I feel there is a certain completeness with this 'cluster' of runs that I'm doing (that's the collective pronoun for running, didn't you know?!.....he lied). There is the obvious reason that they are increasing in length, culminating in the longest and most prestigious of the lot (although right now I kinda wish I'd started with the marathon!). What makes it all the more special is that the Greats Manchester and North have been run for the British Heart Foundation in loving memory of my Dad, Peter Blaydon; and now the biggest and best is for AGE UK in loving and living (still with us!!) memory of my Mum, Norah Blaydon.
Mum is the female half of the dynamic duo otherwise known as 'my parents'. She is quite simply a kind, strong, intelligent, caring, gentle, occasionally stubborn but utterly-beautiful-in-every-way woman. She has been that way for all the time I have known her (biased? me??), and I suspect no matter how long I turn the clock back or forward, the same descriptives will apply. She also merits the same plaudits as awarded to Dad for successfully rearing six children during so many tough economic climes where money was on more than one occasion very short. Speaking as a man with no kids and often finding life less than easy, I see this achievement as nothing short of spectacular.
I know with Dad I selected anecdotes; certain events that I associate with him (walking, my university plans, emotions, regrets) but that is not so easy with Mum. There are fewer 'stand-out' moments with her. She has just been a constant; always there, always reliable, always supportive (even if it meant saying something you didn't want to hear), always allowing us to be ourselves, to make our own future, to back us up. At first, I thought that the phrase 'always there' was a really boring thing to say about someone; but in actual fact it is the best thing you can be, especially as a Mum. No fanfare, no whistles and bells; just presence.
That said, there might be a few bits which are just so........Mum......!
Chips!
Nope, not the greasy fried kind (mmmmmm....chiiiiiiiiiiiips!); this is the card game kind. It's a variation on chase the ace?.....ringing any bells, or have I totally lost you now?! Never mind, I'm sure you've played it even while calling it something different....anyway that's not the point! Get to the point Blaydon (it's around here somewhere.....)
I would say it is the first real memory of Mum I carry with me, and the perfect example of something so simple being so memorable. On so many evenings, I remember sitting in the kitchen, watching Mum finish up the washing off (those being the days when not everyone owned a dishwasher; unlike now, when Mum...still doesn't own a dishwasher!), badgering the crap out of her to play a game. She never did turn me down. First to 100 loses!
After a while it became a bit of an evening routine. Funnily enough, I don't remember much about the game itself; but counting the number of plates left for Mum to dry before we could play is certainly an image I cannot forget. That's all a little boy wants isn't it? A chance to spend some time with his Mummy; and time was certainly something which Mum never deprived me of. Oh, and before you tut-tut about me not helping wash the pots, at five years old I was nowhere near high enough to reach the kitchen sink!
Famous Five
Oh how happiness was as easy as Julian, Dick, George (he was a girl you know?!), Anne and Timmy the dog! I admit it, I devoured the books when I was a ickle one and could get through a book in one day without breaking a sweat. Every time when Mum went shopping, the familiar mantra ringing in her ears was 'MUUUUUM! CAN YOU BRING ME BACK A FAMOUS FIVE BOOK????' and as soon as she brought one back I was gobbling it - metaphorically - up.
Sadly, Mum's shopping trips were not frequent enough to keep me Fived full time; often I was left to find alternative literature.....miserable come down after the climax of another adventure.....('Five Go To Kirrin Island', 'Five Go To Kirrin Island Again', 'Five Revisit Kirrin Island Getting a Bit Samey Now', 'Five Getting Sick To The Back Teeth Of Kirrin Island') I would on my lowest days resort to.......gasp......The Hardy Boys (shudder).
Mum though, on occasion, had a trick up her sleeve. She didn't buy the one book, she bought two! Imagine my delight when she produced 'Five Go To Billycock Hill', suddenly taking me from the sadness of a book end, to the beginning of a new adventure!
If you are thinking 'what is he doing, bringing this up as such a ridiculous story?!!' you are very entitled to your opinion, but the smarter people among you will see this as an example of someone who is exactly in tune with what a little boy likes and wants, and wherever possible - not always! - gives them just that. Basically a perfect Mum!
Ireland
I'm sure I am not alone in having difficulty imagining my parents as a younger boy and girl, but I got a thick slice of the young Norah when we took a week's holiday to County Clare. Kilkee was where Mum was born, where she grew up; and where she was....wait for it.....A GIRL!!
The stories came flooding out, the family, the stories, the tying a vicious goat to the front door of a neighbour's house, the walking barefoot down to the well to pick up water; we even went to her school, and found the hook where she used to hang up her coat! In no time I went from finding it impossible to imagine Mum as little, to being impossible not to. Mum seemed so much younger. It was a truly eye-opening experience, and I can categorically confirm that my Mum - now over eighty years old - used to be a girl!
It is a quite beautiful country, and I learned a lot about Mum's - and of course, my - heritage. In that week I gained a new appreciation for Mum; how difficult and how simply beautiful life had been for her, and without doubt how difficult it was for her to leave all that for the North West of England. Such courage.
I sat next to Mum on the flight back across the Irish sea, and as I turned away from the window, she was a flood of tears. Asking why she was upset, she took a look outside at the disappearing land; waved, and said 'bye bye'. It was heart-breaking. I guess she knew then that she would never return there.
And Now??
Mum is as beautiful as ever. I don't think I am betraying a lady's modesty by telling you she is now in her eighties, and rattling around on her own in a house which used to accommodate her, Dad, and six children. This is her home, and she is quite right to want to spend the remainder of her days within those four walls.
She has had her difficulties, but right now is doing brilliantly. This is down not only to the love and care she gets from her children and grandchildren, but from the help she gets from so many sources; not least of which is Age UK.
I love my Mum, as do my siblings; but we also all have our lives which Mum fiercely ensures that we keep on living. It is the natural order of things, I know; but before we got outside help, this meant that the only times when Mum saw anyone was at the weekends. For sure it left Mum under-stimulated and lonely (it would me!); and the guilt and worry would kill me when I go home after spending the weekend with her; leaving her in that huge house. I would ask myself whether I am a bad son for driving away, but I didn't have a lot of choice.
Enter stage left, AGE Concern and various other organisations who specialise in care for the elderly whilst allowing them to remain in their homes. She now has a much more older-friendly environment to live in (handrails in all the right places), and has regular visits, both from people to help her with the basic practicalities of life, as well as to just spend some time with her. As a result, Mum is so much better; hell, she's got a busier social life than me!!
Let's not sugarcoat it; Mum's time with us is limited, and with the remaining years she - we - have left the mission is utterly and completely simple; we just want her to be happy. The help she is now getting has done so much for her quality of life, and the results are so clear to see. I am so thankful to all those people who have 'made this happen', and running the London Marathon for AGE UK is I think a fitting way to honour them, and of course my Mum.
Norah Blaydon, mum; I love you very much, and this one's for you xxx
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