Will Run for Cake

We all love a running bore right? I mean especially on the week every dudebro you know is wanging on about the London Marathon Ballot (honestly, they’re luckily that the Coleen Rooney story broke the same day for distraction). But as it’s been a while (and nobody cares) it’s time for more chatting about running. But here's a story of how this moose will indeed run for cake. 

I did the Cardiff Half Marathon this weekend. Not bad for a former fat kid, who falls over thin air and hates team sports. Also not bad for one who 5 years ago was pretty damn ill, and who still quite often runs a danger of actually poo-ing herself/losing part of my intestines (hello it has been 0 days since I talked about poo). And yes, for most of the run I thought my intestines were going to actually rise up and strangle my own body (that's what it felt like) and yes there were moments of 'oh shiiiit' panic. Literally. But I made it round without stopping, and ran the whole way. And only once between the bottom of Roath Park and the old people's home did I seriously consider stopping. And I enjoyed it (aside from the searing stomach pain). And what's more training for it did me the world of good mentally as well as physically. 

I loved running the race (Except for Roath Park lake. Me and that lake are not friends.)it was a fantastic experience and for someone who hates any kind of participation activity and any activity that involves crowds, I surprised myself at how much I enjoyed it. The idea also that for once I wasn’t ‘the worst’ at a sport was a revelation and the idea that even if I was, even if I had come last out of all 27, 000 people, it wouldn’t have mattered, was something of a revelation for someone who associates sport participation with jeering not cheering. And there's no denying I'm fitter- I was in a fitness rut of shuffling out for the odd run, and doing the same old same old in the gym. And there's an immense amount of satisfaction from going from 'I hate running even 5k' to '5K is a short stroll around the block and I enjoy a 10k run' (I don't ENJOY anything over 10k still) 

I was also very proud to be part of team big moose. For a local charity who do amazing things, and are amazingly supportive people, that felt important. As much as every charity is worthy it feels more special to do something you can see the impact of.

And in the wider sense, doing the half marathon has had a lot of positive impact on me.

’ve talked a lot about mental health and running previously and having the half to train for has been so important in the last couple of months. When I signed up I said it was in part to have something (anything) that wasn’t ‘work’. Aside from choir (which again has amazing mental health benefits) most of my socialising and hobbies still revolve around theatre and as much as I enjoy that I needed something that was ‘not work’. I also needed something to stop me working. Because having a ‘day job’ and about 1000 ‘side hustles’ I can have weeks where all of my time is spent working in one capacity or another. But with 13 miles to run, I had to make myself go out and run. And by default, take time off.

It’s also been a pretty intense last month- my play (which I’ll get to writing about in its own blog) was on, and that took a lot out of me, and had a massive strain on my mental health. A good few weeks later I’m still drained from it. But having the run to concentrate on directly after was the best thing for me-it was another ‘thing’ to work towards. And as much as I’m not a runner who uses the time as ‘deep thinking time’ (I don’t think I’m that deep) just a break to not think, away from phones, screens and other people is also important in the wanky but important ‘self-care’ umbrella. In creative pursuits your identity becomes so entwined with what you do, it’s easy to forget being a person. And in a tiny way running, and running for a goal is a way of reclaiming some of that.

But it’s also worth saying that running isn’t a) a magic mental health bullet and b) not without its challenges. As someone whose mental health is often tied to body image/insecurities/weight the running ‘community’ or running in general is a fine line between help and hinderance. I’m not competitive in the larger sense- partly why me and sport don’t get on, balls fly at my head and I shrug and look at them when they land next to me.

But previous issues with weight have made me hyper conscious. I walk a fine line between healthy exercise and being obsessive/compulsive about how much I exercise/how much I ‘have’ to exercise. And I do compare myself to others in that respect. I also had to try really hard to shut out additional ‘noise’ about weight loss around running. And try and tell myself it didn’t matter that I didn’t lose any weight while training, that’s not why I did it (despite the voices in my head/the wider world feeling like they judge me for it). I chose not to follow any diet plans, partly through laziness admittedly, but also because subconsciously I knew that would be a slippery slope of too much focus on weight loss and control over what I eat, how much I run etc. Equally I monitored distance and time while on runs, partly out of necessity knowing what distances I covered. But trying not to make comparisons about times. I could never use one of those community fitness apps because the comparisons between mine and other times/durations of exercise would be too much. There’s a lot of unhealthy mentality about exercise out there, a lot of unhealthy competition about it and weight loss- especially among women- and it was something in training for this race became increasingly conscious of shielding myself from.

