It prepares you for the worst, even when the worst is unfeasible.
It paints a picture of a scary, doomed outcome on the brightest and sunniest of days.
It makes you fear the outcome, kyboshing the journey to even get there.
It’s your heart suddenly beginning to race in a supermarket aisle, your chest pounding when sitting motionless, that nobody sees.
It’s fight or flight that won’t switch off – on constant repeat. Only there’s no one to fight, and no need to take flight.
It’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to jump off. But jump where? Into some invisible, non-existent place where only fear lives.
It’s standing, sword drawn, opposite an invisible opponent – a permanency of ‘en garde’.
It’s all these things, and a million more. And it can never, EVER win.
Here’s why …
The silent, daily battles, the mini-victories.
Pushing yourself out the front door when it would be so much easier not to.
Refusing to allow the world to shrink, whilst the Dream Stealer feeds on the remnants of your joy.
Smiling, and faking confidence when you’re terrified inside.
Starting a conversation with the quiet mum in the school playground.
Saying ‘Yes’ when every ounce of your being wishes it were a No’; saying No, thank you’ when compulsion and obligation try to steer you to go.
Standing on the start line with a dry mouth, wishing it were the finish.
Entering ‘Destination: Unknown’ into your internal satnav and revving up the engine.
Pressing that ‘send’ button and risking rejection.
Clicking ‘submit’ because there’s ever such a small chance that you might win.
Taking part when you doubt you have much to contribute.
Walking into a room when it feels infinitely safer to stay outside.
Picking up the phone when you’d rather switch it to silent.
Asking the question you’ve tried hard to swallow.
Not listening to the small talk, or the ones who just gossip. Or to those who are jealous because their dreams have already curled up and died.
Walking past the crowd, with your head held high.
Meeting up for a coffee, regardless of the panic rising inside.
Asking for help when you can’t face it alone, despite the only comfortable place being by yourself.
All these are what will keep the Dream Stealer away from your door.
I know, because I’ve done them all many, many times before.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As with the evolving journey I’ve been on since Running For My Life was published in January 2018, life moves on – everything changes. And so, with this – my second non-fiction book, my life has shifted and morphed into a different shape. None of us can plan for these things. Nobody can account for the sliding doors and the transient nature of this rollercoaster ride we call life. But this rather unexpected chapter of my personal story has heralded some incredible memories, and some amazing people who have all been a part of the adventure. And that’s what it is – an amazing adventure.
When things threw me off track in the early part of 2017, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do or where to find my ‘safe place’. Things fell apart, and many people have played a part in helping me to piece together the fragments that were left from a dark place, and to help me turn towards the sunshine again.
I am indebted to all those people – those close to me for loving and supporting me through the carnage of life’s upheaval; to my mum for standing and cheering me on whatever the circumstance. To the friends – both old and new – who have been there to walk and talk, laugh and cry with. Sean, Rhiannon, Steph and Emma. Thanks for making the difference in massive – and tiny – ways. And to JF, my BFF from a long time ago. To rediscover your friendship after all these years has been like an infusion of pure happiness into my life.
Getting my old mountain bike out and pushing past my fear was as steep a learning curve as I would care to imagine. But I have met the most incredible people on my journey – people who showed me that real, ordinary folk can and do cycle across countries like Costa Rica(!). My deep thanks to all those incredible people who have crossed my path along the way. Jackie, Caroline, Sarah and Vanessa, Luke and the boys – you were and are my heroes! Trixie, Karen, Steph, both Emmas and the guys who I was lucky enough to meet – the same is true for our adventures cycling across Vietnam. And to Sam – the best guide with the biggest heart who bandaged me up in Costa Rica, and made me believe that I could do it – that I could get to the finish. Thank you so much for all your kindness, and for making this world a little bit brighter.
It goes without saying that the continued support, encouragement and guidance of my agent, Jo Bell, and editor, Beth Eynon, has continued way beyond the first book, and in fact beyond any book. Thank you for your friendship and your constant, unfailing belief in my ability to somehow pour words – and my heart – onto the page.
I must also thank all the people who have contacted me since reading Running For My Life. Over a period of two years, I have received hundreds of messages from people who can relate to some aspect of my story. I have received selfies of my book in far-flung places, from remote Africa to Antarctica, and I have heard deeply personal accounts from those who have experienced similar issues to my own. To every one of those people, thank you for reaching out, and for making me believe that my story was worth sharing. I know, now, that I was never alone.
Finally, to my beautiful girl, Tilly. You are my joy and my sunshine. You are the reason I continue to battle with the bastard chimp every single day. Thank you for challenging me in ways I couldn’t even imagine, and for bringing me the deepest possible joy. This book – and all the lessons I have learned – wouldn’t have been possible if it wasn’t for you.
A Midlife Cyclist Page 24