to ask for everyone who reads this to cross their fingers and their toes for me. The time is upon me and I could use all the happy thoughts I can get!  For those of you who are interested in watching a sweaty tomato with a bad foot finish a half marathon, look no further. I will be making an appearance on the streets of London this Sunday and perhaps if I am really struggling, I may even sing the Locomotion half way...!

Fact of the Blog: About 12 out of every 100 lung cancers diagnosed are Small cell lung cancer. It is called this because the cancer cells are small cells that are mostly filled with the nucleus (the control centre of cells). It is also called oat cell cancer. This type of cancer is usually caused by smoking. It is very rare for someone who has never smoked to develop it. Small cell lung cancer often spreads quite early on and so your doctors may recommend chemotherapy treatment rather than surgery

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/AmyWoolf

What's in a Foot?

It’s the final countdown to the Half Marathon and my feet have decided to throw their dummies out of their pram and act like the true primadonas I have always suspected them to be.

One week ago I took my little princess feet off to see the Podiatrist and was sentenced to a lifetime of no running. Not much difference to my pre Royal Parks life, right? Well the difference now is that I have spent the past 6 months training and quite frankly I am not ready to just give up. Having dragged my little legs out in the rain and sun I am quite determined not to maintain what little momentum I have gathered. So I faced the news with a healthy dose of stoicism and have decided to treat my feet to the royal pampering they deserve.

After running to Bond Street last Tuesday night I went home, smothered my feet in ibuprofen gel and wrapped them in ice. Pleasant, right?

I managed to get a physio appointment for Friday and in the mean time I dutifully wore my trainers combined with my hideously large orthotics at any given time. Walking home, check. Making dinner, check. Doing the washing, check. Friday I chose to run a short 5k at lunch time which, I admit, was more painful than I had anticipated and off I went to physio. The sentencing was similar to the one the Podiatrist dished out. I am not to be an acclaimed marathon runner. Sadly my career as a sprinter has been cruelly ripped from my hands. No more is the possibility of taking over from Sally Gunnell. Instead I have an elastic red stretchy bit of material that I am to use to strengthen my ankles and I am not afraid to use it.

So my Friday night was spent in my trainers, of course, as was my Saturday. Saturday night I was careful to rest my little tootsies in preparation for the Finsbury Park 15km race I was to run on Sunday. Before I knew it, the time was upon me. It was time to put my crazy orthotics and newly strengthened ankles to the test. I enlisted my die hard crazy cousin to run alongside me and he gallantly joined having not slept a wink. 

Sunday morning was quite honestly, horrific weather. To test out the tootsies I braved the elements and ran the full 15km in the hideous downpours. It was like Monsoon season without the heat. With each lap of Finsbury Park my sweat was washed away with more rain. But we did it. Coming in a cool 5^th from last place, we passed the finish line with only a medium ache in my plodders.

Worry not, as soon as I was home and showered, there I was with ibuprofen gel rubbed in, ice packs on and feet raised. I was giving them the real attention they deserved.

Tuesday morning ahead of fasting tonight, I was up at 5.45 to run before work and this morning post fast there I was hitting the streets once more for the prescribed short run. With only 9 days to go, I can say with full confidence and not in slightest bit dramatic way, I cannot wait for this Half Marathon to be over.

Fact of the Blog: There is a lot of research going on into finding out whether it is possible to screen particular groups of people who are at high risk of developing lung cancer. People at high risk of lung cancer include people who smoke and people who have lung disease, such as chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. It is always more cost effective to screen people at high risk, rather than to screen everyone. 

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/AmyWoolf
http://cancerhelp.cancerresearchuk.org/type/lung-cancer/

The F Word

It was only a matter of time before it happened. The signs were there, I was almost a fool not to foresee it. For after a long summer of training my little left foot has finally decided it has had its fill of running.

No amount of training will bring it back from the deepest darkest depths of despair, all I can do is hope and pray. Well, that and consult a doctor.

I suppose it all started with my flat feet. It is no secret (particularly now that I have blogged about it) that this body really ain’t made for marathons. Quite the contrary, I am much more suited to the low impact sports like swimming, dancing and walking towards the fridge. Perhaps I should have been more cautious during the past month and not happily sauntered about town in little ballet pumps. Maybe I could have taken more care to only wear trainers and yes, I ought to have been more conscientious when buying orthotics and not just bought off the rack. But who could predict my feet would finally just throw in the towel?

