Health and Fitness – Middle Age Fanclub

Running: It’s been a funny old year.

When I say ‘it’s been a funny old year’, it’s not been funny at all. For the first couple of months of 2025 I was struggling to shake off the effects of a bug I’d had over Christmas and New year and it just felt like I wasn’t making any progress at all. Running was no fun whatsoever.

By March I’d managed enough training to complete the Wakefield 10k in a reasonable enough time to keep me happy. It went better than I’d imagined it would and that was more than enough. I resolved to get out training and get my fitness levels back up to where they’d been a couple of years before. This had been around the time of having my pacemaker fitted, when strangely enough I’d been the fittest I’d been in decades and was running well, producing faster and faster times week in week out.

Sadly, as this year has progressed, things didn’t particularly change. There was little or no upturn in fortune or fitness and injury followed illness followed injury. If I got really lucky I’d be ill while carrying an injury!

Since March I think I’ve managed to run less than ten 10ks. Only one was in a race; the Leeds 10k which as ever was thoroughly enjoyable. The ones I’ve managed to complete in training have been slow and gruelling. Mostly though, I’ve been restricted to shorter distances with the odd bit of strength work thrown in for good measure. But even the resistance bands have fallen by the wayside. It’s been hard to stay motivated when I’ve been full of cold, feeling sick or nursing my back through a week at work, hoping that it doesn’t just ping and leave me in a world of pain. This happened in August and left me struggling to walk, let alone run! Not content with feeling that it had strained a little in the morning, in the evening I thought that it would be a good idea to start moving heavy bags around only to find that the ‘ping’ happened with the first attempted lift. Absolute agony!

I managed to find renewed motivation going back to work in September as I trained hard to be ready for my local 10k. I’d started off trying to run some quick 5ks before building up distances. Towards the end of September I realised that I hadn’t had my race number through for the 10k that was taking place at the beginning of October. Checking my emails revealed no confirmation though and then the penny dropped; I hadn’t actually entered. I took it as a sign. Still struggling to gain any momentum or fitness I decided just to take my time and train steadily towards the next 10k at the end of November, giving me loads of time to get sharp and ready for a race that is relatively flat and known for the chance it gives for personal bests.

Even then, things just wouldn’t go right. A couple of weeks ago I injured my foot and still have no idea how I did it. One minute I was walking along fine and the next it hurt to put my foot on the ground. That lasted a week before gradually getting better!

Over the last week I’ve been able to get in two runs; a 4 mile and a 5 mile. Neither was hugely quick, but I’m happy to have miles in the legs and on my 5 miler I have to say, I felt strong.

Hopefully, this is the start of just being able to get out running regularly. I managed to get out for a run on our recent holiday in Mallorca, even though I’d planned to go out twice…illness again. I love the change of scenery though and the fact that I can get straight into the pool once I’ve finished, so even just the one run is a bonus! Now, back in chilly England, I’ve got around a couple of weeks to get myself race ready. Maybe there can be a decent ending to my running year yet!

Wish me luck!

Book Review: ‘Outrunning The Demons’ by Phil Hewitt.

Running is one of those subject that can be quite divisive. As runners, we’re sold on its many qualities. It can almost feel like a drug in its addictive nature and despite the pain and the exhaustion, we always come back for more. Worse still, it can also become all that we want to talk about and so, we become ‘running bores’ on top of everything else. Believe me, other people love a running bore!

‘Outrunning The Demons’ is a collection of real-life tales from various runners of all abilities about the reasons why they run and the reasons why running has saved them. There are stories of bereavement, addiction and mental health challenges and all of them highlight the importance of running to those involved. In fact, Hewitt himself turned to running after being mugged and left for dead in 2016, so he’s living proof of the healing qualities of getting out for a run.

Since rediscovering running in my forties I’ve realised its importance in helping me think things through and its values in terms of my mental health. Then, having had a major heart procedure when I hit 50, running has become even more important, giving me at first a recovery goal and since then a lot of the strength needed just to keep going at times.

So ‘Outrunning The Demons’ felt both pertinent and personal to me. There was lots to relate to in these tales, as well as the type of pain and running ‘journeys’ that I couldn’t hope to understand. Among the 34 stories there are elite runners and there are people who only took up running because of the loss of a runner who was close to them. Charlie is a recovering drug addict, Theresa lost her firefighter husband in 9/11 and ran to take his place in a marathon, James an army veteran recovering from trauma in Iraq and Sujan suffers with anxiety brought on by a troubled childhood. All of them looked to running to help them cope again with every day life.

And there are loads more amazing stories to read about here. This is a book that’s as full of inspiration as it is pain. And it’s a book where you can’t fail to care about the people that you read about. So, at times it’s an emotional read. If you’re a fellow runner, you’ll undoubtedly recognise many of the emotions and be able to empathise with the trauma that some of these ordinary folk have endured.

Hewitt’s own tale is startling and perhaps worthy of a book in itself. But instead, he spent time bringing together people from all corners of the globe who have sought out a similar solution when faced with the kind of problems that might otherwise have seen them go under.

‘Outrunning The Demons’ is at times an incredible read. It’s subtitled ‘lives transformed through running’ and is comprehensive in recounting what really are some remarkable transformations. Always interesting and always inspiring, it became hard for me to put down at times. A life affirming read, whether you’re a runner or not.

