And The Beat Goes On – Slowly

And The Beat Goes On – Slowly

I’ve been putting off writing this one. Truth be told I thought it was going to be more of a ‘hey this is common for those who do a lot of running but it’s nothing’. Turns out, for me, that’s not quite true.

I’ve had dizzy spells on and off for as long as I can remember but they got worse this year and when I collapsed outside my house with my youngest alone still in the house it was time to do something about it. Having your elderly neighbour have to help you through your own front door isn’t the best either. She’s a great neighbour though.

At the doctors and they wanted the nurse to do one of those ECG reading things – the ones that take longer to set up than actually perform. ‘How are you feeling?’ She asked me. ‘Much better than before thanks, little dizzy but it’s nothing.’ She then says she’s just going to run it past the doctor. ‘Just as a precaution, wont be long’ she said as she scurried away.

2 hours later I’m still at the doctors and they want to do more tests. I instantly think it’s something to do with my diet and I’m convinced they are about to tell me I’ve given myself diabetes! When will you listen about the red bull?!

I had to wear a heart monitor for a week. Pretty standard and very common but it was an ugly thing. Huge! They told me I could still run with it. They lied. It ripped off layers and layers of skin and left a horrendous mark. One or two people asked what it was which didn’t bother me and that’s how I found out just how common it was to have your heart monitored like this. Everyone knew someone who had had to wear it before, mainly those in the running community I knew. Your resting heart rate drops as you get fitter, that’s just a fact, nothing to worry about.

I then had a scan of my heart. Again still common place, a lot of people have this done just to check. I even manage to look at the screen and the nurse starts telling me all the different sections. (I now know there are 4 heart chambers and there’s a flappy thing that goes up and down.). She gives me a couple of funny looks and asks how tired I am. I’m pretty wide awake love. I’m lying here with no top on whilst you roll a very cold object covered in slime on my chest. Yup, I’m definitely wide awake!

I think nothing of it at all after that. I thank my lucky stars it wasn’t diabetes and again swear off the red bull. I even purchase a replacement and it goes quite well.

Then I get a call.

‘This is consultant x from Ninewells in Perth’.

‘Oh really? Well that’s interesting seeing as Ninewells isn’t in Perth. What ever you’re selling I’m not interested thank you.’

I go to hang up, fed up of how my number seems to have made it in the cold callers list of marketing hell.

‘Mrs Webley! This is the consultant you saw at the hospital about your heart! I need to speak to you!’

He has my full attention.

They found something. Not 100% sure what it is but they think the best course of action is to implant a permanent heart monitor until it picks it up and they have the detail they need. Then they can take it from there. I don’t say much. Still waiting on him telling me it’s probably diabetes and I should be embarrassed and ashamed to have given myself that. He wants to put me on the list right now for it rather than waiting but if I feel I need to discuss it he can do that now or we can make an appointment – ‘but’ he says, ‘that will delay it and I don’t think we should do that’.

He then mentions cutting in to my chest muscle and I stop him right there. That is not the kind of detail I need thank you very much! He’s the specialist so I go with if he says I need it then I need it.

‘Can I still run?’ Is my only question.

He hums and ha’s a little then tells me they have nothing that tells them I should stop but to be watchful. That’s the same with everyone – if you don’t feel well you should stop. I understand this.

The appointment comes through and a couple of days before I realise I don’t have a clue what’s about to happen. I didn’t want to hear it before and that was my choice but now, well, maybe that wasn’t so wise. The night before I couldn’t really sleep. And going on google most certainly did not help that! (Don’t ever do that, trust me!)

In the morning I go for a run to calm my nerves and try to chill out – well aware that freaking out over this isn’t going to help matters. We then take the youngest to look for conkers before heading through. It helped, I didn’t feel too bad after that.

Sitting in the waiting area and I can’t help but notice everyone there is at least twice my age, if not three times. I try to ignore this but my other half seems to take great delight in pointing out this is proof I am really old.

For someone with as many grey hairs as he does he’s got some nerve.

In the room I go. There’s two doctors. One with a very rich Scottish accent called Scott and the other I think was called Kaiser. I start singing ‘I predict a riot’ in my head before realising the irony of it and quickly stop.

