Day 133 - Brookfield School 4th Annual Family Fun Run

In Chariots of Fire Eric Liddell, on being asked to speak at an Edinburgh Under 12s athletics event, says something along the lines of: 'the thing about achieving a certain level of notoriety is that you get asked to give things away.' Now, I don't know that I'm quite at the level that he was (even before the 1924 Olympics), but I can say that I felt very privileged today.

I was asked by the organisers of our local primary school's annual fun run if I would declare the race open and help to hand out the medals at the end - and it was lovely. Lovely to see the anticipation on everyone's faces as they waited (very patiently) for me to cut the ribbon. Lovely to witness the way that anticipation morphed, first into effort as they ran, and second into joy as they realised what a huge achievement it was for them all.

Not just because they'd run the 2km to and from the bandstand, through trees and over some tough terrain, supported their teammates and crossed the line, but because many did so in rather intricate costumes (which we judged and found amazing!) and some even with a manual wheelchair in tow! Each and every runner is a winner for me, and the medals you all have around your necks are so very well-deserved.

So many people, parents and children alike, came up to me afterwards to thank me for being at the race - I think they had it the wrong way around. I want to thank them, because it was so inspiring to see everyone having such fun and giving it their best, and I feel so grateful for the reminder that the journey is the most important part of any goal - and that I'm not so far off running myself.

So, here's a thank you to Ali, to Mark and, most of all, to Brookfield Primary School, for welcoming me with such wonderfully open arms - winning is best when it's done together, as the photo below shows:

Sorry it's not very big...

    

Day 131 - the summer she learnt to sit alone (again!)

I've just realised how sad that title might seem, if it were figurative and referring to the state of my social life, but it's not - because this has been one superbly social summer. No, it's actually rather literal - I can sit on my own. Big deal, you might scoff, you've always sat unaided; and, if by 'unaided' you mean strapped into a chair with a very supportive backrest and seat, you'd be right.

I don't mean that, though; I mean sitting on a dining chair with my arm resting on the table next to me and feeling perfectly safe.

I mean conquering sciatica, startle and spasm and catching a glimpse of that little girl who used to zoom about the house on a wheely office chair.

I mean the suggestion that sciatica might merely be a sign that you need to take things a little slower and not something to be scared about.

I mean letting your body catch up with your mind and learning that you have to sit before you stand.

I mean going from having people sitting on your lap to being brave enough to sit on theirs.

I mean...

I can sit safely and independently again and there's lots of fun to be had.

Day 125 - Chariots of Fire reprise

You may remember a post sometime in June about how inspired I'd been by the stage version of Chariots of Fire at Hampstead Theatre. Well, on Wednesday evening, I was lucky enough to see it again (this time with Eileen, in the West End at the Gielgud) at the invitation of the wonderful cast. This is to thank Sam (Simon), Tam, Jack, Daniel (and James and Mark in absentia), Savannah, Antonia, Natasha, Dave, Joe, Paul, Andrew, Lloyd, Simon and Simon (so many Simons!), Matt, Gareth, Sam, Henry, Leemore, Nickolas and Nicholas...and all the other fabulous people I met for their generosity, support and interest in this little girl's dream to run.

It truly means the world to have you all behind me, and to have a link to 'Team GB of 1924', as Sam so aptly put it. Not only do I know that I've got the embodied spirits of Liddell, Abrahams, Lindsey and Montague guiding me, thanks to my newfound friends, but I've learnt I'm like a combination of all of them: my technique's awful, I'm way beyond the border of obsessive, I won't let a hurdle lie until I've jumped it, and I'm running for the contentment and joy of the race. I really needed that boost of motivation, and I got it on Wednesday, so I can't thank you all enough.

Equally, I'm so grateful for our chat afterwards, because it confirmed for me that I really do want to act - and that there's hope for work after graduation, because most of you are my age!

All my love and thanks,

Jessi - the girl who's leaving her chariot behind ;) xxx     

Day 124 - look up to the stars, not down at your feet

The Paralympic Opening Ceremony was over a week ago - I can't quite believe how quickly the time has gone - but that's where my title for today's post comes from, because it's one of those events. Everyone will remember where they were, and I certainly do - with my Woodlarks family at Pathfinders 2012: United.

(Yes, it's that post. You finally get to find out what happened that one time at...'red, white and blue' camp.)