I give ‘Outrunning The Demons’…

Power Up signs, smiling more and a bloody cricketer! The Leeds 10k.

Having been forced to miss last year’s Leeds 10k due it falling on the same day as my daughter’s 18th birthday, I was looking forward to this one. It’s an event that I came late to, having only done my first one about 4 years ago, but I always really enjoy the race.

All in all, it was a good day for me. Illness meant that I’d managed less than a month’s training – 7 runs – and only a couple of 10k runs in that time. That said, having pulled out of my last 2 races in April and May, it was nice to feel well enough to even get round one for a change!

I’d been to a gig the night before and so my legs were pretty sore from all that standing and dancing, which resulted in some lovely shin pain all the way around the 10k. Nothing else for it but to grit my teeth and get through it though!

I’d hoped to run it in under 55 minutes, as that was my quickest run in training. Alas, it wasn’t to be! A slow last mile, where I just didn’t quite have the legs to get me up the last couple of hills quickly enough, brought me in slower than I would have liked, but I have to admit to being pretty pleased with my time of 55 and a half minutes.

It’s a brilliant race to do. There’s always lots of support out to cheer you on your way, which actually does help. The route is fairly undulating; some nice flat parts, some lovely downhill stretches, but some nasty hills – particularly coming back into Leeds in the final mile – so it’s a fairly challenging course.

This year, rather than writing some kind of report, talking you through almost every step I take I’ve decided to take a different approach. Sat at home afterwards I had a moment to reflect on some of my favourite bits and some of the things that occurred to me as I plodded my way round the course.

Choirs. There were at least 3 choirs out on the course and all of them gave me, and I daresay thousands of others, a timely boost. The best of them though was outside a parade of shops in Headingley. All wearing black and yellow, all ladies and just sensationally good. I actually ran past applauding. I mean imagine being kind enough to think, let’s get together and sing some songs to those knackered looking people who’ll be going past on Sunday. I just think it’s a lovely thing to do.
A one man band. Near Hyde Park, I think. Just as we were crossing a road to head to a much needed downhill stretch I heard music. Drums, a keyboard, maybe some guitars. And then when I looked it was one bloke playing drums to a background of what I assume was a programmed synthesiser. Just rocking away without a care in the world!
Volunteers. Loads of them. Whether they were at drinks stations or just marshalling along the route, the volunteers are the heart of any event. Sometimes, when you’re feeling pretty shattered and some kind soul in a high viz bib tells you, ‘You’re doing great’ or ‘You’re amazing’ it really helps. Invariably, I’m not but it’s such a lovely thing to hear!
Fancy dress. I’ve never understood the need to run in fancy dress. Don’t get me wrong, I really admire those who do it, but have always felt that it’s enough just dragging myself around without a costume! This year I spotted runners dressed in all manner of costumes; a flamingo, a sloth, a lion complete with mane (this was in about the last half mile and I lengthened my stride, determined not to be beaten by bloody Simba!), a sunflower and a zebra. My son – a little too happily for my liking – also informed me that I was beaten by a man wearing full cricket whites complete with jumper, a bat and all of the padding; a really heavy outfit to run a 10k in on a hot day! It takes a special kind of person to commit to something to that extent!
High 5s. I’m not normally one for a high 5. Not very touchy feely, me. However, whenever I do a race there a families with children who will hold out their hands to get a high 5 from the runners. Again, it’s just another lovely thing about this type of event and I try to go out of my way to indulge at least a few of them. Kids always get a bit of a kick out of it and it’s just really rewarding to hear them laugh or see them smile as you run over. That said, given my sweaty red face, it must be terrifying for them as I approach!
Power Up Signs. The effort that had gone into some of these cardboard masterpieces this year was amazing. If you’re not in the know people sometimes hold signs saying ‘Power Up Here’ or something similar while watching these races. The idea is – like a video game – you touch the sign and receive a ‘power up’. This year people had drawn Sonic on them, characters from Mario and all manner of other stuff. And they looked great. Sadly though, they don’t actually work!
And finally…smiling! The amount of smiling faces who turn out to give some encouraging is always a real positive and I really appreciate. In fact, there’s nothing better than spotting my family somewhere near the finish, smiling and screaming at me. This year though, I decided that it might help my running if I smiled more. Let’s just say I don’t ‘wear’ running well. I look knackered and my face and body must seem to scream ‘HELP!’ to the casual observer. So, for this run I tried to relax, smile and even have a bit of a laugh and I think it kind of worked. Mind you, it didn’t work on the final long hill when a fellow runner dressed head to toe in various dayglo colours took it upon himself to turn Mr. Motivator and shout encouraging stuff like ‘Come on, guys we’ve got this’ and ‘We’re all in this together!’ as well as singing lines from whatever song popped into his vacant head. Smile? It was all I could do not to tell him to shut the f… up!

Anyway, I’m off to find my next running adventure as the next one booked in isn’t until October! I’ll be back for Leeds next year though!

Middle Aged Moans and Creaking Bones.

