10 years ago, my partner of 24 years, Ann, was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer. I had just joined my local running group in London, Thames Valley Harriers (TVH). As a relatively new member of the club, I didn’t know many people which I thought was a blessing-it meant I didn’t need to speak to anyone. I didn’t want to have to tell my story. I wanted to be anonymous and just be another runner who was there to improve. My story was too painful and distressing to have to share at that point in my life. When you are running round a track doing pyramids, reps, sprints etc you can only concentrate on your race, thankfully you can’t think of anything else. By the end of the evening, I would always come away feeling lighter, optimistic about the days ahead and physically tired out which meant I might sleep better, something I had not being doing.

2 years later and I was on my own, a widow at only 53. My life had collapsed, and the love of my life was no longer with me. I decided to run the London Marathon in memory of Ann and fundraise for Cancer Research. I focused on my training plan and ran like I had never run before. Not because of the discipline of sticking to my schedule, or the mileage I was clocking up, but because I was running through my grief. The pain, the anger, the hurt, the loss, the loneliness, the injustice, the incomprehension of losing the love of my live, my soulmate. There were days when I ran with tears streaming down my face; other times when my entire body was too heavy to move and I felt like I was dragging a ton of concrete around with me. Or the time when I just kept going and ran miles and miles, ending up lost and had to get an Uber home.

Running gave me the space and time to work through the horrendous emotions that come with grief. It never expects answers or solutions, it just takes you to a place that brings you out some where better than where you started. It provides structure and purpose to your day when all you want to do is stay under the duvet and cry. It gave me a reason to live when I didn’t want to be alive.

And stay alive I did. I ran the 2016 London Marathon 15 minutes faster than my previous effort in 2011. I felt that Ann was with me all the way and at one point when it was particularly tough, she took my hand and dragged me along. The elation of crossing the finishing line was immense. I was at peace with myself again and she was in my soul to never leave me. Running got me through the worst time of my life and helped me get it back on track to face the next day, and the next and the next.

Fast forward 5 years & I decided to leave London and return to Glasgow my hometown. One of the first things I did was find a running club as I knew running was core to my being and critical for my mental health especially as I was adjusting to a new life. Glasgow Front Runners (GFR) came up in my search. My previous running club was not specifically LBQTQIA, so I had not automatically looked for a queer friendly club. I liked the GFR website and the range of different runs and balance between running and social events. I decided to join.

Joining GFR was one of the best decisions I have made since returning to Glasgow. I have found my new running family who have welcomed me with open arms. They manage to combine a passion for running, be warm and welcoming and have lots of good fun along the way. What more can a girl who loves the company of women, proud to be gay and committed to running wish for?

My journey to manage the loss of Ann never stops, I’m just better at keeping it at bay. GFR has played a positive and big part in that journey. It has supported me to create a new life in Glasgow and still enjoy the love of running. Thank you to everyone I have met in the club so far.

Frankie Lynch