I'm OK (and other news from the road)

So a marshal at Falkirk parkrun stopped me on Saturday — I was walking it, more on that later — and told me I needed to write another newsletter to let everyone know I was okay. Apparently I left the last one on a right cliffhanger: officially homeless on the Monday, van broken down, dog on lifelong heart medication, off to Croatia. And then… nothing. For ages. 😬

I hadn't realised anyone was sitting there wondering how it all turned out. Chuffed you read these. 🥹

So first things first: I'm okay. More than okay. Let me catch you up.

The move actually happened 🚐

Removals day came, the cottage got emptied, and I moved into the van full-time. That part went ahead exactly as planned which, given everything else falling apart around it, felt like a wee miracle.

There's a strange feeling to closing the door on a house you loved for the last time. Abercorn was magical and I'll not pretend I skipped out without a backward glance. But the second I was living in the van properly, the decision I'd made in that meditation made complete sense. It's small, it's mine, and it goes wherever I go. This is my sofa, this is my living room, and it happens to have a different view every morning. No regrets.

The van saga, part two (and part three) 🔧

The air suspension that collapsed the week I moved in got recovered to a specialist up north, and that turned into a saga I'll spare you. There's a dispute still rumbling on quietly in the background that I'm working through properly.

And then, in my first week actually back on the road, I got a puncture. Of course I did. 🙃 You reach a point where you just laugh, because when your home and your vehicle are the same object, every breakdown is also a wee eviction. My friends came through exactly as promised though — a van lent to me, a bed when I needed one, Bowski looked after while I was away. I said it last time and I'll say it again: being held by the people around you is its own kind of wealth.

Bowski update 🐶

He's still here, still a rascal, still bossing me about for his dinner. The medication is doing its job after the emergency vet trip, and he's back to himself. Twelve and a half going on puppy — everyone still asks if he's a puppy! Every good day with him is a bonus and I'm collecting them like wee treasures.

Croatia, and learning to do nothing ☀️

Then I went to Croatia with my sister. I'd wanted to go for years, and finally getting there, with her, meant more than I can neatly explain in a newsletter.

The Croatians have a word, fjaka. There's no clean English translation, but it's something like the art of doing nothing — a contented stillness where you're not chasing anything or fixing anything. You just are. It's sitting in the shade with the Adriatic flat and glassy in front of you, the heat pressing down, cicadas going in the pines, and not a single thought about what happens next. For someone who fills every hour with building — the coaching, the events, the plans — a whole week of that was medicine. No training plan to stick to, no van to worry about, just warm stone underfoot, salt on my skin, my sister beside me, and the kind of rest that actually resets you rather than the kind you feel guilty about.

If you'd told me a year ago I'd take a whole week off and not feel itchy about not running, I'd have laughed at you. Not running for a while has taught me a few things, and this was one of them: rest isn't the reward for the work, it's part of the work.

Samye Ling 🙏

In August I spent a week at Samye Ling, the Tibetan Buddhist retreat down in the Borders, on a Taijiquan retreat. I've had a meditation practice for a while now, but a week of it, properly, in that setting, is a different thing entirely.

I don't want to package it into neat wee lessons, because that would flatten it. But a few things came home with me. One morning by the river I had a proper emotional release, just sitting with the water, and I understood something about how much I hold onto without noticing. The standing meditation kept teaching me the same thing over and over: the harder you grip, the less steady you are. Root down, soften, let it settle. That's a Daoist idea, non-forcing — and it turns out it's the same lesson the running keeps trying to teach me. I'm going to write it up properly as its own post.

Why I was walking parkrun 🚶‍♀️

Right, the walking. Yeah, I'm still not running. BUT — I got my follow-up MRI results on Monday, and I got the all clear! 🎉 So the return to running can start… slowly.

Two stress fractures in twelve months taught me exactly what happens when I rush the return, and the work with Renee McGregor's team gave me the reasons why. So I'm being patient. I'm walking, I'm doing my strength work, I'm getting back out in the hills. There's a particular thing that happens when you take a hill at walking pace instead of running — you see more, you feel more, you're not just gritting your teeth to the top. Going slow and hiking has reminded me why I fell in love with being out there in the first place.

The full comeback post is coming when the time's right. In the meantime, if you're stuck on the sidelines yourself, I wrote about keeping your head right through injury here: Mental Training During Injury.

Supporting others: this year's whole point 🤝

The bit I'm most proud of. This year I couldn't race, so I set myself a different goal: to pour into other people's running instead of my own. And I think I'm smashing it.