It’s been a bit of a difficult start to the year in terms of health and fitness. It started with me catching some kind of bug just after New Year, which pretty much knocked me for six. It felt flu-like (I promise it wasn’t just the mythical ‘man flu’) and really didn’t help in preparing for the term ahead at work, as well as the new year in general. And it’s been largely downhill ever since…

A few Sundays ago, I was meant to be running the Pontefract 10k, easily one of my favourite races of the year. Training hadn’t been going well though and the most I’d ran in over a month had been 4.5 miles, which was a long way short of what I needed to complete for a 10k (6.2 miles). Still, despite the lack of miles in the legs I’d resolved to run and just give it everything I had in order to get over that finish line in a half decent time. And then the Saturday before happened.

On the Saturday before the race, I woke up feeling fine. I’d had a decent sleep and was up and showered early and ready to go. The usual Saturday plan is to head to a local country park in order to volunteer for ParkRun or just get some washing in and then head to the supermarket to do the weekly shop. With my son busy revising, it meant that we wouldn’t be volunteering, so once the washing was in I headed to the supermarket where, up to a point, everything was going swimmingly.

Suddenly though, as I headed to the checkout, I felt violently sick and my stomach was turning more than my washing machine. I dumped my trolley and ran to the toilets, just in case – can you imagine the eternal shame of throwing up in your local supermarket? Nothing happened though and so when I felt a little better I rescued my shopping and went and paid for it.

It happened again though, almost the minute that I walked in through my front door. To cut a long, repetitive story short, I ended up in bed, sleeping like a baby for the next couple of hours. On waking up, I realised pretty quickly that I wouldn’t be making the trip to Pontefract the next day.

This was the second race in two months that I’ve had to pull out of. The first one, in April, was just because I felt extremely tired. I didn’t even really want to race, having done the same one last year and hated every second of it! It was only bloody mindedness that made me enter again!

And so, that Pontefract Sunday was spent trying to pick myself up from feeling low and working out how to put things right. I had four weeks until my next race – the Leeds 10k, which is always fantastic. I decided just to take a slightly different approach and resolved to think less about times and distances and just make sure that I get out and run. No excuses, no pondering and deliberating and talking myself out of things…just get out with a minimum distance in mind and run. Hopefully fitness would come and as the race approached I would be able to start preparing properly and getting some longer distances in.

As I write on 2nd June, it’s been going well. I dragged myself out and did a post work 5k on the Monday evening after having missed out on Pontefract and I’ve been keeping going since then with 4 runs in total as well as several long walks and some yoga. My latest run was a Friday morning 10k which was nowhere near as tough as I’d expected and although I was slightly irritated with my time (just over 56 minutes) I’ve told myself that it doesn’t matter and that if I can run under 55 minutes for the Leeds 10k, then that will represent a bit of a triumph.

Hopefully, by the middle of June I’m approaching some sort of fitness. In an ideal world I won’t be struck down by another bout of mystery illness and so be able to just slowly build my strength back up. It’s been good just to give myself a kick up the backside and adopt a ‘no excuses’ attitude.

Roll on Sunday 15th June and the Leeds 10k! Fingers tightly crossed until the actual day though!

The Pacemaker Diaries: It’s been two years.

You wouldn’t know it with the amount that I probably bang on about it, but I genuinely didn’t want having a pacemaker to define me. Still, I write about it, think about it constantly, find myself telling people things about it and frequently catch myself looking at my scar in the mirror or prodding away at the bit at the top of my chest where my wires are sticking up, right at the surface.

That said, a quick search of my posts tells me that the last time I wrote a ‘Pacemaker Diary’ was actually in November 2023, a whole year after it was fitted. So, even though it’s been mentioned in some pieces I’ve written since, maybe I’m not banging on about it quite as much as I imagine. Anyone I speak to regularly can feel free to correct me on that though!

I was prompted to write this post because of Facebook memories of all things. In the lead up to Christmas and New Year just gone it felt like every few days there’d be something popping up where I was thanking people for their support or updating friends on my progress. They reminded me of both how poorly I’d been and also how far I’d come and they made me do a lot of thinking about the little machine that sits in my chest.

It’s been over 2 years since I had the pacemaker fitted. I didn’t pay much attention to the anniversary this time around. Sometimes there’s just too much going on in life for you to pause and have a think about stuff. But those Facebook memories changed all that and made me want to write something down about what life’s like these days. Self indulgent? I don’t know really, but I guess if you think that way you have the option of clicking that little x in the corner of your screen and not reading on.

I think writing about it simply helps me get on with life, which might be a bit more understandable when I tell you what it’s all like.

The pacemaker makes me feel a lot more comfortable about life, that’s for sure. I hardly ever worry about my heart. But paradoxically, it is always there to remind of just how poorly I was and the long, long time that it took me to get better. On top of that it’s a constant reminder of how low it all made me feel and the worryingly negative effects it had on my mental health.

There are both positives and negatives when it comes to having this device though and those reminders on social media made me think about a few of them. The first is just a bit of a change, I suppose, although does feel slightly negative. These days, my heart literally thumps when there’s not really been a great deal of effort. I’ve noticed it when climbing stairs and also that when getting into bed and straightening out the duvet, once I settle down my heart will be thumping! As someone who had an unnaturally low heart rate prior to all this – one of the reasons for the pacemaker – that takes a bit of getting used to!

Having the pacemaker has really made me focus on my health and fitness to the point where I’m really quite obsessive and possibly even a little evangelical about running! Silly really, but it genuinely makes me feel strong being able to run, especially in actual races. I couldn’t recommend it enough, even though I’m aware it’s not everybody’s cup of tea!

