One Year, Three Years.

Friday at long last! It has felt like a 48,674 day long week this one.

April 22nd was one year since The London Marathon. Crazy to think about how quickly it has flown by and how I can remember every moment and feeling of the day. I can remember every text I sent and received probably word for word, who I spoke to on the phone, photos I sent and photos I received. I can feel where the tears ran down my cheeks. The sheer feeling of being overwhelmed that I had achieved my impossible.

I would have dearly loved to have run it again this year, last weekend, but it was not to be. Which is just as well as I am currently nursing a broken toe. More of that later.

In the year since the marathon I have hardly done any running and unlike in years gone by when this really depressed me, I am ok with this. Of course, I would love to be running 4 times a week like I used to, but I achieved the one thing I thought my arthritis has robbed from me, The Marathon. And I feel ok. Which isn’t to say I don’t want to run it again. I do! I REALLY DO! And will continue to enter the ballot until I am successful again, but for now, I have the closure I needed.

Last week I marked 3 years of having arthritis.

Happy arthritis birthday to me!

The 23rd April 2016 was not the day that I was diagnosed (that wouldn’t come until the August) but this is the day when I first noticed that something was very, very wrong. The aches and pains after my running the previous few weeks hadn’t subsided and this was *the* day I first noticed the toe. We all know how this story ends.

Instead of being sad and wallowing in my own self-pity (which I do pretty much every day as standard anyway), JP took me out for a celebratory Nandos (as it was Nandos we had after the marathon a year before, and because the boy really likes chicken).

In general, life is exactly like David Byrne sang, same as it ever was. But yes, I broke a toe. A new toe. I broke one of my new toes and it was probably more painful than the immediate aftermath of my op itself. I went to walk around the end of my bed just a bit too quickly, didn’t give enough room between myself and the bed leg, and whack. I absolutely clattered my left foot in to the frame and fell to the floor crying in pain. Can honestly say it was a 10/10 pain level. The only toe that seemed to have been knocked was my middle toe and by the next morning the toe was swollen and black. A quick trip to the GP who assured me that yes, whilst she was pretty certain it as broken, that no, I hadn’t snapped the toe. In the 5 months since my op (bloody hell, ‘they’ weren’t joking when they said time goes quicker the older you get were they) my toe has healed to the level of a normal toe. So that was good. A big prescription of tramadol, 4 days of rest and back on my feet. Still sore three weeks later but walking a lot better and it’s now a fetching shade of lavender as opposed to black.

Wrist and hand pain getting worse, clicks becoming louder. Knuckles now crack. As do shoulders and elbows and a big toe. I would now be the worlds worst burglar. You’d hear me coming about 4 years before you saw me.

Open Uni year two is nearly at an end and I’ve come up with this great idea that I should stop doing PPE as it doesn’t challenge me and do History of Art instead. Someone please talk me down from this ledge. I can’t keep changing my mind.

Enjoyed some lovely weather here in Scotland and spent a wonderful weekend in beautiful St Andrews. 24 degrees and I was covered in factor 50 on the tiny bits of my skin I allowed to be exposed and head to toe in clothes. Sun damage causes premature aging kids! I’ll thank myself for roasting alive under layers on the beach when I still look 25 at 90.

What else? Anything else?

Tickets booked to see Doves in June which I am VERY BLOODY EXCITED ABOUT. Molly cat is still a big brown ball of malting fur and I love her so much it’s almost painful. JP and I have no holidays booked for the first time in our entire relationship and this is very weird. As well as our normal trips to Holland later in the year we’re thinking about Lyon. But sadly, operations get in the way of being able to book anything. BOOOOOO. Having said that a summer trip to Liverpool and Cornwall has been booked for my Mums 60th birthday shindig. Work is still the bane of my entire existence. Wedding planning is the most stressful thing in the whole world and I don’t even wanna think about it let alone write about it. I completed my 2019 Goodreads challenge of 15 books already. I’m now aiming for 35, though I suspect if I wanted to I could easily hit 40.

And so yeah. That’s me.

Also coming to the blog very soon are the things I’ve learnt in the years I’ve learnt sine my body gave up on me.

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Just your average 30 something trying to bumble her way through life with inflammatory arthritis.

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