Monday, 20 July 2009

It's OK to laugh too

It’s silly o’clock in the morning. Not far off the time when I posted the last.
When I posted last week I was still in a state of disbelief of the news that had filtered its way down to me.
By then I had consumed a generous amount of vino calapso on the instructions of one absent Pirate. We had spent the evening in near constant contact with only short breaks to be the bearer of bad news to our numerous WHWR family.
This is how our week was to continue.
Both of us making very difficult calls to friends, often blissfully unaware that we were trying to track them down. Enjoying family time on holiday with loved ones. Oblivious to the news we would deliver to them a few short hours later.

It’s is a terrible thing to do. Be the person who brings about an almighty blow to your almost perfect evening of merriment making and joviality.
The person who contacts you out of the blue to inform you of an incomprehensibly heartbreaking event that it stops you in your tracks.
I put myself in their shoes and asked my self would I rather know now or wait until I was home?
I’m sorry if I made the wrong decision troops but I thought you like me would rather know sooner rather than later.

I have read somewhere, possibly from Keith that it is beginning to sink in what has happened. I agree. While I still feel that it is a surreal situation, I am slowly accepting the fact that the wee man won’t be on the phone to me next week venting his spleen about some catastrophe or other.

I also like how the forum, while still full of beautiful comments and memories, is tentatively regaining its sense of humour. Over to you DQ & Tim.
I have never hidden death from my children. I have always allowed them to be aware of the sadness and that it’s OK to cry. But equally in time it’s OK to laugh also.

The Pirate and I live 400 hundred mile apart. A distance that is over come by a 4hr 24 min train ride on one Richard Branson’s finest railroad carriages. A distance that often causes friends to enquire “how does that work then?” I usually reply that it just DOES. Well this week the bloody 400 hundred miles might have well been 40,000. When you experience a week like last week you yearn for the mileage to shrink and to be comforted by your loved one. It’s just not the same down a telephone line. Patience IS a virtue.

So, Thursday will bring together many friends and family members in a place that will be alien to them. For a ceremony no-one could have foreseen. I will be lucky enough to have my Pirate next to me.

Sombre black or my pink fleece? I can’t decide.

Mrs Mac x

Monday, 13 July 2009

He has gone. We have lost him.

This evening I learned of the death of a very dear friend. A man known to the majority of the readership of this blog as the Race Daddy.

This afternoon, while out in the hills training with friends Dario Melaragni suffered a massive heart attack and died.
There is no need for flowery language or clich├ęs. He has gone we have lost him.

Dario and I clicked right away. I guess he picked up on my weakness for saying YES and agreeing to volunteer for stuff without fully considering the implications.

He broke us in gently, Mum and Me. He gave us a checkpoint next to the shops, cool!
What he didn’t tell us was that the shopkeeper was a miserable old so and so and he would call the police to us on two separate occasions.

That same year he tried to make up for his lack of truth telling by giving my Mum his car. That sounds a bit extreme but its true. You know when you look in your goodie bag to check out the contents and feast your eyes at the latest buff? Well, can you imagine Mums delight when there, at the bottom of her bag was a glint of silver and a mat black key fob. She was thrilled, winning some sort of prize draw that she never knew she’d entered. She quickly ran round the car park to find her prize.
It didn’t take long to workout what had actually happened.
While the dumplin was filling the goodie bags his bloody keys fell out of his pocket right into my Ma’s treasure. She made a big show of it at the prize giving by presenting the back to him. I seem to remember a story of getting a lift back to Blackford to retrieve the spare set. Numptie.

The next year he decided to up the anti and hit us with a double shift through the night.
This year he topped it off by having me on duty beginning middle and the end. And glad to help I was. The thing with Dario was he asked in such a way that you couldn’t say no, he just assumed you’d do it. He used to say to me “when your in your in” “you don’t get out unless you replace yourself!” I never got the chance to tell him, I was still building up the courage……. Dave wants me to support him next year. Can I have the day off please?

My friendship with Dario existed out with the race. Although, our telephone conversations often included reference to how “the race” & “the family” helped us through tough times. As it has tonight.

I’ll miss him in my life.
He showed me a world; a way of life, a group of people I never knew existed. A world I feel part of now.
A world that will mourn his loss with many tears.
I have in my hand a glass, a crystal type glass, with engraving. It contains a generous amount of red wine. A glass I will raise to a friend lost much too soon.

To Dario,
Slainte Mhath

Saturday, 11 July 2009

53 weeks

This post is not for the faint hearted. If you are at all squeamish I suggest you avert your eyes now.
Humour me while I indulge myself.
I was once told "it’s your blog, write what you bloody well like”
Well here goes.

Today marks a year and a week since my world turned upside down. My soon-to-be-ex husband went out on a Friday night and forgot to come home. Fast forward 3 days later there I am flat hunting with him for his new pad.


As I was just coming to terms with my new found status and within four weeks of my marriage break up the second major blow struck.
My beloved Da was diagnosed with a rare bone cancer and the cards looked stacked against him. Thoughts of my own trials and tribulations seemed insignificant by comparison.
It was about this time I started this blog. Although it’s titled my road to madness, in reality it’s running that keeps the madness at bay.
A number of running buddies commented at the time that I was running like a demon. This was neither intended nor appreciated at the time. It was purely a means of release.

During this period of severe turbulence I was encouraged by my family and friends to continue with planned events and attempt to keep life “normal”.
Hence my attendance at the River Ayr thingy. An event that will have a special place in my heart forever more.
I formed a bond with a woman, who through a shared life experience could understand the rollercoster of emotions I was experiencing. Instantly I knew I was alone no longer. Isn’t it funny how you can feel an instant connection with someone?