Another negative is that I live with a heart monitor by the side of my bed. This makes me feel really, really old! The monitor doesn’t do much, but I’m aware it’s feeding data back to the hospital which still feels a little bit weird. As I mentioned earlier as well, I have another scar as well as a strange bit on my chest where my wires just stick upwards. It’s a neat little scar, but those wires spoil things and coupled with the big scar that I have on my chest from a childhood heart operation, it’s not a great look!

My condition means that I still get heart palpitations, albeit nowhere near as regularly as I was having them for large parts of 2022 before my operation. However now, when they come I can rest assured that the pacemaker will kick in after about 5 seconds and stop them. It’s still quite a frightening thing, especially when it feels like the pacemaker isn’t going to react. The thought of having them for untold hours and just trying to get on with my day while wondering if I was about to pass out is a memory that still lingers! Still, that pacemaker is reassuring though.

Another drawback is that my left arm and shoulder don’t seem to work very well anymore. My scarring is really close to my left shoulder and I assume that it’s affected things as I haven’t got full movement and my left arm isn’t as ‘strong’ as it used to be. I mean, it wasn’t strong anyway, but it’s just a bit pathetic nowadays!

The final gripe I have is with my aftercare. I’ve only had one follow up appointment with a cardiologist since it all happened. Even that wasn’t actually scheduled. It was an appointment about a 24 hour monitor I’d worn, but in between times I’d had to have my pacemaker fitted, so the appointment was made later because the cardiologist didn’t realise and had to spend a load of time reading my notes before actually seeing me! Since then – January 2023 – there have been a couple of scans done but no meeting with actual doctors, which feels wrong.

I have had a letter from my hospital saying that a planned appointment had been rescheduled for later in the year, but I hadn’t even been informed about the planned appointment, so it’s all a bit of a mystery really! Luckily, I feel fit and healthy but it is concerning not to be speaking to someone when we’re almost 2 years on from the last appointment.

All in all, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind. Two years of major change that, just when you think you’ve almost forgotten about it and are living pretty normally, comes back to haunt you via bloody Facebook of all things! Clearly, while this pacemaker doesn’t really define me, it’s never going to leave me either!

Running: The Morley 10k, 2023.

Last Sunday, the 8th October saw the second ever Morley 10k race. It marked a quite significant date for me personally too though, as it was almost 11 months since I had the heart surgery to have my pacemaker fitted.

It’s been something of an eventful (almost) year. Sadly more downs than ups too, but all of that has been well documented in other blog posts throughout the last 11 months. However, when I was in hospital I made a vow that I’d complete at least three 10k races by the time my one year pacemaker anniversary came around. Sunday was the third and it was significant because it had also been the last one I’d done before everything went wrong for me in October and November of last year. Here’s how it went.

I felt sick with nerves as I stood on the start line. My family were a only few metres away on the pavement and on more than one occasion it crossed my mind to go and join them and tell them that I couldn’t do the race. People felt too close, it was too warm and the hill that we were starting on looked as daunting as hell, even though I’d ran it countless times before. The day before I’d been genuinely excited about it, but now, around an hour and 10km away from the finish line almost everything was telling me just to walk home.

Start lines of races can be funny things for me. Sometimes, I stand there feeling genuinely intimidated. Everyone seems fitter and younger than me. They’ve got much better trainers. And when I’m feeling particularly sorry for myself, none of them have health problems like me, either. Stupid really, but that’s how it can be. On other occasions, you get the feeling that everyone wants everyone else to have the race of their life. The excitement is palpable and the atmosphere is infectiously positive.

Thankfully though, I talked myself out of any silly decisions and got myself across the start line bang on 9am!

It’s a hilly course and while I won’t talk you through every step, there’s a lot to talk about and almost all of it involves running. Firstly, quite a few of the town came out to show their appreciation of the nine hundred and odd of us who thought it was a good idea to be up and running so early on a Sunday morning. Perhaps they were a bit bewildered by it all and who could blame them, but I really hope that the event grows and grows and becomes a staple for both runners and residents, because it was genuinely lovely to see people out cheering us on and from a personal point of view, it’s a real boost. I still don’t believe the stewards who shout out stuff like, ‘You’re looking good!’ as I pass, but by God their positivity helps! For the record though, I generally look like a tall, skinny bloke whose head has been replaced by a sweaty red balloon when I’m running, so cheers to anyone who puts a positive spin on that!

On Sunday, it quickly became apparent that my legs weren’t feeling too powerful. If you’ve seen them, you’ll know why! But I’d put the training in; plenty of runs, lots of hills, lots of 10ks and lots of other exercise. So, it was a bit of a puzzle, but I just put it down to my mood more than anything else and tried to relax as best I could.

Having got through the first long climb, we turned right and ran through Morley town centre and then down the hill towards Morley Bottoms. The flat and the downhill was much appreciated and gave me the chance to gather my thoughts a little bit, as well as picking up a little bit of pace. By the time we came to another long climb I was well into my running and it felt like I was coping well. It helps knowing the route so well, although I hadn’t ran it this year in preparation, but I’d had plenty of practice at hills as it can feel like that’s all Morley is at times!

