Author: helenrogerscoaching

These are indeed strange times, and I am the first to admit that it is difficult to set goals when everything seems dark and we are all focusing on just getting through the current situation.

However, many of us are making life-changing decisions – moving house, changing jobs, retiring and taking on new challenges. Amongst all the chaos and uncertainty there is a feeling of ‘Why not?’, ‘What are we waiting for?’ and ‘Let’s do it!’. Of course our goals don’t have to be big ones. They can be something that just helps us focus on improving balance in our lives. Perhaps we want to get more fresh air or exercise or read those books on our TBR list. There may be goals that we thought about setting a while ago but which have been sitting forgotten and covered in mental dust?

I am no different in this respect. Lockdown has meant that long hours at work, missed meals, comfort-eating and lack of exercise have taken their toll. And It has taken me some time to find a way to get out of this unhealthy cycle.

Just as Spring approached and I was getting more unhappy and frustrated with my situation I realised that I really did need to do something about it. Unless I made a plan and stuck to it, nothing was going to change. A conversation with a friend and a gift from my husband found me in receipt of a Spring 100-mile Challenge. This meant that from 21 March to 21 June I planned to run and/or hike a hundred miles.

To be honest, that did not seem to be a major challenge and I did get off to a flying start. Soon, though, cold weather and long working days began to sap my motivation and it was sometimes easier to convince myself that I didn’t need to go for my exercise: there was always tomorrow. I suddenly realised that a week had gone by and I hadn’t logged any exercise – and that was because I hadn’t done any! It was time to re-evaluate what I was doing. I had to remind myself of my goal and why I set it in the first place. And I reminded myself that the goal of one hundred miles was still achievable. I just needed to view this as a wobble and get back on track.

And so, as I near the end of the first month, I am pleased to say that I am on track with one third of my miles done. I am not complacent, though. I recognise that there may be more wobbles. But they can be overcome.  I just need to keep my goal in sight. It’s also good to remember that there is a rather nice medal waiting for me at the end. What’s not to like about that?

As a coach, I really value being able to find the time to think. I love the space to reflect and get my thoughts in order. But I’ve been thinking a lot about negativity lately. I don’t mean that I was having negative thoughts – rather that I was thinking about what it means to me and what its impact can be.

That was initially sparked by hearing someone say that being negative is exhausting, it takes so much effort, so why would we want to do it?  Now, I have often heard that it was the effort of keeping positive that was exhausting. The question is, which is right?

Sometimes it is hard to be positive, especially if we are trying to juggle different priorities, or if we are not happy in work. It can be easy to feel that there is just too much to be negative about and we may find it hard to identify anything positive. But think for a moment about the impact of those negative thoughts on yourself and others.

We’ve all been there. Someone comes up with a good idea or suggests a change, and everyone gets excited. Then there it is that little voice that says, that won’t work, we tried that before. And before we know it,  the mood has shifted and the idea has been dismissed. You might think that the owner of the little voice is now happy but often they are not and they go on to complain that nothing ever gets done, nothing changes. Those with the good ideas are also left frustrated and reluctant to raise the good idea again. And this spiral of negativity impacts on everyone.

So what can we do about it? Well, we can ignore them or just accept them for who they are and leave them to it. Or perhaps laugh off their negative comments and get away from them as quickly as possible. I am pretty confident that I have used these approaches in the past, but I have never felt that they have been very satisfactory.

Being negative is exhausting, not just for that person but for everyone else around them. But what am I going to do about it? That is the million-dollar question and perhaps the answer is easier than I thought.

I am going to lead by example and look for the positive whenever I can. I’m going to encourage others to do the same.

And who knows? One day, there might be no one saying, ‘That won’t work.’

In my last blog I talked about my journey through back surgery, learning to live with a reluctant leg, running the Swansea Half Marathon and signing up for the Dublin one.

Well, training for the Dublin Half was not easy. My running partner and I did not manage to run together as often as we would have liked, and it was so much harder to stay motivated when it was just me and the leg. Let’s face it, the leg will pick any excuse to not run – it’s too hot, too cold, too sunny, too wet, too early, too late. And I recognise that I am not always the best at hushing that little negative voice.

As race day approached, all looked well. Accommodation was booked, flights were on time and I was as fit as I was ever going to be. Then a setback occurred.  My running partner had to pull out because of injury. I realised that this was the first Half that I would be doing on my own and suddenly it became even more daunting. That in itself was strange, as we don’t always run the whole route together anyway. But there is something about that sense of being in it together that I knew I would miss.

Again, doubts set in. It would have been so easy to say, ‘I can’t do it on my own’. I could have said that I hadn’t trained enough, or just that I was pulling out. But I had set myself this goal and my inner coach was saying, ‘Go on, you can do it’. And my running partner and husband were coming to Dublin to support me. I couldn’t let them down.