Upon our return from Geneva I may have noticed a little extra bite in my bounce when taking to the streets. It is fair to say that I have found my feet a little more swollen, but surely this was par for the course in becoming Linford Christie the Second? I am sad to tell you, this is not the case.

After a few interesting runs last week, jogging around Hertfordshire, I took a little break. We had a lovely wedding in Kent and then I needed to welcome in the High Holidays. It was only after once again bumbling about in little pumps that I truly noticed just how swollen my little tootsies are. It was then I really felt the pain in my feet when I was walking...sitting...standing.

The good news, I have been mildly saved by the wonderful Justin at First Podiatry. The bad news, if I manage to make it to the 13^th mile, this will probably be my last ever half marathon. I know, I know, cut down in my prime I hear you say. Starved of the prospect of entering into further running tests. Stolen from the land of marathons.  It turns out my tendons are giving up and my feet require a lot of TLC.

Despite the warning signs I have told the Podiatrist that the show really must go on. This Cinderella will in fact make it to the Royal Parks Ball, by hook or by crook I will finish that last mile. Even if I am limping through. My orthotics have been “doctored” I have purchased some ibuprofen gel and I am reacquainting myself with an ice pack. That, combined with physio and pilates – to increase my core strength – should get me through.

I tested out the new orthotics last night when my running buddy and I ran to Bond Street from Canary Wharf and I have to say my feet were very thankful for the extra support.  I may have given myself two rather substantial blisters but my spirits are up! This race is happening and I am going to purchase some geeky running socks and yes, I am going to finish the race.

Fact of the blog: A UK trial called the Lung-SEARCH study is looking at using spiral CT scans combined with a new test called fluorescence bronchoscopy to find lung cancer at a very early stage in people with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). COPD means lung disease such as chronic bronchitis and emphysema. People with COPD have a higher risk of lung cancer than people in the general population.

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/AmyWoolf
http://cancerhelp.cancerresearchuk.org/type/lung-cancer/

The Lonely Lycra Life

It is not often that I am shocked by Londoners. We come in all shapes and sizes and can be seen doing a number of strange and not so strange activities at any time of the day or night. Typically none of this phases me. Up until recently I was convinced that London was the most unfriendly of European cities which, being slightly anti-social at times, has never phased me.  Not ones for a stop and chat the most interaction a native Londoner may have with a stranger is when we are asked for the time.

One time we do show signs of a break down in our cool calm exterior is when we exercise. Runners hailing from all sides of the city, from the Concrete Jungle professional types of Canary Wharf to the Square Milers and even the cool artsy Soho Media Types, may wear a perma-scoul when walking through the tubes or pushing past tourists, but come Running Time there is an odd sense of Camaraderie. Many a time I have been huffing and puffing my way round the Wharf only to be passed by a sprightly sprinter who gives me a knowing nod. Whenever I am running red faced around Regents Park I know that when I am overtaken by another jolly jogger they will be sure to crack a smile back at me. Even cyclists tip their helmet or offer a wave. It is just part and parcel of the sporty clientele in London.

So imagine my surprise when I sampled the Geneva running route this weekend (just a little self plug as I am super smug that I ran whilst on my City Break!) only to find that London is not in fact, the rudest city of them all. Husband and I jetted off to Geneva for the weekend for a wedding and whilst I was there I decided to keep up with my training regime and sample the UNESCO suggested running route by Lake Geneva. It was absolutely stunning. The weather was gorgeous and the setting couldn’t have been more perfect for a serene morning run to clear my head. The route took me through the park, along the lake and up to the Botanical Gardens. Gorgeous. The only problem was the hard faced fellow runners I encountered. At first I beamed proudly at the chap I saw running towards me. It was oddly disconcerting to find my award winning smile was met with such a frown. The next random runner I saw I tried a more professional nod. When this still didn’t work I must admit I resorted to pulling out all the stops and hitting them with my best London glare and ignoring everyone. I would love to say that I managed to shock someone into smiling, or even to tempt someone to nod. But alas, I didn’t even get a little eyebrow raise.

So there it is, the lonely life in lycra. Who would have thought that the happy watch wearing, fondue eating, chocolate making Swiss would ever be so cold? If I can implore anyone who reads this to just spare a thought for this Lone Woolf running when you can. Give us a nod, go on.