This same weekend was to bring me the man I would instantly fall completely in love with. I tried to convince myself, somewhat unsuccessfully that it was all in my head and that it was improper of me to dare to find happiness in a time of such highly charged emotion.
Again, with the support of my family I was able to make tentative steps into my new life.
My phone bills will never be the same and the share price for Ryanair and Easyjet have rocketed.

Around Christmas time I became unwell. My body kind of gave up. All the stress of the last six months had taken its toll. And I was out the game. As you know I was to struggle with shingles over the next few months. I was feeling very much out of sorts at work too which wasn’t helping.
Having someone who would listen to my woes and share ideas and opinions was a revelation to me. I felt the time was coming to make changes.
How can a new relationship survive the onslaught of illness, ex’s and 400 miles? Well somehow, and I’m not quite sure how but it has and it is.

After the drama that was Shingles; I injured my back at work. Another bloody set back.
My training for the Calley was dealt a serious blow. Right up until two weeks before the event I was in serious pain. And then out of nowhere I felt a million times better. All the while I was being bolstered with positive messages of “its in the bag & piece of piss.” Having my Da and Dave working together on our support for the event made getting to the finish line an absolute joy.

This achievement marked a turning point for me. I felt like I had truly turned a corner. Gentle persuasion, on the verge of bullying prompted me to apply for, and successfully secure a new job. One in which I should be able to develop my skills and engage my brain a little.

So here I am a year and a week later. A new person? Probably not. Feeling more positive about the future? 100% yes.
My Da is doing really well right now. Latest check ups are looking good. He’s just taken charge of his slightly adapted new motor and is looking like a child on Christmas morning.
My children are a joy to me. Even the 15 year old who is chancing his arm.
I have a new job, which has given me a new lease of life.
And I have a pirate fireman to call my very own. If only we could do something about a distance reduction machine.

Much love,
Mrs Mac x

Wednesday, 8 July 2009

Not so witty ditty

I was going to write a really witty ditty about all thats been happening in the last week or so. but I've spent soooooo long reading all the other blogs that it's getting too late. So I'm gona make like a Race Princess and do It bullet point style.
  • No 1 son off camping with mate & family.
  • Dished out a few awards at the beginners/returnee’s night at the Striders.
  • Tried to run.
  • Failed to run miserably.
  • Family holiday for extended Brady Bunch booked.
  • Last week at work, good.
  • Last day at work, sad. Children/staff made a card, cried.
  • Got a train to Lahndan.
  • Stayed up late til 2nd eldest pirate daughter home safe.
  • Fire station open day with most of Brady bunch.
  • Wound up the high heid yin about mis quote in the paper.
  • Ate cheeseburgers.
  • Won to prize in the raffle !!!
  • Considered handing it back (only coz I didn’t think we had a John Lewis here, I live in the countryside. I know….. div)
  • Drove home from Lahndan…. Myself……in the daytime…..and it was busy!!
  • Had a water fight with the children, neighbours hate me already ;-)
  • Family movie and lottttttts of popcorn. No PirateL
  • Early bed.
  • Frantic cleaning…… not by me.
  • Most expensive pub in Surrey.
  • 2nd most expensive pub in Surrey.
  • Return from Lahndan
  • First day in new job, get a massage. I love this job.
  • 2nd day in new job, tea and cake, this job was made for me.
  • Tried to run.
  • Failed to run, miserably.

    Got that?
    Good!!
    Game over

    Mrs Mac……..
    xxx

Wednesday, 1 July 2009

Resistance Is Futile

Is it true?
Can it REALLY be?
Something strange is happening to me.
I fear the worst. I thought it might happen. Although, I did try to resist.
First sign of trouble occurred a few weeks ago when I discovered to my horror I was sporting a BLACK toenail. Good god in Govan how did that happen?

Now, being the president of a running club does not a runner make. Indeed, I am pleased to tell anyone who’ll listen that I am not a runner; I’m just someone who runs.

But now I think I’ve gone and done it.

On Saturday evening, following the Beattie's BBQ, I was meeting up with some workmates in the Toon for a few drinkies. Well they were drinking, I was driving.
When I happened upon my learned colleague Douglas, who to his credit is a sports therapist amongst other things. He was also slightly worse for wear and I was a little nervous. So I rolled up my trouser leg and asked him to take a look.
“Here mate, my leg is goupin’. Really sore at my knee, on the outside”
He launches in to some Latin drivel and I switch off. Then he ponders, puts his finger on the side of my knee and asks me to bend it.
“Is THAT sore?”
"Ouchhhhhhhhhh bloody hell YES".

“Auch” says he. It’s your ITB.
Well blow me. I first heard those three initials three years ago in Lochaber Leisure Centre when some fella who had just completed the race complained to the physio that his knee was sore. When she said it’s your ITB the guy questioned “and have I got one of them? An ITB?” “ooooooo I’ve got an ITB,” said chewing the fat stylie. Funny as, although not so good in the retelling. I have a video of it somewhere. But there is a bit of footage at the start of my Maw and Me at the wigwams with a bottle of 14.5% vino callapso. So maybe not for public viewing.

Anyway, I’m burbling on. So ITB problems, black toe nails, thinking that doing 54 miles in 23odd hours is enough to get me through RAW. I must be losing it. Either that or I am being taken over by those infectious people I choose to hang out with this weather and I am morphing in to a real live runner. Eeeeekkkk.

Ok so RAW is a bit over ambitious. I was either drunk or still high after completing the Cally. Probably both. But I do want to continue with training and I plan to set some targets for myself. Something I left in a past life when I was quite competitive. Tim & Muriel were talking about challenges they could do together. Something which appeals to me. So if I get the opportunity I’d like to put a plan into action. Just need to get the pirate to stay awake long enough to sort it out.

Catch ya,
Mrs Mac