Concrete Walls and the Kindness of Strangers: Just Another Week in the Chair

Ah, Monday again. Time to pretend the whirlwind of last week didn’t happen quite as chaotically as I remember. But let's be honest, if weeks were tornadoes, mine would be named and tracked by the Met Office.

Training-wise, I'm clocking kilometers like I’m trying to collect them all. Last week? 167 km. The month? A breezy 657 km. That’s basically three ultra marathons a week, with a track session and gym thrown in for good measure. I’ve stopped calling it “training” and started calling it “an overly committed relationship.”

End of June is “test week,” which in normal human language means I’m simulating back-to-back ultra marathons just shy of 8 in a row. Because…why not casually mimic agony?

And then, the glitter: the unveiling of the Rugby World Cup in Exeter doubled as the perfect moment to launch this years epic event, supported by none other than World Rugby and the rugby world cup. I’ll even be rocking new kit with their logo on it soon. Dreamy.

Highlight of the week? Chatting with Sarah Massey, CEO of the Rugby World Cup, who’s as kind as she is brilliant. One conversation later, I’ve been invited to speak at their staff conference. Cue nerves and caffeine!

Tomorrow, I’ll be up on stage with 150 Rugby World Cup staff, interviewed by the charming Nick Heath. I’ll be talking about the ins and outs of the last event, this upcoming beast, and why I do it all: to fundraise, to elevate women’s rugby, and to help others realise just what they can do, even with “less-than-ideal” kit (and bodies).

But let’s not gloss over the literal crash of the week. Picture this: I’m up at 3am for an ultra training session after a blissful 90 minutes of sleep. Spoiler alert: things went downhill fast. Picture me, dozing off mid-roll, colliding headfirst into a concrete block and flying out of my wheelchair. I landed on my stump. Woke up on the ground. Unsure if I was knocked out or just tired enough to bypass reality.

Enter the unexpected hero of the day: a woman with a white cane who checked on me and ended up chatting about what she usually bumps into. You can’t make this stuff up.

With dignity (somewhere), bruises, and a violently colourful leg, I had a decision to make. Stop? Be sensible? Naturally, I did a marathon instead. Eventually, I tapped out. The path got too busy, the leg got too painful, and common sense finally kicked in. But I still knocked out 50 km the next day. Because, you know, logic!

A few lovely radio interviews rounded out the week, where I talked about my "why" fundraising, giving back to women’s rugby, and what’s possible. Compliments? Still awkward. I’m just someone who rolls in a chair. But I’ll take the kindess and carry it with me.

Looking ahead: more people, more chats, more coffee with some lovely people who are helping me through some little irritations, and, of course, more training. Because the chair may have its bruises, but the mission has momentum.