Fact of the blog: As soon as you stop smoking, your risk of lung cancer starts to go down

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserProfilePage.action?userUrl=AmyWoolf
http://cancerhelp.cancerresearchuk.org/type/lung-cancer/

That Paralympics Spirit

I may have missed out on the Olympic vibe but something I am not missing out on is the Paralympics. The excitement I felt for Team GB has only deepened with the arrival of the Paralympics. So imagine my surprise and delight when my wonderful friend presented the hubby and I with tickets to the Paralympics Opening Ceremony! Not only did I get to finally see the Olympic Park, I was really part of the magic.

Unprepared as we were for the event (the call came in last Wednesday at 11am, a few hours before kickoff) I am unashamed to say that not only did I pop out at lunch for a Supermarket Sweep-esque attempt at buying warm clothes, we also had to buy matching Team GB jumpers. It would have been rude not to.

So there we were, the Woolfs on tour: sporting Team GB jumpers, eating mascot shaped chocolate bars and sipping over priced official Paralympics water. It literally couldn’t be better than that - until the show started. The event was, simply put, spectacular. The entertainment was vibrant, the fireworks dazzling and most of all the athletes and performers were truly awe inspiring. What better impetus did I need to motivate my lazy body than watching the pages of the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights being marched across the stadium? What could possible ebb me on more than watching Royal Marine Joe Townsend carry the Paralympics torch into the Stadium on a zip wire? As it turns out, each event that has taken place since then and will take place over the next few days.  

I am constantly amazed and delighted by the determination and spirit of the athletes – swimmers, cyclists and blade runners just to name a few. Ludwig Guttmann’s idea of using sport in the recovery of paralysed individuals has enabled disabled athletes worldwide to become the sporting heroes they truly are.

If ever I needed a kick up the bottom here it is. Who am I to complain about going the distance now? So it is with great pleasure that I can admit to my challenge of the week. I have decided to (OK, mildly bullied into) trying to shave 10 minutes off my 10k time.  At the moment I have set myself a time of 1h 7 minutes. My lovely cousin and running pal has deemed this a little slow (in my defence I refer back to my aforementioned chicken legs) and as such this week we will be running 10k in under an hour.  Wish me luck!

Fact of the Blog: Less than 10% of people diagnosed with lung cancer survive the disease for at least five years after diagnosis.
As ever, any donation is very welcome...

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/AmyWoolf

http://cancerhelp.cancerresearchuk.org/type/lung-cancer/

Neither by snow nor rain nor heat....

We can thank Herodotus for many true phrases but none come more to mind than his quote made famous by the US postal system. He may have been hailing the first known couriers for their determination to get to their “appointed course with all speed” but little did he know it, Herodotus’ phrase has served to inspire me time and time again.

I can’t believe that when my parents settled in blighty all those years ago they were truly aware of just how tumultuous our seasons are. Surely they would not have made the journey simply to be welcomed by sludge? Either way 2012 has truly ensured that we runners have braved all elements. Just when I had got used to running in the rain out came the sun and not only dried up all the rain, it basically baked it.  

As pleasant as it may be to lie in the sun and enjoy the odd BBQ there are aspects of London life which are simply not up to 30 degree heat. Tube travel and any exercise other than swimming come to mind. Summer in London can be bliss. Londoners flock to the parks to soak up the rare sunshine, we expose our pasty white skin lathered in little sun cream and grab hold of all the pimms Tesco has to offer.  During the week however we cram onto London’s finest and sweat through our suits, gently melting away as we are nestled into someone else’s armpit.  

Similarly unpleasant is a Londoner attempting to run in this heat. Or more specifically, this Londoner attempting to run in this heat. Unaccustomed as we are to tropical climates I tried desperately to stick to the routine. 3-4 runs per week, no cutting corners. So there I was, 8am on Sunday morning in full lycra raring to go. There is probably no need to go into the full details or the ordeal but suffices to say I made it all the way down to the end of the road before I gave up and returned home to share my war story with my amused husband.

Luckily true to form England’s deep heat has subsided and we are back to the safety of autumnal weather. A slow 4k run Monday morning was a great precursor to my 9k run to Westminster last night. With only 5 weeks to go I think I may be finally back in the running saddle.  Let’s just hope it doesn’t start snowing next week.

www.virginmoneygiving.com/AmyWoolf
http://cancerhelp.cancerresearchuk.org/type/lung-cancer/

Fact of the blog... In most people, lung cancer is related to cigarette smoking. Although some people who have never smoked get lung cancer, smoking causes more than 8 out of 10 cases (83%).