Once we’d climbed said hill it was time to double back on ourselves and the race takes to the other side of the road and back down again. By this point several of the leaders had long since passed us as well as probably a couple of hundred others who all looked like they were coping better than me! I opened my stride a bit on the downhill section and, realising that we had at least a mile of downhill or flat sections, decided that it was time to start finding a bit of pace. Halfway back down the hill I spotted something on the other side, still climbing the hill that spurred me on even more – someone running in a T-Rex suit! Dodgy heart or not, I was not being caught by that!

I knew that picking up the pace could be a risky strategy though. I didn’t feel quite right and was wary of simply running out of steam by the end when, surprise surprise, you head up a really steep incline to the finish. That said, I knew my family would be waiting anxiously at the end of this section, given my health issues and so I felt it was better to get to them sooner rather than later.

Morley Bottoms on race day is fantastic. Just a wall of noise and smiling faces. It felt great to run through and although I couldn’t see my family for a while, I spotted them eventually and gave them the thumbs up as I actually wasn’t feeling too bad. Shortly after passing them was the halfway point and knowing the route, it felt like the end was almost in sight.

My plan from the start was to try and run around 55 minutes, but it wasn’t long before the pacer had passed me. However, by the time we’d got to around 4 and a half miles I’d caught him again. Sadly, as we began to climb another hill, I lost him once more! I stayed optimistic by reminding myself that the T-Rex still hadn’t caught me though!

By the time I got to Morley Bottoms for the second time and almost the finish, the place seemed to have got even louder and more enthusiastic. I was feeling genuinely sick though, so the noise and the fact that a couple of people – cheers Steve and the lass that I didn’t recognise! – called out my name, which again was a timely boost. I was almost there.

The hill up from Morley Bottoms turned into my own personal Everest! It’s so steep! Virtually all strength drained away from my legs straight away and it was a case of just keeping moving. I almost convinced myself to stop and walk, but kept going as there was so much encouragement and I was utterly relieved to reach the point where it evens out a bit.

As we passed the town hall I heard my family before I saw them and again it provided a timely boost. Bizarrely, it prompted a sprint finish from me too, something I didn’t realise I had in my locker any more at my age. The heart didn’t matter, the tired legs and aching body were of no concern and by the time I crossed the line I was catching the few people in front of my having gone past one or two in the last hundred yards!

I thought I’d be emotional, but wasn’t. I was just elated. The time wasn’t quite what I wanted, but it wasn’t half bad for a bloke with a dodgy heart and pipe cleaners for legs. And anyway, when everyone looks so pleased and the whole town is out cheering you on, it’s kind of difficult to start crying in front of the post office!

So clutching my medal and my bag of sweets – they’d ran out of water, apparently – I scanned the crowd until I found my family again, reassured the kids I was ok, had some photos taken and then we all wandered off happily back down the inevitable hill to go home.

Big thanks to Morley Running Club for everything they do to put this brilliant event together. Same time next year?

Defining Recovery: It’s not as simple as just resting up.

The idea for this blog came from a tweet that I liked a few weeks ago. It popped up on my timeline just because someone I follow had liked it and I usually scroll straight past most of these ones. However, there was a picture of a man wrapped up, wearing a hat, out in the woods by the looks of things and it made me think of myself doing similar, day after day for these last few months.

The tweet read, ‘Healing is not as simple as ‘rest’. It’s exercising, rehab, falling down, fearing and going deep into the pain and fighting your way back.’

In a strange way, the tweet made my day. Since having my pacemaker fitted and spending months off work, I’ve gone through all manner of stuff, but have lost count of how many times I’ve felt the need to brush it off and tell anyone who’s asked that I’m ‘slowly getting there’.

Over 3 months on from my operation and I thought I’d try to explain my own personal experience of recovery. I haven’t fully recovered and I think feeling that way is actually a long way off, but I think I’ve managed to get myself into a position where I feel a great deal stronger, fitter and more confident about my heart. So, before I start to forget the things I’ve been through, I thought I’d get some of it down.

I didn’t think I’d done a lot of resting, until my family told me otherwise. I was talking about the fact that I thought I hadn’t really got many naps in during my time at home and it brought about a few smiles from those around me. Apparently, the truth is more that I was napping pretty much every day for the first three weeks of being out of hospital. And while in hospital I just felt like I lurched from nap to nap, even pretending to be asleep on a regular basis so that the bloke opposite wouldn’t talk to me!

So in fact, I’ve been so exhausted during my recovery that I can’t even remember how it’s been a lot of the time. The first few weeks are a blur. I know that they featured a lot of pyjama action, a lot of irritability on my part and, so I’m told, a lot of napping. I’m told that there were times where I’d just fall asleep mid conversation, which sounds a lot of fun. I also remember feeling very frightened by it all, worried that one wrong move would pull the pacemaker wires out of place meaning that I’d have to go back into hospital.

When my first sick note ran out – after a week – I had a telephone appointment with my doctor. This made me realise how poorly I was. We spoke for a good while and I felt like I was having to fend him off at times, as he alluded to me going back to hospital. Then, when he settled for just issuing another sick note, he instantly doubled the time that I’d asked for. This was good, in that it settled me down a bit while also making me think that I could find lots of things to do with all of that time. It became bad pretty quickly when I realised that I wasn’t strong enough to even sit and read for over long, before I was nodding off! It quickly felt like it would be a very long month.

