TRUE-LIFE
Sliding a giant, fabric orange over my head, I wriggled it down around my body and took a look in the mirror.
‘Zesty,’ I laughed, inspecting my outfit.
It was April 2009, and I was preparing to run my second London Marathon.
For the past 11 years, I’d been a physiotherapist in the Army, helping severely wounded soldiers.
The stress took its toll.
I struggled daily with depression and anxiety, yet as soon as I started running I felt myself relax.
Now, by wearing a wacky costume I hoped to