Scott tries to distract me as I’m clearly not comfortable with this. I’m trying to shrug it off but it’s about as convincing as telling the world Donald Trump was a good choice for president. I’m awake for the whole thing which has its positives and negatives.

Kaiser (?) then covers me in the iodine solution and starts poking about looking for the right place guided by Scott. I get the distinct impression Kaiser may not be as experienced at this as he is. I’m then asked to confirm all my information – name, date of birth, address. He takes a while to find my year of birth on the computer and comments it seems to think everyone that has this is closer to being born in the 30’s not the 80’s. He then asks me to confirm my address again.

‘No kidding’ he says. ‘Eh, yeah, that’s definitely it’.

‘I used to live there! When I was about 10.’

‘No way!’

‘Ok, small scratch’.

Oh you crafty git!! And that’s not a small scratch you prick, that’s more like barbed wire ripping through my chest!

I’m grumping about the distraction technique when he asks me if there is still the small white wall at the front. So he’s not lying! Talk about a small world!

This is the only time I smiled whilst in that room – for obvious reasons.

There was a lot of pushing and shoving, a joke about breast tissue (you’re not likely to find much of that on me I’m afraid!) and some immense will power to hold back the tears but that was it done, it was in.

I left the hospital with a box of ‘goodies’ and a tan that would of made that guy from bargain hunt look like a milk bottle thanks to the iodine.

So now I am officially an Iron Woman ha ha, just not the kind I would prefer. Plus I’m more a Wonder Woman fan but ah well. It hurts. I won’t lie, it hurts like hell right now. I woke up crying from the pain, poor Joe didn’t know what to do. I usually only cry when he says I can’t sign up to a race. I’ve spent all day resting – which I’m my world means I’ve been bored to death all day. I’ve had to cancel my race at the weekend which, at first I was annoyed about but now, I know I couldn’t do it. There will be no swimming for a couple of weeks. I will run next week but it will be very slow and careful.

I’m still kind of hoping they turn round to me and say they all got it wrong and it is in fact something that can be cured with a vitamin or a change in my diet. At the end of the day this heart has got me through 2 marathons, a Half Ironman and an ultra – and that’s just this year! So it can’t be all that bad.

My trainers are most certainly staying on my feet – just not for the next few days.

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Thank You

All day.  All freaking day something’s been bothering me.  And it’s the culmination of a few things all rolled in to one.

Negativity.

Not mine.  But other people’s. That’s right, YOURS.

(Well maybe not you personally but you get my point)

Now.  Where to begin?

When I first started ‘being active’ I feared negativity.  I was convinced I was the centre of everyone’s attention as I waddled down the road, Lycra clad, trying to put one foot in front of the other at a pace faster than a granny with a Zimmer frame.  Of course I wasn’t – (the centre of everyone’s universe I mean but no, at that time I was also not faster than the Zimmer frame) – but I had that fear.  The same fear everyone does when they start something new.  But I got over it (or over ‘myself’ which is a bit more accurate – the dog chasing its tail will always be more entertaining to watch than someone running past).  It’s gone.  I moved on.

And I’ve never really experienced negativity at running races either.  At the first few I’ve possibly thought people would wonder what I thought I was playing at attempting to run but that was my own head issues.  Yes I’ve had one or two blokes clearly not happy at being beat by a 4ft midget women but I put that down to competition and the majority of us set a target person to beat anyway, it’s not that bad a thing.

But never, absolutely NEVER, have I experienced the volumes of negativity surrounding a race as much as I have of the Edinburgh Half Ironman.

Moaning about it being called ‘Edinburgh’, complaining about the disruption, bumping gums about what others call it, referring to it as just plain ridiculous.

I honesty can’t take much more.  It’s 2am and this shit is keeping me up.

Let me explain.

Firstly, the ‘Edinburgh’ reference.  Now if you’ve read any of my previous posts you’ll know my geography is probably on par with a pre-schooler however, I do recognise that the race route for Ironman Edinburgh 70.3 is not entirely in Edinburgh.  I’m not sure if some people expected a new open water place to magically just appear in the centre and  for almost 2000 people to cycle and then run through the centre of Edinburgh closing even more roads but come on.  Doesn’t take a genius to work out where the route would likely be.  So having used my pre-school map and compass before entering (along with my back pack, thank you Dora), this does not bother me.  It’s Ironman Edinburgh 70.3 – says so on the uber expensive registration form.