I coached an athlete to his first 100-miler at the West Highland Way in 22:50, and crewed someone from my run club home in 23 and a half. Alice ran the Metro, which was brilliant to watch. This weekend I supported Michelle through Run the Borders 100k.

And I crewed my friend Lee through his 100k — his furthest ever distance — alongside his best friend Sarah and his wife Andie. That one had drama before it even started: it was meant to be loops at Glenmore, but wildfires forced a last-minute switch to loops of Oriam. There's a specific privilege in being trackside for someone's furthest-ever anything. You see the exact moment the doubt arrives, and you get to be one of the people who holds the line for them until it passes. Lee took it all in his stride and got the job done, and watching him go further than he'd ever gone, with his people around him, was one of the best days I've had all year.

I've said before that the best feedback I get isn't about PBs. It's when someone realises they can do more than they thought. This year I've got to stand right next to that happening, over and over, and it turns out it fills a cup I didn't know needed filling.

If you're crewing someone this season and want to do the job well, I wrote a full guide: How to Crew a Backyard Ultra. Most of it applies to any ultra, not just backyards.

The workshops are bookable 🏃‍♀️

The Running Movement Analysis Workshops I trained with Shane Benzie to deliver are live. If you've been reading along, you'll know I drove eight hours to Goring, got completely hooked, and spent months being trained to teach a decade of Shane's research — with him coming up to assess me leading two sessions. If you want in, get in touch and I'll get you booked. Running Movement Analysis Workshops

Something new: one-off consultations and mindset coaching 💛

Not everyone wants a full monthly coaching relationship, and I've heard that loud and clear. Sometimes you've already got a plan and you just want someone experienced to look it over. Sometimes it's your head that needs the work, not your training. So I'm adding two new things you can book on their own, coming very soon.

The first is an Initial Deep-Dive Consultation — a 60-minute session where we take your training schedule apart from a coaching perspective, look honestly at how you're fuelling, and map out a practical way to balance your energy load. One session, real answers, no commitment to anything ongoing. There'll be optional follow-up check-ins after that whenever you want a blip looked at or a confidence top-up as your miles change, but only if and when you need them.

The second is standalone mindset coaching. This is the between-the-ears work: race-day nerves, the fear of a DNF, managing pain cave spirals, the identity wobble when injury pulls a goal away, the self-talk that can undo months of training in twenty minutes. It's the part of running I care about most, and now you can book it on its own.

Both go live shortly. And a wee honest word on timelines, because I say this to everyone: breakthroughs can come in a few weeks, or they can take up to a year if the thing's deep-rooted — but the change always comes. If you already know you want first shout when these open, just drop me an email and I'll make sure you're near the front of the queue. In the meantime you can see how I work over on the coaching pages.

Beecraigs 2027 🍯

Quick reminder: 2027 sold out in 24 hours. The next Beecraigs Backyard Ultra is 24 April 2027, and if you want a place for 2028, the waiting list is the only way you'll hear before everyone else. The full "how I built the race from scratch" write-up is still on my list — as are the trophies from Zibah at Linlithgow Pottery, which I can never resist mentioning.

If you fancy volunteering (a guaranteed cracking weekend, I promise) pop your details on this form and I'll be in touch over the coming months. Volunteer form

Still on the way 📝

The proper posts I owe you are getting written. Three are done and coming to the blog soon: the West Highland Way first-timer's guide from all three sides, the honest van life logistics post, and the big one on iron, ferritin and bone health for female endurance runners. Also still to come: the Samye Ling reflections, how I built Beecraigs, and my running comeback.

What's next 🗺️

My first ever trip to Arran! Chamonix with a group of us is on the horizon — hill walking, not running, before anyone worries. Another Tai Chi experience, this time a weekend retreat on the Holy Isle. Then hopefully the Hebrides to see my mum in October, and in November the big one: two weeks around the north of India, which I've wanted to do ever since Shantaram got under my skin.

So that's the update. No cliffhanger this time, I promise. I'm okay, Bowski's okay, the van will be okay, and the next chapter is very much underway.

Thank you to everyone who reads these. I didn't know you were out there until someone said. It means the world. 🤩

If any of this year's supporting-others theme has stirred something in you, and there's a race or a goal you've been circling, my door's open for a free coaching call. No obligation, just a blether about where you are and what's getting in the way.

Run 🏃‍♀️ smile 😃 inspire 💫

— Kayleigh 🍌