Never Too Late

By Jan Abbott

Do you have ambitions that you haven't fulfilled because the opportunity never arose, you never gave them a go, or simply time has passed and you now feel just too old to achieve them? Jan Abbott felt exactly that as the years rolled by and her long held dream of running the London Marathon faded.

Enjoy the journey of this inspirational memoir as it winds through the ups and downs of everyday life and explains why a 56 year old grandmother would decide to take up marathon running. It's one woman's story of grit and determination as she battles through her own trials and tribulations, proving it's never too late to realise your dreams.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Aug 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483691633

Jan Abbott

Jan Abbott lives with her husband in Hong Kong. They have 4 children, 5 grandchildren and counting. She is a retired teacher with a passion for children, travel and adventure and has had a life long interest in sport and fitness.

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Copyright © 2014 by Jan Abbott.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 02/03/2014

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CONTENTS

Foreword

Why run a marathon?

London Marathon 2009: my dream begins

London Marathon 2010: fundraising on a different level

London Marathon 2011: the best ever

Into the unknown

FOREWORD

What follows is simply a memoir of a few years of my life and how I managed to turn myself round. It tells of a journey, the adventure of life, as I struggled with difficult issues. I have purposefully left out the details of why, at times, life was hard because I believe not to do so would limit the reach of my words, but I hope by reading it, people will be inspired to push themselves through their own problems and emerge at the other side stronger and smiling.

Dreams can be achieved, but sometimes it takes sheer grit and determination, and in the whole roller coaster of life, it’s never too late to fulfil yours.

WHY RUN A MARATHON?

It was 1980. I was pregnant with my fourth child, and we were watching the first London Marathon. I was absolutely enthralled. I’d never done much running but had always been quite fit, and the whole spectacle, the colours, the atmosphere, the scale of the event ignited a spark. I made it a serious ambition to be on the start line at some time in the future.

The years rolled by, and my family, my studying, and then my teaching career kept me pretty busy. The marathon lay dormant in the back of my mind, but I’d left it too late, and eventually, as it often happens, dreams are wasted along the way.

I tend to do things at a time that is right for me, rather than when most people would do them. So I married my childhood sweetheart, Steve, and we had four children by the time we were 27. Our eldest was 4 when our fourth was born. Through my teenage years, I’d struggled terribly with lack of confidence, and this continued into adulthood. I have no idea why; I wasn’t particularly talented at anything, but equally, I could do most things I tried. People seemed to be the constraining factor, and I found it very difficult to do anything in front of others. It was one reason I took up squash. I had always been sporty and competitive but felt very self-conscious. With this sport, the courts were all enclosed, and I chose to play at times when nobody would be watching from the balcony. After a couple of years, I managed to get selected for the team and, with a huge gulp, swallowed my nerves. I guess it’s the same for a lot of people to get nervous, but I’d always let it beat me before. It was time to fight back. It wasn’t until I’d had Liz, our fourth child, when I slowly began to turn things round. It’s funny how it happened. I found motherhood suited me perfectly, and I was completely in my element, surrounded by my growing family with all the trials and tribulations that young children bring. I just loved it. However, a friend, a very successful lawyer, had just had her second baby and was seriously struggling to cope. She couldn’t wait to get back to work, to get back into her comfort zone. It suddenly dawned on me that I could do things just as well as everybody else. Everyone has their own niche, and what suits one person may not suit another.

I made a resolution to try to challenge myself. It was sports day at my children’s school, and there was to be mum’s race. I didn’t allow myself the luxury of choice. My heart was pounding as I walked along the track and through gritted teeth, I took my place on the start line, shaking, in the line-up of five. Hardly the Olympics! This was a primary school where the track was simply the grass playing field, but the whole school—teachers, children, and parents—was watching. I prayed I wouldn’t fall. I didn’t; I came second. The placing is immaterial; it was the fact that I’d run the race and survived. Daft as it sounds, it was a momentous occasion. My challenges increased, pushing myself enough to be just outside my comfort zone each time. I determined to do a challenge every year and felt ready to do my degree with the Open University, which I did whilst working as a childminder and bringing up our children. I’d decided not to go to university after leaving school because I just couldn’t face it. I allowed myself to succumb to my fears instead of dealing with them, and I avoided situations that I found uncomfortable. The OU is a distance learning programme, but there are tutorials and summer schools to attend. I was so petrified on the morning of my first tutorial. I had severe tummy trouble, and I was in tears. I took a sharp intake of breath as I entered the room and left two and a half hours later without having said a word or made the slightest contribution, but I was on my way. Actually, I don’t think I contributed to many of those sessions. I was the silent participant who conscientiously showed up every time but didn’t have the confidence to open one’s mouth and share one’s views. I might as well have been a ghost. Five years, many tutorials, and seven summer schools later, I so proudly collected my 2.1 honours degree in psychology from Cardiff University in front of all my family—my husband, my children, my sisters, and my mum and dad. I wasn’t any more confident, but I had achieved something. Many people