jackie-scully-charity-wedding

I joke with my husband now that I am glad he took 13 years to propose. Had he not, our house would be packed with happy memories, but little meaning. When I look at my wedding ring now I am reminded not just of the person who gives me a reason to smile each and every day, but of all the people who made our love possible.
Life has a way of tripping us up, changing the path and the focus of our lives when we (usually) least want it to. It breaks the heating when we're running a fever. The internet goes down when we're on a deadline. The trains stop running when we make a special effort to get to work early.
It's not always pretty - says the woman with the terrible gait, fluffy chemo-styled hair, dodgy hips and injury-battered body. But, what's so brilliant about this great leveller of a sport, is that however you do it, wherever you do it and whatever technique you use to get round, you get to call yourself a runner.
When you're training for a marathon, everyone will tell you about the fear of injury...
It worries me that I can identify a proper one from a supermarket fake on a blind taste test (and that I have actually conducted said test). It worries me that I ordered a kilo bag from Amazon the week before a race and there weren't any left by the time we got to the start line. It worries me that I choose to eat them before dinner as a snack - along with my parents.
How do you thank people for going out of their way to be kind when you face huge challenges in your life? For someone who likes to give, it was a question that plagued me as my living room was turned into a garden centre and my shelves filled with beautiful cards and messages during treatment for breast cancer.
Hope got me out in my trainers and into the fresh air. Hope got me through my first 10k on chemo. Hope gave me the confidence to book a wedding ceremony an hour before the London Marathon (which for someone with a hip full of metal is a risky strategy). And, it is hope that is what has me smiling again today.
Because, on that cold Sunday morning, I learned something about friendship that I think I would have never discovered tucked away in some remote cottage sipping a bit too much Champagne out of rather oddly-shaped male straws.
When you've fought for your life, it's hard to plan too far ahead and rest your happiness on one day in the future. So, when we started talking about our wedding earlier this year, I knew there was only one way to do it. There wouldn't be an aisle. There wouldn't be a first dance. There wouldn't be a day in the Cotswolds.