Catriona Morrison

There is a saying that reads: “What’s for you won’t go by
you.” I’ve often believed this. It doesn’t mean that I expect good things
in life to materialise or that I’m unmotivated to pursue my goals and dreams.
For me it means that when you want something, you strive to get there and if
you are unsuccessful despite your best efforts then perhaps it wasn’t meant to
be. Last year despite my best efforts I was unable to compete in St Croix. It was not meant to be.

This year because of my best efforts I made it to the race. In doing so I achieved the goal that has
been my driving force for the past 6 months of surgery rehab. I was so happy
just to stand on the start line. In fact I was more than happy. I was scared,
anxious and emotional. I probably cried more times in the past 5 days than I
have in a while. Tears were shed at the airport when I arrived and reunited
with my St Croix buddies. Tears were shed before the start of the race as it meant so much to be there.

Tears were shed after the race: of relief, of joy and of sadness. Often in sports psychology
the trick is to suppress your emotional side, to control your reactions and
concentrate on the act of performance. 18 months on the benches is a long time
and performance was not at the top of my race day goals. Much as I wanted to, I
didn’t need or want to compare myself to the athlete who had won this race in
the past. I wanted to have fun and enjoy simply doing a race. And I did have
fun. I smiled, I laughed, I enjoyed. I raced against myself the whole way. I
raced in memory of my Dad.  Every time it got hard, each time I started to waver and have doubts I put them aside and I pushed myself harder. I wanted him to be proud of me. I know how much he loved to
watch me race and in finishing the race I honoured his memory in my own way.
Being victorious was so very unexpected and very special. There is a place for
emotion in athletic performances, as long a it drives you onwards rather than
dragging you downwards.

St Croix 2013 was for me and for everyone that has helped and supported me through some tough times and for that I am truly grateful.

On the surgeon’s table in October, trying to disassociate myself from
the sensations of my achilles being nipped and tucked, pulled and pushed and
(hopefully) bettered, I was day-dreaming. I could see myself lining up in the
warm seas of the Caribbean readying myself for the start of 70.3 St
Croix. In this pleasant daydream, I am, of course, tanned, race
ready, fighting fit and on the cusp of a performance that would stand me in
good stead to regain the 70.3 St Croix title.
The tan withstanding, these conditions have all been previously experienced!

Dreaming: freeing your mind to explore, finding something that you’d
ultimately like to achieve. The challenge is to then take that dream pave its path with goals, targets, blood, sweat and the occasional tear. On the continuum of ultimate ambitions and challenges doing a middle distance triathlon is not a particularly earth-shattering target for a professional
triathlete. However, having St Croix scribbled at the centre of my mental dart board has given me
some clarity and focus during my post-surgical rehabilitation. This race has
been and remains my focal point. I know that there are both potentially positives
and negatives to this myopic outlook. On one hand everyone can benefit from
defined aims and objectives in their training. I am no different. I enjoy
planning, preparing and executing. I thrive on having purpose and I derive
satisfaction and motivation in achieving interim goals: the ever-expanding
positive feedback loop! Being able to transition back into training has
returned some much needed structure to my life. With all the ups and downs of
last year it’s comforting to feel like things are back on an even keel.

There may however be some potential stumbling blocks in this sole focus
I’ve not explored any “What Ifs”. What if I don’t manage to get there? At present I
don’t think that I can contemplate this scenario. I’m investing too much
physical and emotional energy into the daily journey to get to the start line.
I don’t want to be distracted by the potential ramifications – real or
imagined, of not achieving this. All going according to plan, I hope that the
toughest post-St Croix challenge will be deciding which races come next.

One of the by-products my single goal approach is that I have had to be
brutally honest with myself on how well I can realistically expect to
perform. I have to remind myself that the goal is to get to the race: to be
healthy and physically capable of pushing myself as hard as I can on the day.
After a season on the benches this in itself should surely be reward
enough!? And therein lies the biggest challenge: acceptance of performance
based on present form- not past victories or unrealistic expectations.

I’ve been training reasonably consistently since the New Year tempered
by the usual periods of winter illness. I have developed a newfound ability to
respect my body and mind: I’m more proactive in trying to prevent injury and I
am learning to admit to and respond more quickly to signs of fatigue and
illness. I guess that that’s mostly attributable to age and experience!!

