Nuts about Lock down

I'm nuts about most things, most of the time. I sit here typing as my embroidery machine stitches up a design I created last week, next to my ever growing lovely pile of 'Nuts about squares' crocheted squares. Once the embroidery finishes, I will begin another square.

Its lock down time you see. I'm working from home but its the last weekend of the Easter holidays so I have thoroughly loved sitting in the garden crocheting these Nuts about squares designs.

I'm an Engineering lecturer by day and when I ponder on how that happened, but more so how that could possibly relate to my crafts, it all falls at the feet of repeat patterns, shapes, geometry and symmetry. Throw on top of that my extreme love of colour, and here I am!

It's all in a Nutshell designs can be found here. Enjoy!

Hope and wonderment in 2010

Somewhere out there is a bright shining star. 

It shines as bright as I do, strong, powerful and capable. 

There is a winding path to this star, it is lit up all the way but I can only see up to the first bend. 

It is lit in oranges and reds, winds off in front of me then bends away towards the right. 

I would love to meet this star that shines as bright as I do, and wonder if I have already. 

Is this just hope or do I really see it? 

I suppose they are one and the same.

How the heck did that happen!?

Even though Burnley got promoted this week, I'm actually not here to write about that! Something else has happened that I almost can't believe too.
Nine weeks ago I was texted by my friend asking me If I wanted to participate in a 'Couch 2 5k' event that she was volunteering in. It's two years since I hurt my knee in a crazy kick boxing energize class and it had been getting progressively worse. Some nights I was struggling to get myself up the stairs, swinging on the bannister for aid, at 45! I wasn't happy. Inside I was down about it, thinking that was it for my knee already and it was always going to be like this from here on in.
I had watched the 'This girl can' adverts and wondered how women that weren't stick thin were managing to run up hills. I wished I could. However, I could hardly bend my knee with the pain so there was no way I could do anything like that. I started to reply to my friends text. "I can't, I've got a really bad knee at the moment". Even though it was the truth, when I read it back it sounded like one of those excuse texts you send to a friend when you don't want to do something then avoid them for as long as you possibly can. I didn't see my friend very often (once every few years really) but we had recently met up for brunch and had a lovely time catching up and I didn't want to lose that. So I started deleting the text. Yes I was in pain, yes I couldn't bend my knee properly but yes I WANTED TO RUN! "I've got a really bad knee at the moment but I will strap it up and give it a go"...... Send!
That's was it. I was committed and Tuesday night was looming up in front of me. Week 1. I ran for 60 seconds and walked for 90 seconds alternating until 20 minutes had passed. It was hard. Someone blew a whistle at the front to stop and start us. I was at the back. I did that twice more over the duration of the week. For such a short spurt of running I was certainly being lavished with endorphins though! I was still buzzing on the days in between! I was moving.
Week 2. Run for 90 seconds walk for 2 minutes! 20 minutes later drive home. Tuesdays was on a flat running track. Thursdays was around 'Killer Queen's Park' as it became known, and Saturdays was after the real runners 'Parkrun' at 10am in Towneley Park.
Each week the times changed and the safe zone of 1-2 minutes running, soon changed to 3, 5 and 8! Now at this stage I must tell you about the 'trick' that was starting to happen. My concept of time was slowly being changed. I didn't stop it happening but I was well aware of what was going on. 3 minutes was only 3 lots of one minutes and I had done loads of those. I had this.....5 minutes was a couple of 1.5 minutes and a couple of 1 minutes. Easy, as I had done loads of those too. 8 minutes was two 3 minutes and a couple of ones. And so on and so forth..... my concept of time was different.
The clocks went forward the nights got lighter and our Thursday evening venue changed to Thompson Park. I'm sure the boating lake used to be a lot bigger and it was a shame to see the giant ice cream shop closed but the boat house was looking well in the 16 years since I had been in there. Run around the boating lake. Ok, nice.
Then a biggie arrived! 20 minutes! No stopping! It was a Saturday morning so we would have the slight inclines of Towneley park but we had gone from two lots of 8 to a straight 20. Oh my God can I even do this?? That morning was like race day! I was up, I was nervous but I was going to try my best. So far I had not stopped during any of the running times and I didn't want to start now. I only stop when someone tells me too so I was really hoping that today would be just like all the rest. I really didn't want to stop. So I paced myself and I did it! I was absolutely over the moon. Week 6 went back to stopping and starting with 3's, 5's, 8's and 10's then week 7 went to 25 minutes. What I had learnt already about myself was that although stopping and starting built up fitness I was starting to find it easier to just keep going once I was going! I referred to myself as a steam train. Heavy and slow but once up and rolling I could go for ever. 25 minutes, 28 minutes then 30 minutes! Weeks 7, 8 and 9 done! I was now running for 30 minutes 3 times a week!! Crazy!
However, I hadn't yet got to 5k. The last Saturday run of week 9 I gave more than any other and managed 2.3 miles with an average 12:56 minute/mile. That, for me, was a real achievement as my average minute mile previously was never less than 13:02. So I had finished the course. I was chuffed. I had run on my week in Brighton by myself knowing that if I missed I would find it extremely hard on my return. I had boxed every Wednesday in between my Tuesday and Thursday runs and I had shown full commitment and never stopped once.
Still I hadn't yet run 5k. I needed another mile, which given my times meant I needed another 13 minutes running on top of the 30 minutes. No stopping! Ok so if that's what I had to do then that's what I had to do! Simple. The organiser of the Couch 2 5k decided we should do a celebratory 5k run on the first Tuesday after we finished the programme.
We met at Towneley and were going to run the 'real' runners 5k Parkrun route. I went as slow as I possibly could. About 4.5 mph. I had no idea how much I would need to get to the finish in this run. I needed to pace myself like never before. I did it and came in at 44.5 minutes. Slow? Yes, but 9 weeks ago I was chuffed that I had run for one minute 6 times. So it was ok. I was happy that I had done it of course but knew I had a long way to go at this distance now to get that time down and my pace up.
We were going to join the real runners parkrun in 4 days time. This was optional and I was thinking I should do a few more 5k runs without the crowd first. But then after a few hours I changed. I thought that the best way to face this was to just do it. Join in. There were over 300 people a week attending this and I was nervous. Nervous about all the people, nervous about coming last. Nervous in case I couldn't do it and Tuesdays run was just a fluke..... Nervous. So I went! I was so nervous I forgot my GPS watch and had to run with my phone which isn't ideal for a first 'real 'run however that's what I had to do. So I ran. I ran past people and people ran past me. The sun burnt through the clouds that had been shading us and I ran into it and away from it. The volunteers congratulated us at every turn and I just kept running. It was hot, I was hot, hundreds were already chilling at the finish line but I wasn't last. Far from it. 26 people away from being last and about 11 minutes to be precise. Anyway, just before the last corner before the home straight Katie said to me "Joanne, what was your time on Tuesday?" "44.5" I said, "why?" "You're going to come in under 40 minutes" she said. "we are at 37 now" "ok" I said "we will see, I will just keep running". Then we turned the corner. "You've 2 minutes to get to the finish line" she said. And I bolted! My stride widened, my pace got faster and I ran. I felt lighter, streamlined, aerodynamic even and I ran like I haven't run since junior school. I felt absolutely amazing. This was running!!!
I finished 322nd out of 348. And my time? 38:57!!!! That's 6 minutes faster than Tuesday and I can't wait for the next one, next Saturday.
Its all about me. My pace, my breathing, my posture, my time, my calories burnt. Faster, stronger, faster stronger.
This girl can........... and is! And by the way. My knee......never felt better and the strap? Gone by week 5 I think!