And, you can be sure of it, there was lots of looking up to the stars. We had to - if we'd looked down at the floor, let alone our feet, we would've seen the mud we'd tracked into our tent. So we slept outside instead, and really looked up to the stars:

 

But even breaking our chairs didn't get us out of the drying up:

Seriously, though, it was a week of achievements - Claire completed a 26th length swim in a fantastic one hour and twenty minutes, raising over £700 (last I heard) for Chestnut, her local hospice - something she'd never done before:

And it's my Pathfinders family, who welcomed me with open arms a year ago, I have to thank for their support in making the (literal) strides I have for you below:

Thanks especially to Nori, Hannah and the rest of Red Patrol (to Levi for the hug at the end), to Jill, Hattie, Helen, Hazel and Sam, and of course to Jane and Dave for leading yet another wonderful camp. I feel truly blessed to say that the first video of me walking in my hoist was made at my favourite place in the world, with my favourite people.

The Wonders of Woodlarks will never cease to amaze me. I love you all and am ever grateful.

Day 120 - for Jess Hunter

Yesterday I got back from a wonderful second holiday at Pathfinders Camp - it truly was the best ever in my ten years at Woodlarks, a place that seems to get more special every time I go there. My post about it will have to wait 'til Tuesday, however, for two reasons: firstly because so many awesome things occurred that I need to get them coherent in my head so I don't make it more rambly a post than it already is and, secondly, because there's someone else achieving amazing goals this week who deserves a mention today.

So -

To a best pal, namesake, once-upon-a-time roommate and eternal soulmate,

I've known you since that very first night you wailed down the corridor of Maple House because you didn't want to be left there. How far you've come, my Boccia Baby, from a timid teenager - through laughter, tears, midnight conversations and broken arms (anything to get out of those exams, eh?) - to a proud and prepared paralympian. Of course we always knew how awesome you were - we could see it in the cheeky glint of your eye, and I called you my happy-go-lucky girl from the start - but now it's your chance to show the world the majesty of Munter.

I love you, dear, and I'm right behind you today, tomorrow and forever - Rainbow Girls together always!

Can't wait to see you play in the morning; I'm so very, very proud!

Marrott xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx    

Day 112 - MY secret garden

It's time for camp. I must ask you to excuse me for a week as I shall be sleeping under canvas, eating all meals outside, rolling around on the floor (because I can again!) and getting covered in soot - and partaking in all manner of other awesome activities.

For the tenth year and eleventh camp running.

Bring on Woodlarks 2012 - and Pathfinders Mark Two. Woot.

Day 111 - keep your head and heart facing in the right direction, and your feet will take care of themselves...

Since I blogged last - ten days ago, I'm sorry! - I've been ill. Just the 'flu, a cough and our family's signature symptom (a high temperature), so nothing major; but it knocked me. It mostly knocked my confidence, because things were a little more difficult physically, except for the day I had the fever, when I was totally relaxed. This, though, is not my point. I don't want to spend a post rambling (albeit not deliriously anymore) about being sick - save to say that it taught me a lot about fear.

How obtuse can I get? I'll try and explain. When I get ill and I'm conscious of the fact that I'm ill, everything tightens up, and I usually get concerned that the slightest twinge is evidence of my downward spiral into the Slough of Despond, à la the melodromatic (awesome) heroine of Anne of Green Gables or the (entirely valid) hypochondria of Colin Craven in The Secret Garden (which, by the way, is the best film to watch when you're feeling like a toddler and need snuggling - and when your DVD of Pride and Prejudice is too scratched because you've watched it so many times. Oops...). I say I 'usually' get concerned because, whilst it did happen to some extent, I was able to see it for what it was and just let it be, because sometimes a body just needs a break, and I forget that.

Then I was reading a magazine, which I got largely because it had interviews with some awesome thespian people in it (so many plays/films/shows on at the moment, a few of which I've been lucky enough to see), and I noticed the horoscopes. I don't normally give them too much credence, but I like words and I'm a great believer in synchronicity, so the Scorpio 'Motto of the Month' really caught me. It's the title of this post - Keep your head and heart facing in the right direction, and your feet will take care of themselves - and, though I realise most people wouldn't take it literally, the metaphor seemed far too apt to ignore.

That's what I'm trying to do - and I think it's working - because my 'unfailingly realistic' main physiotherapist commented on how my pulling myself up on my new frame has improved a huge amount. She also talked about the possibility of taking 'a few independent steps'. This is the woman who repeatedly reminds me that I won't walk! I might even get brave enough to tell her about my plan and this blog...

Either way, the lesson of today is to remember that sometimes bodies need to integrate changes, especially ones like these, because they're big and scary - and that there are peaks and troughs, ups and downs, that aren't the be all and end all. On the contrary - they might just be growing pains, of the spiritual as well as the physical variety, and a necessary part of the journey - and I still walked ten lengths of my room today. So, in the words of Bobby McFerrin, 'don't worry, be happy'.

And RIP Tony Scott.