Equally, taking part in a participatory sport for the first time in probably 15 years, brought with it a whole set of insecurities born of years of horrific PE in school and generally being the fat uncoordinated kid who couldn’t do sport. Some of this was brought home the first time I tried on my race T shirt. It was too tight and I looked like a fat marshmallow. Flashbacks to PE kit that never fit properly and being mocked because the netball vests didn’t fit. In general, the idea of wearing something ‘unflattering’ that people would call me ‘fat’ in wasn’t the greatest. Luckily the lovely big moose team gave me a different one and I tried to remind myself shirt size didn’t matter (again school PE flashbacks and general anxiety about clothing size is hard to block out). But still my training run wearing the shirt was horrible. Equally similar thoughts of being called a Moose in it (despite affectionally referring to myself as that) did nothing to quell the memories of being called ‘Emily the elephant’ at school (not so original the kids in my school).

And on that note, it's a real shocker to me that I've shared any pictures of me in my running gear. 

And the memories of being just shit at sports prevail. Not only from being a fat kid, but being a fat dyspraxix introvert who had zero interest in competitive sport tied with zero coordination. Being mocked for having no athletic ability will haunt you. And while I know, to quote a sign on the route ‘Finish lines not finish times’ matter. And while I also know that my finish time of 2.33 was entirely respectable for a first half marathon in which my last three weeks of training went to hell it’s not easy to quiet those thoughts. The idea of people saying ‘yeah you did it but look how slow you are’ is what people are thinking is a terrible hangover from the worst of school PE lessons, and being an un-sporty kid.

So, it wasn’t always easy, or straightforward from a mental health point of view. Equally pushing myself through the difficult miles when in my head I’m ‘not sporty’ was hard. But I also never doubted for a minute I would do it- one way or another. People kept asking if I was nervous, and no I never was, I knew I could get around 13 miles. I knew if I fell over I’d probably get back up. And weirdly in a life of great uncertainty generally, I haven’t been so certain of anything in a long time. I don’t know if that’s a testament to the power of self belief or a metaphor for keeping going no matter what. But I did it and I always knew I could.

I’ve since been rewarded with a horrible cold and feeling like hell for a week. Which I think is the physical response to ‘finally’ stopping and so crashing a little bit. But this morning I signed up to do it all again next year.

If you’d still like to sponsor me for this year’s and help big moose continue their good work you can here. I'm £50 off £600 currently...

And post run cake. Because fat kids run for cake.

Five Things I'm Worried About/Ten Random Facts

So the final countdown is on (you may sing it) the play opens in less than 2 weeks. (Gulp). And in the midst of writing a few press pieces about it, some random things that don't fall into any category keep popping up. And so ahead of next weekend's likely more serious, reflective blog on the whole thing finally happening, here is a list of 5 things I'm worried about and 10 random facts....

Five things I’m worried about:

1.     Accounting for my own lack of diversity. As a woke-ass-theatre-tweeter, and as Chair of the Board for an inclusive theatre company. And as a female-queer-working-class-disabled-theatre-maker I’m PAINFULLY aware of the need for diversity. But I’m also painfully aware this is a very heterosexual, white, able bodied play. I wrote a longer piece on this, but it’s a lot of my soul searching that is boring and boils down to; we can only tell one story at a time. This might be a straight play, but I’ve written Queer plays. I also can’t single headedly fix theatre’s diversity and accessibility problem (but I’m giving it a good go) again, one thing at a time. I acknowledge those problems; I can’t always write my way out of them.