 

 

Remember to go to the edge xx

I remembered tonight the gut wrenching feeling driving out of town and back 'home' over the hill. I never wanted to leave again but week after week, month after month I had to. And so it was. After a match or a visit eventually I would have to set off, and leave, again.

I would savor the last few minutes drive as I headed towards the tops. Once the windmills were in my rear view mirror I knew that was it and I was gone again. Then the last left hand bend and Burnley was gone. I would have driven with my head on backwards just so I could see her for a few seconds longer. And so, my focus once more, turned to getting back, when could I next come back?

I would close up as the journey progressed. Once at Halifax I was no longer me, not relaxed, open and comfortable, just not allowed to be. I didn't know why things would change like this but I knew the only place where everyone was allowed to just be, was Burnley. Was it because it's home or was there more?

I sat having coffee in the town center last week, with my mum, people watching. We both noticed that whether the passer by looked rich or poor, they all looked happy! You may not believe it but they did. Two people strolled by arm in arm, a young couple dressed basically in rags but bloody hell they looked so happy. They looked like they had nothing yet everything. Wonderful. It wasn't just them. We noticed that nobody looked particularly stressed, rushed, beaten down or hard faced. From people we turned to the buildings. Ornate, classic, or not, most of all they were low. More or less so low that the trees were higher, surely, as a tree should be?

There is an overall calmness about this place. The small town versus the city. The difference between harsh and soft, happy and sad, beaten or not. I went on and on and on about the edge, once I had worked out why I would close off and go 'hard' on my journey back from here. We have an edge. And, if you feel like you need to get out then just go, get out, it's walkable in any direction. It's all around us, it's open, it's free and it's absolutely beautiful. If there is no edge you are beaten. The weight is never lifted, you have no space to shed your problem no matter what it is. It stays with you, it hangs there, it gets built upon by another and another until you are weighed down by it all and your whole demeanor drags. You look beaten because you are beaten. You close off to stay strong enough to carry the weight that is attached. I did. There is nowhere to go to shed it. Alcohol removes the weight and lifts it leaving you 'free' to fly for one night. Or so you believe, but thats another story.