As St Croix approaches (faster than I would like!), foremost in my mind is that this race will be a measure of my current stage in rehabilitation. I can’t afford to risk my rehab progress by
over-doing training in the desire to get fit yesterday. I know that my heart, lungs and mind have both the capacity and desire to absorb volumes of training. My biomechanical, muscular and skeletal self are a little more
reticent. It’s all about finding a workable balance between what I want to do,
what I can do and what I need to do. In exploring this niche I am heartened by
the age-old and much repeated fable of the tortoise and the hare. And so I plod
on in the knowledge that the best things come to those who wait!

I’m sure that I got 35 of them during the events of last year! Last week I”celebrated” my 36th birthday in true (long distance) triathlon style by doing a 5 hour turbo. It was all about the challenge, every last sweaty boring minute of
it. Sometimes you have to prove to yourself that you can do things that are more mental than physical, or at least I do! It certainly made the birthday cake and prosecco taste that much better. Two days later I lasted 90 mins. I was  fighting the whole way to the final whistle. I called time early. Things were just not right. I stepped off the bike somewhat ungraciously and ungracefully and drew a line under the day. Swings and roundabouts. Some days you’ve got it, some days it’s so far away you question if you ever had it in the first place. This is not an uncommon feeling for many athletes but when you are rehabbing and starting from a lower than previously experienced baseline these wee niggling thoughts seem to make more of a regular appearance. However, regardless of whether it’s up or down, there is definitely more happening in the exercise department than there was when I last sat down to blog. It’s been almost 3 months since my surgery. The scars have healed beautifully, although I don’t think that I will ever forget the clinking cutlery noises coming from behind me as I lay on the bed! And, as my ankles have never been viewed as one of my more redeeming features (unless I tell you the story of *that time* on the plane when a clearly deluded, but attractive, Spanish man told me I had the most wonderful ankles he had ever seen and invited me to run away with him……) I’m not viewing my scars as an aesthetic detriment. I’ve been able to start slowly building up my training. This was greatly aided by a cheeky wee trip to Aguilas, Spain which is my winter bolt hole. Richard and I booked our holidays from work and fled the country celebrating both Christmas and New Year in the sun. This trip was very relaxed. It was about exercising for no other reason than for sheer enjoyment. After being stuck in the blocks for so long I finally felt as if I was able to “take my marks”. I’m running regularly and have progressed to 35mins at a steady pace. When I reach the milestone of 10km I am sure that you will all hear about it!  Unfortunately I have to admit that my time away from running seems to have turned me into a bit of a softy. I enjoyed being outside in the warm in Spain but my present regime is all treadmill based. Option 1: cold and soggy underfoot and Option 2: ice rink conditions have encouraged me indoors!

Now that I’m at home again the challenge has been getting back into the swing of things. This typically takes me a week of pining for warm climates lost before I pull up my (thermal) granny pants. Usually this is in terms of training but as I’m presently at work I also got to suffer the indignity of having to ask for IT assistance when I couldn’t remember my login passwords. Three weeks of exercise and my brain is mush!

Thermal pants aside, the return to some structured training has at kick started 2013 on a positive note. Somewhere inside me there is a fit person fighting to make a re-appearance!

Those of you who read my sporadic blog (hi mum!) will be more than aware of the trials and tribulations of this year. Some of you may just want to stop reading now, or bed down with a pillow as you commit to read any further! As always, I truck on and endeavor to make the most out of sub-optimal situations. It’s now been over a year since I last raced. And over a year of inconsistent training during which time I have immersed myself in trying to figure out the who, what, where, why and how of my persistently grumbling achilles. During this time I’ve had other challenges to deal with. I’ve cried lots, laughed lots, learned lots and been humbly reminded time and time again that life is not about what gets thrown at you. It’s about how you respond.