Running on Empty

I started with Great Expectation but sadly my blog has not exactly felt the big "MO-Mentum" famous during London 2012. Against all odds my training schedule went off with a bang. I reformed my no running ways  and managed to build up to a cool 14km. Pretty impressive for a 5ft red head with chicken legs, if I do say so myself. I felt the burn of an injury and powered through. I tackled the suburban hills to reach dizzying heights. I even purchased a running bum bag.

As we entered into July my Mom went into hospital for a procedure to drain fluid from her lungs. As with all her procedures and all of her treatment she kept calm and never let us know just how scared she was. Unfortunately she never quite recovered from her operation. She made it home after a week in hospital, a little bit weaker than before. Pumped up on pain killers she tried her best to fight her pain and recover at home.

Three days later she was back in hospital, in an immense amount of pain and extremely breathless.  Over the course of the month of July she bravely fought everything Cancer threw her way. Amidst the bright lights of Baker Street her wounds healed and we thought it would be a matter of time before she was home and kicking on the cruel door of chemo.

Things went from bad to worse as her breathing wasn’t improving. She was taken off her cancer combating drugs and put on steroids. Just as things were getting a little better she caught an infection and before we knew it the cancer had spread too far. She could have tried chemo but we were told there was only 1/5 chance that would work. So on Tuesday July 24^th we brought my Mom home after a hideously long and harsh 11 month battle. She fought on through the day to wait for her nieces to arrive from Israel to say goodbye and passed away on Wednesday, 25^th July shortly before 10.30am.

My mother’s spirit and determination have continually amazed me. She was without a doubt one of the most generous, enigmatic and kind people I have been privileged enough to know. We are devastated by her loss but inspired by her memory.

I may have taken my foot off the gas over the past month but I am now raring to go once more. Last night I reignited my training schedule with a (slow) run from Canary Wharf to London Bridge and tomorrow night I will be going that much further to make it to Waterloo. In the meantime, just call me Forest because I am all about the running.

www.virginmoneygiving.com/AmyWoolf
http://cancerhelp.cancerresearchuk.org/type/lung-cancer/

Fact of the blog...  Around 18,400 women were diagnosed with lung cancer in the UK in 2009, making it the third most common cancer in women after breast and bowel cancer.

And so it begins...

It is T minus 82 days until my very first Half Marathon and I am quite honestly petrified. I am no natural born runner, au contraire I am a natural born eater. I have spent the entirety of my life taking my pride in my No Running Rule. This rather elaborate rule has restricted me to only running very short distances when absolutely necessary: For trains, planes and the odd ice cream van.

So the question does remain, why now? It was a mere 8 months ago when I decided to throw caution to the wind and sign up for the Royal Parks. 10 months ago my mom was sadly diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. The cancer had already spread across her lungs by the time they caught it but luckily she was just in time to treat it with aggressive chemotherapy. After watching my brave mom don her best Rocky face and enter the ring to fight Cancer I knew there was no option for me.  I decided to do something I hate to raise money for charity. It was either running a marathon or climbing Everest. I knew I would never climb Everest (clumsy doesn’t even begin to describe me, it would be a comedy of errors) so marathon it was.

 Owing to my aforementioned No Running Rule I have arranged a rigorous running schedule for myself and I am delighted to tell you that I am now a “Real Runner”.  Move over Dame Kelly Holmes, there is a new kid on the block. Not only have I now managed to run a hefty 14km all by myself,   I have even sustained my very first Sports Related Injury! Ok, so it wasn’t that bad, but I did manage to hurt my knee a little – just enough to warrant an ice pack and some nuerofen.

 So here we are. There is less than three months to go and I have nowhere to turn. My training is underway I have had more than my share of running in the rain (thanks to our lovely British summer)! I have run the Bupa London 10K, tried my hand at the Clapham Common series and just completed our annual Race for Life. So watch this space, because as much as I hate to admit it.... I am beginning to think running isn’t all that bad...

www.virginmoneygiving.com/AmyWoolf
http://cancerhelp.cancerresearchuk.org/type/lung-cancer/ 

Fact of the Blog... according to Cancer Research UK in 2005-2009, 9% of people in England survived their lung cancer for five years or more.