Sliding a giant, fabric orange over my head, I wriggled it down around my body and looked in the mirror, unable to stop myself from giggling. It was April 2009, and I was preparing to run my second London Marathon, and I couldn’t wait to hear the crowds cheering me on.
For the past 11 years, I’d been a physiotherapist in the army, helping severely wounded soldiers, but the stress had taken its toll and I struggled daily with depression and anxiety. Running had become a cathartic outlet for me