There have been quite a few unusual times since then. While recovering, I seemed to develop a bit of a stutter and at times simply couldn’t get the words out. Furthermore, I’d find myself talking about something one minute, then unable to remember a word or where the conversation was going next. And people would tell me about things I’d said and done, but I literally couldn’t remember a single bit of it. And – as per the quote that inspired this – there’s also been a bit of falling down. It’s amazing how many times I’ve taken a tumble when just trying to tie my laces, but that left hand side of mine just wouldn’t work for a good few weeks!

The healing or recovery process has been one of the most frustrating times of my life. I joke about tying my laces, but there were plenty of times in the first couple of weeks where someone had to tie them for me. My wife had to help me get dressed, as well as undressed, including doing things like zipping up my coat and putting a hat on my head if we went for a walk! I hated it, but it’s definitely the kind of thing that keeps you grounded, in terms of how you think your recovery’s going! I found that lack of independence incredibly frustrating and it was something that I struggled to deal with as normally, if something needs done, I just do it myself. Then suddenly you’re in a place where you’re not allowed to even get a glass of water and someone’s started doing your jobs around the house. Awful!

A combination of beta blockers and lack of sleep (I think brought on by taking beta blockers) made me feel like I wasn’t recovering at all. Every day, I’d just feel like I’d taken another hit and was back to square one, which was kind of demoralising. I’d be out on a walk, feeling like I was definitely getting stronger, watching my heart beat not quite hit what it had the day before at the top of a hill and being able to walk just a little bit further and yet I still couldn’t sleep, still couldn’t remember things, still couldn’t hold a conversation without telling someone to forget it because I couldn’t remember what I was going to say!

I struggled to sleep for well over a month. It’s still hit and miss now, but when it was night after night after night, it felt like it might never go back to normal and that being awake until 3am might well be how it was now. As well as leaving me exhausted, it also had me worried that I wouldn’t be able to hold down a job. Because of this, for a good while it felt like my life was about to encounter an even bigger change and it was a fear that didn’t sit well at all with me.

By far the most difficult part of the whole healing process has been the mental side of things. I’ve always felt that I was mentally very strong, but for the last few months I’ve been filled with a kind of fear and doubt that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before. I suppose it’s kind of a given that I feared I might die, particularly in the early stages when I didn’t fully understand what was going on and then again when I stopped taking beta blockers. I felt that they were absolutely crucial to keeping me safe and so although I was pleased to come off them, as I was assured that they were adding a lot to my fatigue, I was nervous about what could happen when they were taken away.

It’s been difficult adjusting mentally to not being at work. Alongside that though, has been a bit of fear about going back there too. My final episode with palpitations and extreme dizziness happened in my classroom and I’ve not set foot in there since. The prospect of doing so again fills me with trepidation, even though thinking logically, I know it’s not the classroom’s fault. Nor is it work’s fault. But both things terrify me. I went back for an attendance meeting recently and to discuss my phased return to work and despite having worked there for 8 years I was physically shaking when I entered the building. It took me more than an hour to feel anywhere near right again and it was only when I ventured down to my old department that I settled more.

I’ve suffered with guilt the whole way through my recovery. Having covered up what was wrong for over 6 months, I feel awful about what I put my family through. My wife and kids watched me pass out in the airport before we went on holiday, as the palpitations hit and that makes me feel horrible about myself. My daughter has watched me like a hawk ever since and it’s been a balancing act dealing with the guilt as well as stopping myself becoming irritable as she’s asked again and again if I’m alright.

But the guilt hasn’t stopped with my immediate family. I know that my mam and dad have worried too, as well as my sister. Come to think of it, I’ve probably had my most in depth conversations ever with my dad across the time of my recovery as he’s opened up a bit and made it clear that he was worried about me. Believe me, us northern men aren’t always so forthcoming when it comes to our feelings, particularly when we’re of my dad’s vintage!

I’ve struggled with similar feelings where friends are concerned. Nobody knew a thing and I’m not sure what people must think of me for not at least confiding in one of them! Friends from work have had to cover my classes, set my work and even learn to adjust to life without the kind of ridiculously inane emails that I send on a daily basis. I really can’t thank them enough. Knowing that my other kids – my classes – are in their safe hands has eased that particular side of my guilt, but it’s felt like a real struggle. I know people would tell me to not feel guilty, but it’s been hard to avoid.

In all, like the tweet said, recovering has not been as simple as just resting. In truth, it’s been the most difficult time of my life and I’ve had to adjust from being someone who genuinely felt a bit invincible to being someone who has had to face up to just how vulnerable he actually is. It’s not a process I’ve liked and not one I really want to accept, which means that while I head back to work very soon, I’ll have to continue to work hard at my fitness and any mental blocks that might just be lingering.

For now though, returning to work will bring a sense of normality, but definitely not an end to my recovery or any sense of being healed. If you see me at work and ask how I am, I’ll more than likely say ‘good’ or ‘better’. What I mean to say but can’t, is that I feel sh*t scared, utterly terrified, panic stricken at the thought of doing any of this again, as well as riddled with guilt because of what I feel like I’ve put family and friends through. But, to paraphrase the tweet that inspired this, I’ll continue exercising, falling down, fearing, going deep into pain and fighting my way back.