And so, despite the leg niggling and grumbling and my own fears that I might not get round the course, we were still on track for the start line at least.

And what a day it was! A little chilly, but it soon warmed up and was decidedly hot by the time I finished – and yes, I did finish. It definitely challenged my resolve at times. I had forgotten that there are actually hills in Phoenix Park and long stretches where there were no supporters cheering us on. And I wasn’t up there with the sub-two hours gang but there are advantages to being in the slow lane. I met some great people, shared running stories, jelly babies and encouragement.

And as for that finish line. There was truly no more welcome a sight as that line and my own personal fan club. The medal helped. As a fellow runner said, ‘It’s all about the medal’. But of course it’s more than that. For me it was about setting that goal and the huge sense of achievement when I crossed the line. I may not be the fastest runner in the world and I’m not that bothered about a personal best. And there were times on that course when I had to coach myself to keep going but in the end I did it. I was a finisher. And no one can take that away from me.

And so on to a new goal. I seem to have talked myself into doing the Yeovil Half next March. So much for saying no to winter training! And I quite fancy doing a bit of trail running. Will the madness ever cease? I do hope not. But perhaps I’ll wait a while before I break the news to the leg.

It started with some slight pins and needles in my right leg just as I was reaching the summit of a short sharp hill. As a health professional I went through the options, pulled muscle, cramp? No I thought, it’s probably just a too tight knicker leg – yes I know that’s daft but it seemed logical at the time.. It wore off and I forgot about it and finished my run without incident.

A few days later the pins and needles returned, this time in both legs – no tight knickers to blame this time but again I shook it off and got on with life.

Over the next few weeks the incidents became more frequent and at times walking became a chore – rest periods were built into my walk.

There comes a point where you suddenly realise that you just can’t ignore the obvious – there was something wrong with my legs and I better do something about it. My nurse and midwife training kicked in and did nothing to alleviate my fears at this time. They say that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing and I agree – my time was spent thinking up the worst possible things that could be wrong with me – cancer, MS, you name it, I had it. Luckily I also had a sensible and helpful GP who sorted out an MRI scan and consultant referral. There followed a bit of spinal surgery and job done I was, as my niece would say, sorted! That is, apart from the leg.

Now my lovely consultant told me that he could fix me but that he might not be able to get rid of the pain in my back. That’s fine I thought – I haven’t got any now so no worries on that front.

And that is how I discovered that my right leg had other ideas. The top half of my thigh decided to go numb and to stay numb. My foot decided that no, it didn’t particularly want to keep up with the rest of me and if it wanted to point in a slightly different direction, well why not? Gradually me and the leg settled into our new life together. We didn’t make great demands of each other and we got along fine.

Fast forward three years and I was back running. Not very regularly but there were occasional bursts of energy and enthusiasm which resulted in ‘a run’. Now, I’ve never been a particularly fast runner – more prone to the tortoise approach than that of the hare. But I had managed to start, and finish, a few half marathons and I never gave up the idea of doing another one at some point.

And so to my first moment of madness. Me and the leg signed up for the Bath Half Marathon last year. This did come as a bit of a surprise to the leg as it had thought that we were over that kind of nonsense some time ago and didn’t really see the sense in starting it all up again. But I did manage to persuade the leg that it was worth a go. Anyone who has ever signed up for a March race will know that means winter training. Dark mornings, dark evenings, thermal gear along with cold wet weather became the norm and it was often a struggle just to get out of the door. The leg was seriously unimpressed. But we persevered and by the time March came we were definitely race ready. And then disaster struck. It began to snow and it kept on snowing. This resulted in huge mixed emotions. Part of me wanted the race to be cancelled. Our village was cut off and no one was going anywhere, I couldn’t get out, the race route was covered in snow, how on earth was I going to start, never mind finish the race? Then I thought of all that training, how good I felt when I ran, how much willpower had gone into getting this far and I so wanted the race to go ahead.

In the event, the decision was made for me and the organisers cancelled the race. Again I had mixed emotions, relief, disappointment and frustration. I realised that I really wanted to run that race and I know that, whilst I was relieved that it was cancelled, if it had gone ahead I would have got to the start line and I would have finished that race because that was what I had committed to do. That had been my goal and I wanted to achieve it.

It would have been easy at that stage to say ‘ah well we gave it our best shot’ and just hang up the running shoes. That would certainly have made the leg happy but I realised that was not what I wanted. So within days there I was signing up for the Swansea Half. The leg and I trained hard, got to the start line and despite the soaring heat, we even managed to get to the finish in a very respectable time. We were so pleased with ourselves that we decided that the Dublin half looked like fun. Roll on September!