So you see how lucky we are? And on the days where maybe you just cant fit in that 'getting out trip' then just look up. Look up at the hills, take a second or two as you walk back from the shop or walk to your car and they will work their magic for you :o) xx

Everything changes, like the seasons.........

That, I suppose is football. I haven't 'blogged' since October 2009 and we're now nearing the end of June 2010. It was good to read the old blog and remember the passion on the Turf. It doesn't go away out of season, but just lies dormant for a while. It came bursting back out yesterday as England went out against Slovenia in a must win last match of the group game. At two thirty I was pacing the floor in the office. We were due to watch on the big screen in the conference room, but alas, at 14:55 the whole world logged on to the BBC live stream and that was that really. However, we ended up listening on 5Live radio which was just as good. We won, we're through, we have Germany on Sunday!.....................

The Clarets went down! It's still not an easy thing to say and took a few months to prepare for. We could see it coming as we neared it of course, but there was always that glimmer. How on earth we managed to keep watching sometimes is beyond belief. Many left. The lad next to me left one day and never came back. I was completely empty, or so i thought, of belief, support, love for the club, week in, week out losing. The rain, the match, the club, the manager, the chants. It had all gone wrong. However, week in and week out, I went. I believed, supported until the end. How can you not? You're either in it or you're not and there was no way i was leaving it!. Even when we're getting hammered, and we did a few times, I just can't bring myself to leave before the final whistle. No matter what!

It was, emotionally, a very tough season. I sat on the kirb outside the club after the Blackburn match, empty, in shock, blank, speechless. In fact I was unable to speak for 3 hours or so afterwards, so i didn't.

Owen Coyle leaving was so unfair for the lads, the club, the town and everyone associated with Burnley. There was absolutely no way of coming round from that. It was like having the oxygen turned off on the life support machine. One is useless without the other. We didn't stand a chance. It shook the club to the ground and we went down.

Now today it's all forgotten, to a certain extent. Forgotten, but not forgiven, but we move on. That, is football. It changes every season, like the seasons. That's what it's all about. Push forward, look ahead, believe. A good structure for life, I think.

Bring on the next season.

Surely it's just a game?! x

It was suggested the other night that I created a blog. "I've got one" I said. " I just don't know what to put in it!". It was something to do with the tappety tappety of my nails as I typed away on facebook chat with my good friend Max that made him suggest this.

But after yesterdays trip to Turf Moor I now feel like 'blogging'. I need to look at the 'passion' a little more!

The passion I see on the Turf makes me smile with pride. I have never felt so 'included', 'the same as' in all my life. There are thousands of us and we are all the same. Born and bred, as we say. We are a family and I am so proud to be part of it. We have nothing in Burnley and have had nothing for many many years, but, we have all had nothing together. This is what pulls us together. We believe with a passion, like no other, that we can achieve. We all chant together with a passion, we believe in all the words that we sing. We drum up a loud mesmerizing rhythm, no breaking off......it is a constant, it never evaporates in to silence.

I smile, warmly, not to myself, but I express it. I look around, proud, smiling, clapping, keeping the rhythm! Where else on earth would you have this?

And then we win!

Football is a place to belong. Has it always been like this?

Surely 'it's just a game?'.

I expect as society became more segregated, the closer, more tribal like the game became. I don't know, maybe it always felt like that, maybe i was too young to notice before. Too young to understand. Maybe it's just what I need, so thats why I notice it. Whatever the reason, I absolutely love it.

This could bring me to tears, but in 2 weeks time we play at Ewood Park. Christmas, Birthdays, Births, Marriages any celebration you can think of will fade in comparison to us winning that game! It means so much to me that again I'm questioning why? 'Surely it is just a game?'. I think it's Burnley. I think it's little old Burnley. The town is built on football.

As a girl, growing up in Burnley, I had my ballet and tap classes, my violin lessons and my season ticket to Turf Moor. Thats just the way things are in Burnley. I have my dad and grandad to thank for that. My grandad stood on the door of the 'Center Spot' for more years than I can remember. The Center Spot was the club within the ground. We met father Christmas there. My grandma and grandad went on trips from there. Football is in our family. Ray Pointer lodged at my Aunty Edie's across from the Turf, 5 doors or so down from my Grandma and Grandads. My dad was born there. 100 meters from Turf Moor.

We do football in Burnley, through the generations, and I am SO glad that I am back.

XXX