The difference two weeks makes ...

So a couple of weeks ago, I was feeling pretty positive about my training for the race - 8 weeks to go and I'd managed to do a decent number of miles on my bike, including a couple of 55/60 mile rides with some riders that were far better than me, one that even encompassed the 3 Surrey hills that form the hardest part of the RideLondon100 race (even if that one did nearly kill me - couldn't actually stand up by the end of that!)  I had a plan to ratchet up my training - 3 x rides a week including a sprint, middle ride and a longer, slower ride.  I had even done a bit of reading around how to train for your first 100. According to that training plan, I was doing okay ... I was feeling nicely prepared and, given the longest I'd cycled before starting training for this race was about 25 miles, frankly I was feeling pretty pleased with myself.

Pride comes before a fall and all that ... I then found a bite/spot on my back which got more painful very quickly, developing into a large painful lump.  A few GP/hospital visits and half a course of antibiotics later, I was in St Helier's Surgical Assessment Unit having an abscess drained under local (plus morphine).  Crazy painful.  Not as bad as giving birth but I found myself doing my labour breathing pain control so clearly not that far off.  And it left me with a fairly deep, open wound on my back that needed to heal, and a systemic infection to recover from.

Nearly two weeks later and I haven't been able to get back on my bike yet, although I've persuaded the nurse to let me have a go on the turbo trainer and see how it goes.  I'm excited to be able to get back to training (I am not a very nice person when I can't exercise ...) but actually really nervous about whether I'm up to it yet and how much fitness I'm going to have lost over the 2.5 weeks since I was last on my bike.  It's also now only 6 and a bit weeks until the race and, whereas I was feeling like I had loads of time and was on course to follow a good training plan, I now feel like the race really isn't that far away and I'm way behind schedule ... not where I wanted to be at this point.

So I'm now trying to pick myself up again and get back into the right mindframe.  I had a great chat with a cycling buddy at work today (who has done a lot more long, long rides than me!) about fuelling for long rides and how to prepare, and that really helped give me some focus again.  I came home and you tube'd some videos about how to make a great pre-ride breakfast (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5nWsV0Be-vI) and oaty energy bars to eat on rides (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMJEIiWV3VQ).  So that's going to be my thing to do this weekend.  I'm about to get on my turbo trainer to try a quick ride and see how my back feels ... and, if that goes okay, I'm going to do a Friday evening ride with a friend.  So starting to see the light at the end of the 'no exercise' tunnel.

Thinking about how to get back into a better mindframe for the race made me think back to our first year after losing Ava.  Unsurprisingly I had a lot of low days - all the 'firsts' over the course of that year were really hard - my first mothers day without a baby (I felt like a fraud), our first Easter/holiday/birthdays/Christmas without her ... sometimes it was just so hard to get dressed and actually do anything. So I got into the habit, whenever I had a really low day, of listing to myself all the things that I was grateful for.  And that helped me pull myself up and look forwards rather than backwards - not away from my baby but towards the rest of my life.

So, what am I grateful for in my life now?

• I have an amazing husband who loves me, who is a fantastic dad to all of our children, and who will always be my best friend.  And who, very importantly, likes exercising and challenges nearly as much as me.
• I have a family that always has and always will look after each other.  When I was in pain after the surgery and Nick was away, my parents turned up on my doorstep and announced they were staying the night to help out.  My sister felt bad that I hadn't phoned her to come with me to the hospital (to be fair, I didn't tell her I was going so it really wasn't her fault!) They are great.
• My friends are just ace.  I have old friends that have known me since I was 11 and feed my soul, and new friends who feel like old friends.
• I get to do something to give back to Sands, who gave me so much in the darkest times of my life.  I get to use my professional training for their benefit as a trustee, and I get (through all you lovely people) to raise money to help them do all the awesome stuff that they do.

So all in all, I reckon I am a very lucky girl!  Time to buck up and get back into the training now ...

Its not just about the mums ...

This month is Sands Awareness Month and this year, Sands are focusing on dads. On average,  a baby is stillborn or dies shortly after they are born every 90 minutes in the UK, so it is likely that most of you know a man affected by this tragedy who may be suffering in silence. This isn't helped by the fact the subject is still a taboo for many.  So I thought I would follow Sands' lead and focus my post on this issue to help drive awareness. 

A survey by Sands found that almost a third of men who lost their baby were not referred to any source of support.  This isn't to say that dads will always want support in the same way as mums - everyone deals with the death of a baby differently.  But it is so important that they know how to access support if they need it.  When Ava died, Nick dealt with it very differently to me.  Partly, I think he found it different because he hadn't carried her for 9 months.  But also, he is just a very different person to me - far more practical.  He knew we couldn't do anything to change what had happened so wanted to focus on how to support me and help us move forwards.

However, the social stereotype that men should be ‘strong’ and bottle up their grief can stop bereaved men getting the support they need.  When my sis lost her triplets, I read a lot about baby loss and found this poem about dads by Rosanna Phelan, which really touched me:

He Lost His Baby Too

It must be very difficult
To be a man in grief.
Since "Men don't cry"; and "Men are strong"
No tears can bring relief.
It must be very difficult
To stand up to the test,
And field calls and visitors
So she can get some rest.
They always ask if she's alright
And what she's going through,
But seldom take his hand and ask
My friend, but how are you?
He hears her crying in the night
And thinks his heart will break,
He dries her tears and comforts her,
But 'stays strong' for her sake.
It must be very difficult
To start each day anew,
And try to be so very brave.
He lost his baby too.

Reading that poem always makes me well up - its so unfair to ignore the dad.  Thankfully, Nick has a lot of amazing friends and I know that, when we lost Ava, they all gave him support in their own way - letters, a drink down the pub, telling friends the news so that he didn't have to.  We were very lucky.  But not everyone is.

When asked whether men and women deal with grief after the death of a baby differently almost everyone who responded to the Sands survey agreed, so Sands is looking for other ways to provide support to dads (beyond the more common helpline and support groups). For example, over the last year or so, a number of 'Sands United' football teams have been set up providing a new and invaluable way for men to support each other through a terrible experience.

I am so very proud of the work that Sands do and I'm so glad that I'm able to contribute a little through this challenge and these posts.  Still terrified that I'm not going to be able to complete the challenge but I've been training hard to try to make sure that I justify all your donations!  And when I am riding on the day, I will be thinking of you all, and all the amazing work that will be done with your money, and I know that it will help me keep pedalling.  Cross your fingers for me - I'll need it!