If I’m honest, I’ve not really missed racing. It wasn’t difficult or stressful or emotional watching the season go by. It was certainly frustrating. But it was year of all sorts of wonderful athletic performances that I have greatly enjoyed. An Olympic year is always special. As an athlete it’s wonderful to watch all the pain, triumph, disaster and glory – you know what it is like, you empathize and sympathize. Most of all you are inspired. I’ve not missed racing because putting myself on the start line is a mark of being ready for the challenge. Racing comes when I am strong in body and in mind. It comes when I am prepared and when I want to show myself and others that I am up for the fight. And however much I want to be fighting, the truth is that this season it has been at best unrealistic and at worst impossible. I may not have missed competition but what I have missed is being in peak condition and having the privilege to make the decision to race. That’s where I want to be. That’s where I want to get back to: being able to choose to race. I have longed for the ability to train hard and to push myself. I want to feel the buzz of doing things that I thought were impossible and to revel in the deep satisfaction that comes from a long training day in the bag.

Injuries, whether they are short term (breaking my clavicle) or long term (ouchy achilles), are an emotional feast: denial, frustration, delusion, acceptance, tolerance and patience all come to the table in varying forms. When these emotions are directed inwards you run the risk of delving into the depths of self pity and when they occasionally turn out to the world you risk unfairly lashing out at those who love and support you. I like to think that I have, for the most part, kept things in check. Part of my coping strategy is to believe that things often happen for a reason and that “what’s for me won’t go by me”. I also subscribe to the belief that opportunities are out there, you just have to go looking for them. My personal athletic ambitions have been temporarily thwarted but at the same time I’ve changed tack and concentrated on what I can do rather than dwelling on what I can’t. I started to volunteer for the charity ‘Winning Scotland Foundation’ on their Champions in Schools programme (a role model programme that inspires and motivates young people through sport). This has kept my mind busy and allowed me to contribute to the inspiration and physical and mental well-being of young people in Scotland. This has now turned into a temporary part-time job – bonus! I am doing something I truly believe makes a difference in society, I am engaged, I am challenged and I have time to commit my own modified “training”.

On the “training front” I’ve been keeping my body ticking over at a level that I would have previously considered close to sedentary! However, one of the most important things that I have done is to re-set my fitness goals in line with my current situation. It is counter-productive to measure my athletic conditioning against where I have been in the past and where my peers are now. It’s more important to be active, healthy and happy. Sometimes even maintaining a basic level of physical activity has been challenging. For a while swimming was the weapon of necessity when running and biking were banned in the attempt to research their impact on my achilles. And then I had an altercation with the tarmac and the resulting broken collar bone meant that swimming became a one-armed “near drowning” activity. Biking ground to a halt until I could hold onto both handlebars and “enjoy” the delights of indoor cycling again.

And now? This week I took big steps. After 3.5 years of achilles discomfort and conservative management, 3.5 years of boom and bust running and 3.5 years of frustration and worsening symptoms it was time to accept that my body needed surgical intervention. I had both achilles scraped and 5cm of plantaris tendon removed from both ankles.
The procedure took little more than an hour and was performed under local anaesthetic. There was some good general banter between patient and practitioners, some priceless comments regarding the volume of fat infiltration into my tendons (medical verification of cankles!) and few personal panicky requests for some more anaesthetic. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.

The surgical follow-up and report were all positive. I’m amazed. Just 5 days post-op I am walking with normal gait, (albeit slowly). Next week I will try some biking for range of movement purposes (honest!) and then a little jogging the following week. I promise not to run until I can walk and not ro run before I can bike and not to swim until well after the stiches come out!  I feel like I have turned the page, cliched though it may be,  a new chapter is beginning. If I concentrate on the present and commit myself to rehabbing as best I can then this whole story will end with a return to training and racing. It’s up to me to determine how it’s written. As I pen the text, I will bear in mind those things that this year has taught me: to value my friends and family more than ever; to seek and take opportunities; to be responsible for my own happiness and to find that little bit of gold dust in a sack full of muck!