Poetry Blog: ‘Every day, a walk’

I wrote this poem because I’ve become a little bit obsessed with walking. If you don’t know, I had a pacemaker fitted in November and as a result, I’m trying to work my way back to fitness and some kind of normality.

At the time of writing the poem, I was walking every day, like the title suggests. I couldn’t run, because the pacemaker was too uncomfortable and I just wasn’t well enough, so I settled for walking. However, Christmas got in the way of that, so now that my recovery is quieter again and my kids have gone back to school, I walk…every day. I’m building up to running again.

I got so obsessed with walking in the lead up to Christmas that I would get quite grumpy – or more accurately, more grumpy than usual – if I wasn’t able to get out. And I would be out whatever the weather too, because I came to depend on the routine of it all and it was proving a more than adequate substitute for long runs. Furthermore, it gave me time to think about what was going on in my life.

Anyway, it was only a matter of time until I wrote a poem about it. When something takes up such a big space in my life, I tend to write about it. As you’ll see with my next poem, ‘Taking Out The Bins’. Just kidding…

Every day, a walk.

Every day, a walk.
Some days you feel like you're fighting back,
others, like death warmed up.
Almost all, you're glad to be alive.
Whether breathless
or jelly legged,
alone with your thoughts
or in company and chattering away
about anything and everything,
swaddled like a newborn against the biting cold
in your big coat
that she zips up for you, because you cannot,
dazed by the noise or the light,
or the breeze,
bruised but not battered,
tweaked but not torn,
smiling, but not quite as happy as you'd like to be
and always, always tired.
Every day, a walk.

My first walk after surgery came two days after getting home from hospital. Down one street and back up another. I was utterly shattered when I got home.

At that time, I couldn’t dress myself properly, such was the restriction on my movement from the scarring and bruising around the site of my pacemaker. So not only did my wife have to zip up my coat, she had to put my hat on and do my laces too! Then she reversed the process when we got back home. Her reward was to watch me fall asleep on the settee!

I’ve gradually got stronger since then. Some walks feel great, while others are an absolute grind! Today’s, for instance, felt horrendous and I was out of breath and staggering a little having not gone far at all. There are good days and bad days though and hopefully tomorrow’s a bit better!

The final thing on this particular poem is just to mention that it came out of thinking the title out loud. I said it as I walked through the door from a walk one morning and liked it, so I quickly scribbled some ideas down and out of that came a poem! Funny, how inspiration can strike!

As ever, I hope you enjoyed the poem and always appreciate any comments, so feel free to leave one.

Fighting fit: The mind boggles!

As I write, it’s been 62 days since having my pacemaker fitted. A rough estimate puts that at 1492 hours or 89,543 minutes. That’s a lot of time to think. A lot of time to worry, to feel low or even just to find yourself giving up. However, there have been positives in that time too and I hope that from today, I’m going to start feeling the positives outweigh the negatives.

My last ‘fighting fit’ update was a few weeks ago. In the time since then there have been good and bad days. Christmas and New Year came and went and if anything, they slowed my progress down. Not only was my diet a bit worse, but the festivities take up so much of our time that I didn’t manage to fit in anywhere near enough exercise. Turns out no one wants to wander slowly around the streets keeping an eye on a wobbly, wheezing middle aged man dressed in a long coat and a bobble hat when there’s Christmas films to be watched or left over turkey knocking around.

However, I enjoyed both Christmas and New Year. We managed to see some family and despite the fact that my kids are a bit older now – 13 and 16 – it was still nice to see them open their presents. And I always enjoy seeing what my wife makes of the gifts that I’ve bought her. It’s nice to give gifts and it was nice this year that I bought my wife something she really wouldn’t have expected, but really liked. It was a print based around The Fairytale of New York, her favourite Christmas song. If you’re a music fan and enjoy artwork you might want to check out where it’s from – www.stuffbymark.co.uk – his art really is ace!

Once all of the celebrations were out of the way and the kids were back at school, there was a lot to think about. Given the return of a quiet house, the bonus of having the ability to think returned too! My main conclusion has been that I need to do more exercise and to do it regularly if I’m going to get my normal life back.

So, that’s what I’ve been doing. I’ve had a few more visits to my favourite park and gone back to look at the two animal sculptures. This time I made sure to read the inscriptions and one of them gave me a lovely glowing feeling. It was on the Harry the Hare sculpture and it was about the fact that a local business had commissioned it. One line in particular got me. It just read, “For the people of Morley.” What a great gift! I hope others appreciate it and take time out to go and have a look. It’s literally a work of art! Whether it’ll succumb to vandalism, who knows? But I sincerely hope not. Anyway, here he is below.

And here’s the owl that I visited again the next time I was in the park.

The mental side of my recovery is something I’ve found really tough going. I’m not used to being poorly and not used to being unable to do the things I want to, physically. I’ve found it all very frustrating. I enjoy my work, but haven’t been in since all of this started. Furthermore, I’m faced with another month off sick now too. It’s led me to see pretty low days and I joined an online support group to see if it would help me.

Talking about my problems isn’t really me, but I’ve managed to ask a few questions and listen to what other people have been through and it’s really helped. Apart from anything else, it’s comforting to know that there are lots of people going through the same as me and lots of them who know a lot more than me and are happy to pass on advice.