Disruption.  Ok.  I get it.  A big nuisance to those not involved or interested in the race.  But you chose where you live.  You know it’s a popular place for events.  Roads are closed for both the safety of those participating in the event and everyone else.  EVERYONE ELSE.  Have you ever been hit by a cyclist? Has one cycled in to your car or your dog on the out-stretched lead?  Has anyone ever run in to you full pelt and knocked you over?  It’s not just us participating that can get hurt.   But yes, I can appreciate having to work around the area you live in being closed for a few hours is a pain in the backside.  Why should you have your life disrupted because some people want to have ‘a pissing contest’? (And yes, that’s an actual quote from a keyboard warrior).  There is notice that goes out so you can forward plan.  You’re complaining now which means you are aware of it and therefore have time to arrange alternative means.  I do appreciate it’s annoying, especially if it’s something you’re not even remotely interested in – But – can you not appreciate what it does for your area? No Edinburgh doesn’t need ‘put on the map’ – pretty sure Trainspotting did that very successfully, not to mention every other blockbusting movie that likes to film in the centre – but the Ironman brand is a worldwide spectacular event.  It is well known for its support, its expertise in these events and how to pull off said events in a phenomenally easy manner.   

Can you not just be the same just for one day?

So many of us have put ourselves through months and months of training to do this frightening task on Sunday.  No you may not be interested one bit in what we are doing or how we have trained or that we have had near death experiences along the way but surely you recognise it’s all for a good thing?  That it’s not just for ourselves.  That some of us are raising money and awareness for several charities (ironically my chosen charity being SAMH – mental health – this negativity does not support good mental health).  That some of us are trying to demonstrate a healthy lifestyle to our children and also to our friends and families? 

But…

It’s not just those outside of the sport either.  I’ve said before how I’ve not found all triathletes to be the most welcoming.  And my experience of Ironman Edinburgh 70.3 has not done anything to improve that.  Not just the raised eyebrows from a few weeks ago at the Loch swimming but the quick and sharp correction months ago when I mentioned on a Facebook site I was doing Edinburgh Ironman that I MUST put in the title that it was a Half Ironman.  Stupid me. I had presumed any die hard Ironman fan would automatically know Edinburgh only has 70.3 and not the Full Ironman.

My bad.

I should not be surprised though that keyboard warriors are out there and like to express their opinion.  Fine.  Everyone’s entitled to their opinion – hence this post – but I personally prefer to be supportive rather than rant and rave over something that has absolutely no effect on my life what so ever.  Yup, the majority of these ‘fellow triathletes’ aren’t even taking part in Ironman Edinburgh 70.3.  Maybe thats why I prefer being part of my running group.  At least people will say hi rather than the equivalent ‘you can’t call yourself a runner, you’ve never ran a race’.

But let’s not get in to that debate on when you can and can not call yourself a runner or a triathlete.  

It’s now after 3am.  I’ve read back through some of my own blog posts to remind myself how far I’ve come.  How hard this training has been – not just on me but my family too.  And how much I want this.  I’m doing this for me. Not for you.  Not your approval or acceptance.  But for ME.  I know for a fact Ironman will put on a good show.  I don’t doubt it in the slightest.  The atmosphere will be out of this world.  There will be many tears, probably a few moments of seeing my breakfast again and many, many souvenirs bought.

So, thanks for shitting on my parade, but I don’t need your negativity.  I will stick with being on the positive fence and at least try to see the good in all things.  If nothing else you’ve distracted me a little from my nerves.  That can only be a good thing (see what I did there, not hard is it).


Thank you.

Shadys Back

I am desperately trying to think of a positive start to this entry but, I can’t.
So the above will have to do.
Truth is, the anxiety seems to be back. I say seems, let’s be honest, it is back. I am managing to use coping techniques quite well but one of the problems it is giving me is trying to keep up with the training for the Stirling Marathon and the Half-Ironman. It’s kind of hard to force myself out the door when all I want to do is curl up in bed and stay there until the next day. Swap a running marathon for a Netflix marathon and the physical Ironman for the Marvel Ironman and that right now is the easier option.