Live footage of twitter arguments kicking off

2.     People will look for me in the play, and themselves. Am I Grace? Am I John? Louis? (I’m not Louis, I ain’t cool enough) The answer is all of them wrapped up in one. There are bits of me in all of them. And obviously bits of my life. Bits of it are incredibly personal, I’ve made no secret of that, and I’ll talk some more about that next week. Some bits (mainly comedy bits) stolen from real life. I don’t know how to write any other way. But that’s also why I had to write this play- to get those parts of me out of me but also to share them with the world in the hope someone else has thought those things too. Isn’t that why any of us write anything, to say, ‘is it just me or…’ and hope that someone answers? And by the way, boy in High School who said that thing to me? Yeah that’s you.

Judging that boy from High School 

3.     A critic writing theatre is asking for trouble. That people will tell me to stick to writing reviews. Or stick the knife in just to get one back on the critic. And a particularly nasty encounter with a critic and editor/site runner compounded this fear this week. Take a deep breath. Own it, know any critic worth their salt will assess the play on its merits, and anyone who doesn’t isn’t worth thinking about. It’s been a viscous old summer in the critic/theatre maker divide, and please dear lord can we start playing nicely again? I trust audiences to be polite enough to clap politely and leave. I trust my friends enough to tell me the truth. Also I’ll read reviews; I’ll take constructive criticism. I always write with those making the piece in mind as much as audiences. All I ask is others do the same for me.

4.     That it’s actually terrible. This one is almost a parody of a neurotic playwright. But it’s true. Every writer will assume at some point what they’ve written is terrible. But for me this particular neurosis is haunted by hearing ‘it’s a disappointment’. An actual conversation I had with someone I’d been working closely with on it ‘It’s just that this [final draft] came in an it’s such a disappointment’ ‘In what way? What can I do?’ ‘I don’t know it’s such a disappointment, and I was so excited before. Oh well’ I don’t need to embellish or elaborate on that one, that conversation is burned into my brain forevermore. I didn’t cry at the time. I’ve cried many times since. Constructive criticism is great- sometimes hard to hear, but great. I’ve had ‘worse’ said of my work in some ways, had it ripped apart more. But hearing that…it’s burned into my mind forever. I secretly worry everyone associated with it still thinks the same. That it’s forever a disappointment before we even started.

Please come, or James will have no friends 

5.     That nobody will come. I mean this is the kind of ‘naked in school’ anxiety dream right? That I’ll rock up and nobody else will and it’ll be an awkward evening of listening to actors read my own lines at me. It’s hard at the best of times getting theatre audiences. So please do me a favour if any of this sounds interesting or you just take pity on me book tickets here (yes, yes this is a shameless plug)

I'm guessing we're now doing a production of Aladdin and I'm ok with it

10 random things about this play (No real spoilers)

1.     Louis was not, as one might expect from me, named after Louis Theroux but actually named after Louis Ironson in Angels in America. (and is pronounced ‘Lewis’ in my head for that reason). Grace is named after Grace from Will and Grace. (I have another play with a character named after Will). John is named for Jonathan Larson.

2.     I’m not nearly as obsessed with cake as this play would suggest. In an early idea-of-a-draft the cake was connected to Grace having an eating disorder. That went away (it’s not about that) the cake stayed and took on a life of its own. (Now I’m thinking of cake coming to life and it’s terrifying.)

3.     The story Grace tells about her flatmate did indeed happen to me.

4.     The story Grace tells about a Penis also did.

5.     Most of this was re-written in the Skanky Starbucks near my house. Which I’m reliably informed is where drug dealers hang out.

6.     I can tell you the exact location I had the idea for this play; Indigo Bookstore on Rue Saint Catherine in Montreal (near, but not in the self-help section, but I still ‘see’ that in my mind when I think of the play).

7.     John was originally a Barrister. He morphed into an academic somewhere around the time I did (I do in fact know jack-shit about art…but google is a wonderful thing).

8.     Every book in the play is a book I own. And yes, there was reasoning behind them all.

9.     The whole thing was actually inspired by the song ‘Will I?’ from Rent.

10.  It’s original title, and the one it what it will always be called in my head is ‘Midnights and Cups of Coffee’

We're going to a few places...check it out! (please come?)