The support group has also encouraged me to read a bit about pacemakers and what’s happened to me and that’s been a real positive. It was explained in hospital and on the visit to the cardiologist, but I suppose understandably, I didn’t really take it all in. Anyway, reading about my pacemaker and its genius has really made my mind boggle. It’s about the size of a matchbox but it has the technology to store a ton of data about what’s going on in there, while also pretty much making my heart work properly. I guess we shouldn’t be that surprised by the capability of modern medical technology…but I still am.

Another form of support came as a Christmas gift. My daughter bought me the book below – with her own money for the first time ever – and told me it was so that I could read it and not feel like I was going through it alone. Even typing that feels emotional, so you can imagine how I felt on Christmas day!

It’s quite a remarkable book by a poet called David Toms, who was born with a rare heart condition and faced up to his problems in many ways. In the book he talks a lot about the power of walking and, as this is something I do a lot, I could really relate to his story. He also eventually had to get a pacemaker, so what he had to say about that felt really useful too. Reading the book also helped me to see that I could get through what’s going on with me. David Toms has faced up to a great deal more than I have and despite whatever setbacks or challenges, he’s found the strength to just keep going. So, keep going is exactly what I’ll do.

I’m beginning to realise how long it’s going to take me to feel better both physically and mentally. Two months on and I’m still tired out very easily, especially compared to the way I was before and the level of fitness I had. The area around my pacemaker and my scar is still sore and my movement still restricted and I’m left breathless much more often than I’d like. And mentally, testing myself out terrifies me, but I’m just so incredibly frustrated by how weak I feel. Even when I get back to the normality of work, I know that I’ll still be nowhere near fitness and nowhere near feeling confident. It seems it’s going to be a long road.

And with that, I promise to update you whenever something interesting happens. Fingers crossed that it’s not any kind of setback though!

New Year’s (quiet) resolutions!

It’s that time of year again. Time to put the last one behind you and start kidding yourself that everything will be a great deal better for the next 365 days simply because one year rolled over into the next one. A new year, a fresh start, time to make some changes and all that.

As it happens, things have been so bad for me lately that the turn of the year is actually just convenient for change in my life. My previously documented health problems mean that things need to change and I’m now just about well enough to start changing them. On top of that, I think I can be more than hopeful that next year will be far better than this one was!

I’m keen not to set myself too many big targets though, hence the quiet resolutions. And I know that there are previous targets and goals that I’ve set and then never really done anything about, so I’ll stick to a manageable number this year. I mean, it’s still very early in the year and healthwise, I already feel shattered, so let’s keep things in perspective!

Here goes…

Stop keeping secrets. An important one, this. It’s not me blatantly telling anyone who reads that they can’t trust me, by the way. However, I kept my heart problems to myself last year, in the hope that they’d go away and that I wouldn’t have to bother anyone. Fat lot of good that did me! Hopefully, there won’t be much to report, but if there’s any action in my chest, I’ll be sure to let someone know. Anything more and I’ll blab to the nearest medical professional. Common sense, I know, but that’s not always been my strong point where health is concerned.
Get fit…again. Heart problems blighted last year for me, culminating with time spent in hospital and the shock of having to have a pacemaker fitted. It’s been a long recuperation and it’s left me feeling decidedly unfit and still pretty poorly. I’m breathless and wobbly on my feet if we walk too far! Just before Christmas though, my cardiologist gave the all clear to start running again, albeit really gradually. I’ll freely admit that this is something that scares the living daylights out of me, but once I find a bit of courage, I’ll be back out there getting fit. Hopefully, come the Spring time, I can start taking part in races again. Baby steps for now though. I’ll keep you posted!
Get healthy and stay that way. I’ve been off work now for around 7 weeks and to be honest, while I know when my latest sick note ends, I’m really not sure when I’ll be well enough to go back to work, although I hope it’s sooner rather than later. And then there’s the matter of getting back to normal life. It’s not just been about being off work. If I run upstairs, I’m out of breath. If my clothes are too tight, I struggle to get them on or off and it hurts to do so. Tying my laces still hurts. If I take one thing too many out of the cupboard, I struggle with the weight on my left hand side. I can’t think fast and I struggle to get my words out quite frequently; I don’t know why. And I’m genuinely quite scared when I feel any kind of activity in my chest. So it’s not just the physical side of things that need to get better. It’s all too easy to tell people that you’re ‘getting there’ or whatever other platitude I might use when asked how I’m doing, but I’m not coping anywhere near as well as I’d like. So, getting healthy is going to continue to be a big old job!
Finally send some poetry to somewhere other than my blog. I’ve had this ambition for a while now, but although I write poems on a fairly regular basis, I always seem to end up just adding them to my blog. I’ve resolved to enter some poetry competitions before now, as well as looking into sending stuff into literary magazines. I’ve just never found the time or I suppose, the courage to do it. However, I have a few things that I’m working on at the moment and a few finished poems that I’ve done nothing with, so 2023 has to be the year that I break my duck in this area.

And that’s that. Part of me wishes I had a fifth resolution, just because it looks like a better number. But then, if I’m trying to lessen the burden a little bit, adding a fifth would just be counter-productive and I’d be even less inclined to actually do anything about it. Anyway, that top three is going to keep me pretty busy, I reckon!

I’ll keep you posted about how things are going. In the meantime, perhaps you could let me know about your own resolutions in the comments? Maybe someone might yet inspire that fifth one for me!