But is that really what I want? Sometimes. 

They say endurance events aren’t achieved on the day but in training. The race itself is your victory lap. Well I tell you, right now, if I make it to that finish line, I will be amazed. 

I watched ‘400 meters’ on Netflix last week. A man diagnosed with MS decides to do a Full Ironman (not a half!) having never done anything like that before. He has several set backs, a father in law that isn’t too dis-similar from my own dad, and a determination to rival Donald Trump. I keep thinking he found the strength to keep going – and again, to do a Full Ironman – what’s stopping me? 

I haven’t ‘lost my mojo’. Genuinely hate that saying. I still love running, miss it if for some insane reason it’s been more than 2 days since we last met. I am very slowly getting more confident on the bike and the swimming isn’t that much of a chore. It’s just my mind. There are less and less ‘happy thoughts’. Thursday took me by surprise. It was bring your child to work day so I had my daughter with me. I thought she would be with me the entire day but I had to drop her off in a room that felt it contained half the population of the human race. She was fine. I was not. It took my greatest strength not to go back in, grab her hand and take her to my desk with me. Literally the only thing stopping me was the embarrassment I would cause her. I spent 20 minutes alone in a room trying to calm down. It worked though. Breathing techniques don’t get the credit they are due. And later that day when a friend of mine came in she presented me with a surprise gift she had made. It was a box frame with photos of me running and ‘Live, Love, RUN’ written on it. The tears turned to happy tears then – and she hadn’t even known it was a bad day!


I had the next Championship race that night and, as the day had been that bad, I asked Joe to pace me. I had asked him a few days earlier, just for something different. I have never really ran with a pacer and he has never paced someone – could have been tragic! On the day though it didn’t really end up being about time but more just about having someone there as a distraction. You never know what ‘could have’ happened and is there any point in thinking about it? Could I have ran just as fast or even faster? I don’t know. What I do know is that it was nice and it worked. I was distracted. It gave me a little more positivity back. And I used the gift my friend had given me as a reminder of me how much better I feel when I am running. So I rocked up to the start line instead of pressing ‘play’ on the next episode of Designated Survivor. (It’s recorded though so it’s ok!).
And so I have decided I need that little something extra to push myself. Something I can focus on when I’m thinking ‘nah, just skip it, back to bed – retreat, retreat, retreat’. I contacted SAMH (Scottish Association for Mental Health) and I am now going to try and raise a little money for them by getting to the start line – the finish line will come later. Some of the coping techniques I have been given truly work for me and there are days I wouldn’t be able to do my day job without them. So why not say thank you? 

If it hadn’t been for people like them, the support I have received and discovering running I would still be locked away in my house, rarely leaving, unlikely to still be holding down a job, and not being an ‘ok’ mum. (I won’t claim to be the best mother in the world, I forgot it was my eldest last ever day at school yesterday!).  

This post may not have started very positive but it’s my nod to my issues to say ‘yeah, you’re still there, you might still knock me down, but I CAN get back up’.

(How bad will it be if I don’t manage this now? Ha ha).

The link for my fundraising – https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Ella-Webley2

I got issues man

What on earth is going on?!? 

First it was a tight muscle in my back, then a pain in my chest by old issues being dragged up, and now it’s ‘women’s issues’ I thought had gone! Don’t worry, I won’t go in to detail.

Until the beginning of this week I could still run, limited because of child care but I could still get out.  Then Tuesday came and BAM – no more running.  My body is on strike!  I’ve literally fallen out with my body, with myself.  How do you fall out with yourself?!?!? 

I haven’t changed my diet, eaten anything new, done anything different so seriously – what’s your problem?  I took my youngest to soft play yesterday to meet up with a friend (part of my healthy mind plan and to tell my anxiety to do one) but at times was almost walking doubled over.  


I was sooooo glad when he napped later!


I’ve got 14 miles to run to hit my 100 for the month.  It’s not going to happen.  I’ve ran a grand total of 6.4miles this week so far.  It’s bloody hard admitting I won’t hit that target this month! But, I will still hit my 1000 miles for the year. Got to remember bigger picture.