The 6 week X-ray showed that my arm is still attached to my shoulder
and my clavicle is healing well. Great stuff! With this good news ringing in my
ears I booked a swimming lesson. I had been “swimming” up until this point but decided
that it was time to move from extended bath with one armed antics to extended bath
with two armed antics. Insert here many sweary words. I started off with a right
arm that felt like a wet lettuce. It would enter the water and hang around waiting
for messages from my brain then suddenly kick into action “after a fashion. Ground
Control and Major Tom are not fully communicating: other swimmers beware of my rogue
limb! Last night I ventured to the tri club. Equipped with fins it wasn’t as embarrassing
as it could have been. I lasted 45mins but I am quite disheartened at how much strength
I have lost and by how taxed my poor wee heart and lungs were. Still, you gotta
start somewhere. The plan is that by the time I reach T minus 20 days. I’ll have
amassed some enough strength, fitness and technique in the pool to see me through
another period of rehab.  I’m all signed up for bilateral achilles scraping under local anaesthetic.

Sounds like fun?

Until then I’m enjoying being back on the bike – even escaping outside on two wheels when I can. And, of course, I’ll be trying to rekindle my passion for swimming ;-)

2 weeks down. Another 2 weeks in the sling and 4 weeks until the next X ray.

The good:

• Tooth brushing with left hand mastered (although
  I do have an electric toothbrush).
• Increasing left handed hoover wielding dexterity.
• Alternative social life – been to Edinburgh
  Fringe Festival for the first time.
• Volunteering with charity Winning Scotland
  Foundation (encouraging and enabling young people to take part in physical
  activity).
• Arm chair athlete: purchased tickets for UCI
  world cup cycling in Glasgow in Nov + shouted (constructive) abuse at people during Abrefeldy Half Ironman.
• Legitimate purchase of clothes of the “walk in”
  variety.

The bad:

• Contact lenses out of the question.
• Asking my mum to play mum – but secretly she
  loves it!
• Negotiating public transport with one arm –
  getting exact change ready is almost mission impossible.
• Need a back scratcher.
• It has to be spoonable or eaten with my fingers.

The ugly:

• Asking random people in the pool changing rooms
  to help me dress and undress.
• Floor brushing obsession compulsion hard to
  satisfy -but see above re. hoover dexterity.
• There is a spot on my back that has not been washed for over 2 weeks.
• One armed swimming – not as enjoyable as I had
  anticipated.

And now I think that it is time for 2012 to give me a break! They say that bad luck comes in threes so I am totally over 2012. Can I go to sleep and wake up ready to go on Jan 1st 2013?!Being in rehab meant that for the first time in 10 years I have missed a season of racing. Not one to miss an opportunity Richard and I decided to have an actual summer holiday – with some real summer holiday activities planned. Namely eating good food, catching up with friends and doing some of those things that go on hold when your summer holidays also double up as training camps – hiking, window shopping, and wine  tasting….We packed up the van and headed to the North of Italy. I had never been there before, and I will certainly go back (I have unfinished climbing business). Great food, fabulous weather, wonderful scenery. Spotted a few top potential training camp bases (no – I can’t turn off!). I’d be lying if I said that we were able to lounge in the sun and eat gelato for the whole 3 weeks as, to be quite frank, if people are going to build roads and trails in the Alps and the Dolomites then I am going to darn well bike and “speed” hike. With my lower than usual fitness I certainly paid the muscle burning price for smashing myself up and down endless mountain roads and paths, but didn’t care as the challenge of beating myself up every incline, regardless of whether I was walking (fast) or biking was just too great.

I learnt lots of things on this year’s holiday:

Almost everything can be fixed with duct tape (asides from me, more on that
later). Our van had teething problems and now has go faster duct tape solutions
inside and out!

The Italians have no real road rules asides from every person for themselves.

Italian engineers love tunnels.

Mountains are meant to be accessed by the masses :-)

Italian men hate to be caught and passed on the climbs just as much as the
French, British, and Spanish. (not that I expected any different).

I wasn’t as unfit as I expected, but soon will be (more on that later..)

