Trusting the Process

Sitting in clinic today, I found myself doing something I've become rather good at over the last few months.

Looking at the whiteboard.

It hangs on the wall just behind my desk, and every morning the first thing I notice isn't the diary or the list of patients for the day.

It's the countdown.

TIME TO ML50: 12 DAYS

Twelve days.

That's it.

For months this race has felt like something that was always "a long way off". Then suddenly, almost overnight, it isn't. In under two weeks' time, I'll be standing on the start line at Dalemain with a race number pinned to my chest, wondering whether ten months' worth of preparation somehow managed to squeeze itself into a handful of frantic weeks.

Strangely though...

I'm calmer than I thought I'd be.

Don't get me wrong, the nerves are definitely there. They tend to appear whenever I stop and think about the fact I'm voluntarily attempting to walk and run 50 miles across the Lake District.

But the panic has gone.

And I think that's because, for the first time since this journey began, there's nothing more to prove.

The work has been done.

Now it's about trusting it.

Looking Back

It's funny how quickly perspective changes.

Not that long ago I genuinely wasn't sure I'd even make it to the start line.

There were hospital visits.

Months waiting for an MRI.

Training plans that barely survived two runs before ending up back in the bin.

A right hip that seemed determined to remind me every single day that it was in charge.

More takeaways than long runs.

More frustration than progress.

If somebody had told me then that I'd be sitting here two weeks before race day worrying more

about which socks to wear than whether I'd actually be able to start, I'd probably have laughed.

Yet somehow...

Here we are.

Not perfect.

But ready enough.

And sometimes, that's all you can ask for.

Learning to Do Less

Here's the strange thing about preparing for an event like this.

Just when you finally feel like you're making progress...

You're supposed to stop... Or at least slow down. But, every instinct tells you to squeeze in one more long run.

One more hill.

One more strength session.

One more chance to get fitter.

Surely more training means better preparation? Right?

Actually... Not really.

This is the stage where the body finally gets chance to catch up.

All those long walks, strength sessions, miles on tired legs and early mornings weren't making

me fitter while I was doing them.

They're making me fitter now.

As the body recovers.

It's something we speak about with patients in clinic all the time.

Recovery isn't the reward after training.

Recovery is part of the training.

Without it, the body never gets chance to adapt.

It's the balance between challenge and recovery that creates progress.

Funny really...

We've named our clinic Rebalance, yet sometimes we're just as guilty as everyone else of forgetting how important that balance actually is.

The Two-Week Paranoia

Apparently, this happens to almost everyone before a big event.

Every tiny ache suddenly feels like the beginning of the end.

A slightly tight calf? Definitely torn.

A stiff ankle? Probably broken.

The hip feels a little different? Well... that's clearly the Lakeland 50 over before it's even begun.

Throw in checking the weather forecast every few hours and you've got yourself a perfectly normal taper.

It's amazing what the brain can convince you of when something important is around the corner.

Thankfully, experience - and a little bit of osteopathic knowledge - helps bring things back into perspective.

Not every ache is an injury.

Not every tight muscle is a disaster.

Sometimes your body is simply reminding you that you've been asking quite a lot of it recently.

The Final Preparations

Training has taken a bit of a back seat now.

Instead, my attention has shifted to all the little details.

The race vest has been packed and unpacked more times than I'd care to admit.

The mandatory kit has been checked...Then checked again.

The headtorch works.

The spare batteries are packed.

Waterproofs.

Compass.

Map.

Blister kit.

Enough snacks to feed a small village.

It's amazing how much equipment you end up carrying just to spend a day walking through the hills.

Nutrition has probably seen one of the biggest improvements over the last few weeks too. We've gone from grabbing whatever was easiest between patients to actually thinking about

fuelling training properly.

Now, are we perfect?

Absolutely not.

The occasional takeaway still sneaks its way into the week.

But overall, we've been making better choices.

Not because we had to.

Because we finally understood why it mattered.

Sleep has become just as important. For months I thought another training session would always beat another hour in bed.

Turns out, I couldn't have been more wrong.

Some of the biggest improvements I've noticed haven't happened while training at all.

They've happened afterwards.

My Goals

People keep asking me the same question.

"So... what's your goal?"

Of course I'd love to finish.

Who wouldn't?

But somewhere along the way I realised finishing isn't the only measure of success.

A few months ago success meant getting through a walk without my hip complaining.

Then it became finishing a run.

Then climbing a hill.

Then completing a full training week.

Every stage brought a different definition of success.

So now?

My goals are actually quite simple.

Enjoy the experience.

Take in the scenery.

Trust the training.

Keep moving forward.

And, hopefully...

Reach Coniston with a smile still somewhere on my face.

If I can do that, I'll be pretty proud of myself.

The Biggest Lesson

Looking back over this whole journey, one thing stands out more than anything else.

Consistency beats perfection.

Every single time.

Not the perfect programme.

Not the perfect trainers.

Not the perfect diet.

Just showing up.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Some sessions were brilliant.

Others felt awful (actually, most felt awful).

Some days I questioned whether any of it was working.

But every walk, every run and every strength session quietly added another brick to the

foundations.

Progress rarely announces itself.

It simply appears one day and you realise you're capable of something that once felt impossible.

It's exactly the same whether you're training for an ultra-marathon, recovering from an injury or

simply trying to become a healthier version of yourself.

Your goal doesn't have to be fifty miles.

It just has to be yours.

Your Finding Balance Challenge

This week's challenge is a little different.

Instead of focusing on exercise...

Focus on recovery.

For the next seven days, try to:

• Prioritise your sleep.

• Drink enough water.

• Spend ten minutes stretching or moving each day.

• Eat one nourishing meal every day.

• Give yourself permission to take a proper rest day.

Because recovery isn't something you earn.

It's part of the process.

Until Next Time...

Next week there won't be another instalment of the blog. More of the same - rest, stretch and panic!

By the time you're reading this, I may even be somewhere between Dalemain and Coniston,

trying to remember why I ever thought running - or walking - 50 miles sounded like a good idea.

The next time we catch up, the planning will be over.

The training will be finished.

The countdown clock will have finally hit zero.

Instead, I'll be sharing everything race day had to throw at me - the nerves on the start line, the

atmosphere, the inevitable low points, the moments that made it all worthwhile and, hopefully,

crossing that finish line.

In fact, I think there'll be enough stories to split race day into two parts.

Something tells me fifty miles is going to produce more than enough material.

Until then...

Wish me luck.