Today I went for my longest run before the Bristol Half Marathon on the 11th May. Next week will be about 75% of the distance. Today I ran 105% of the distance.

I did, however, stop to take photos!

I only started enjoying running when I stopped watching the clock and tracking stats and instead watched the world and explored my environment.

This post isn’t about that though.

It’s an observation I have made about myself.

My first ever Bristol Half was in 2005, which was the year after mum survived her first battle with cancer. Friends and colleagues raised over £400 towards the oncology department at the local hospital.

I ran an eighteen mile jaunt from Clevedon Pier to Filton Church to raise money for Alzheimer’s and dementia care. My nan – that’s my mum’s mum – died after ten years of slow vanishing.

I also ran the Brighton Marathon for the same cause (Alzheimer’s).

These things all have one thing in common: my mum encouraged and was proud of me.

These days, I don’t have that external energy driving me forward; I have to find my own motivation. I can conjure up the odd encouraging thought (eg “you’re doing great”), but without mum’s encouragement, it is so much more difficult.

There is a part of me that asks myself “What’s the point?”