This morning I tried some strength and core work.  Clearly I am the thickest person IN the world! Let’s do core work when your core is in bits, awesome idea!  Honestly.  I actually managed my best set of pull ups yet which I am ecstatic with – however – I then spent over half an hour in the bathroom and I’m now on the couch with pain killers, peppermint tea and a hot water bottle.  


My next race is a week yesterday.  This better be gone by then.  It’s a fast paced 5 miles and one Im really looking forward to.  

I leave you with a little D:Ream ‘Things, can only get better’.

Ha ha ha ha ha

Looking back, looking forward

My dad x
In this last week my anxiety reared its ugly head in true T-Rex dinosaur style forcing me to throw my hands up and give in.  Not a fan of ‘cure by tablets’ I managed to convince my doctor to let me try and kick it through exercise and working out what’s triggered it. 

So that’s was this is – a look back.

A lot has happened, and all at once.  Difficult to know where to start.  There’s the niggle in my back and the thing with my pelvis which I’m told could cause me problems later on. I’m worried about our daughter going up to secondary school.  She has problems with reading and directions and I panic she gets lost.  Our smallest dog woke up in the middle of night shaking in pain and after a trip to the emergency vet we were told if the injection didn’t work there wasn’t anything they could do.  How do I explain that to the kids? 

Then, most importantly, there’s my dad.  We were told he needed a double heart pass and as we waited he seemed to be getting worse and worse.  I looked on it logically – a serious operation he had to have or he wouldn’t be here much longer but one that was carried out on a regular basis.  So yes very worrying but marginally small risk.  How I handle it in my head.  

It’s the knock on effect of this that has let the dinosaur loose.  My lovely mother (she’s not just my mum she is my lovely mother), is the only support we have with the children.  My dad has them for an hour or 2 if I’m desperate for a run – obviously not recently or in the near future – and my brother would be able to have them in an emergency but he works long hours and has a social life that beats the kardashians.  Point being he’s there if need be.  But that’s it, that’s all we have.  My mum has our youngest so I can work and she won’t be able to have him with my dad being in hospital and then for a period after.  She’ll be looking after my dad and doesn’t need a toddler round her ankles.  My work is very accommodating – god damn stressful and getting to me right now but can not fault my boss’s approach to things like this.  We came up with a schedule that would work for both.  This makes me feel even worse about being signed off right now.  So if it’s been organised with work why did it come back?  Well, figuring out when I could work and juggling everything over the month reminded me of what we don’t have.  It’s difficult to write without going in to detail but it gets to me.  It was the same when our youngest broke his leg, it was my mum only who was there.  So things haven’t, and aren’t going to change.  

My lovely mum x

We have an event coming up very soon also and it’s a cold, harsh reminder of the situation.  My husband is doing Tough Mudder with his brother – they are racing – and I begged and begged my brother to do it with me (much to my parents delight).  There’s now a high chance my mum won’t be able to look after the kids therefore one of us can’t do it.  It’s an expensive event so that’s a lot of money wasted and bearing in mind emergency vets fees aren’t cheap it’s a slap in the face.  My husband has been talking about beating his brother in this race for a while.  If I don’t go my brother has no one else to do it with.  It’s hitting me hard right now because I use exercise and pushing myself like this to keep my anxiety at bay.  Irony in its finest form. 

I could go on but in a nutshell that’s it.  If I keep thinking about it all my chest is never going to loosen up and the doctor will insist on putting me back on tablets.  My dad had the operation yesterday and this morning we have been told everything looks ok and so far no complications.  They kept him sedated all night and are bringing him round now.  I will get to see him tonight.

I have devised a stretching and yoga plan which I am sticking to.  My husband and I now have a training board up so we can each fit in what we need to do.  I’ve met with my running coach and I’m taking the first steps towards my next marathon with his help.  The dog is ‘OK’.  It’s a case of wait and see.  She’s had to have another lot of pain killers. 

This post will very quickly be followed up with another – and it WILL be positive.  As I’ve said before it wouldn’t be a genuine blog if I wasn’t honest about the downs.  I’m determined to overcome this with exercise and not drugs.  I know it works, it has worked.  Everyone has set backs, but I’m going to use it as something to learn from.