We had a brilliant holiday, which I am sure will be one of the most memorable in years to come. If not for the sheer fact that we enjoyed ourselves immensely, then for the fact that 3 days before we headed back to Scotland I had an altercation with the tarmac. We met up with friends at Lake Como who recommended the Bormio area of the Alps for some great biking. So off we headed to bag some more Giro climbs. We arrived late in the afternoon and keen the get rid of some van lethargy decided to do a quick out and back ride up the local ski hill. Bormio 2000 – 10ks,7%., 40 something mins later (smashfest). Having waited the standard 6mins at the top for Richard ;-), we descended back down towards the van. About 3k from town I hit a rough patch of road. I didn’t see the bumps in the shade and had no warning, just got thrown from the bike. I landed hard and knew that I had more than gravel rash when my first thought was not the usual “how is the bike?!”. However, I thought that I was more winded and shocked than broken but I was sore enough to ask Richard to go and get the van and drive back up to collect me. When he got back I knew that hospital awaited. This was when some rudimentary Italian knowledge would have been great. Still “ouch” translates well in all languages and so do sweary words! X-rays confirmed that I had broken my clavicle and I was sent packing with a shoulder brace and a sling. So a dampner on the plan to cause some self carnage on the slopes of the Alps. Some unfinished Alpine adventures await next year!

Now back home learning how to be left handed. I’m feeling frsutrated when I have to ask for help dressing, washing and eating. I’ve told Rich that it is
practice for my old age. I have a visit to the fracture clinic next week to see if I am healing according to Mother Nature or if I need surgical intervention.

And the Achilles? Sheesh, I have something else to complain about right now, I’d clean forgotten about them. I have a consultation in Sept in London with regards to surgery. Stay tuned for more news from annus horrbilis!

Over the past 3 years I have been subjected to varying doses
of the following: biomechanical changes; orthotics; soft tissue treatment; high
volume injections; cortisone injections, fascial treatment; collagen
supplements; chicken soup (seriously!); exercises; more exercises; intra
muscular stimulation; bowen therapy; rest; dietary changes; acupuncture, night splints…. and
probably more that I just can’t remember. All in the name of overcoming
bilateral achilles tendinopathy.

In the middle of May I made the decision that I had to get
totally on top of the situation. Seasons have come and gone. I have to face up
to the fact that I am not getting any younger. I’ve been able to manage the
discomfort, squeeze in enough quality training to get some great results and
then break. Usually right in time for Kona. Obviously this is not physically or
mentally optimal. The truth is that as time goes by the severity of the
tendinopathy gets worse and the length of time between flare-ups decreases. And
therein lies the nub – in recent history I have chosen to manage the pain. I
want to train and race and I have been able to do so. I have let my heart rule
my head and in doing so I have become slave to rather than master of my achilles.
I have payed lip service to those who have tried to point me down the road to
long term solutions over short term gain. The clichés and metaphors are endless
and I am by no means the first or the last athlete to plod along this well-worn
but boggy path. I can wax lyrical about wanting to be the best athlete that I
can be and about fulfilling my athletic potential and dreams. But when push
comes to shove why am I finding it so hard to let go of being an athlete and
embark on being in rehab? To an outsider it’s a no-brainer: of course I need to
address the issues. However, to me and many others, training and racing define
one hundred percent of who you are. I live to exercise. I’m the crazy woman on
the bike, running through town and swimming endless laps of the pool. I love my
daily dose of training fuelled endorphins. I love smashing myself. Races are my
opportunity to express this love! Competition and success are positive
affirmations that my dedication to pushing myself and my obsession to reach my
athletic potential is vindicated. I don’t want to give this up. This is how I
see myself and this is how I believe others see me. I want to be the super-fit
crazy woman, I want to race and prove to myself and to others how good I can
be. I want to do myself proud and in doing so make others proud: my friends,
family, supporters and sponsors. I want to inspire and motivate others to set
personal targets and reach goals. It’s a drug. The more I do it, the more I
want. I love the hard work and the effort because I love the moment when I
cross the finish line and I get payback in pride and personal satisfaction -
you can’t put a price tag on that. By making the decision to rehab I have
pulled the plug on all of this. I’ve taken away the things that make me tick
and, in this initial phase I’m feeling kind of lost. My raison d’être is
missing. It feels fraudulent to call myself an athlete. I feel guilty that I am
not racing and representing myself and my sponsors. I feel guilty that I am
emotional and grumpy with my friends and family. I feel guilty that I am not
contributing financially to my household. I am constantly frustrated by my lack
of ability to see the bigger picture and on having such a selfish myopic
mindset. I mean, in all honesty, I’m only injured and it is only sport!!

I’m a month into rehab and still trying to work out exactly
the reasons for my persistent and chronic discomfort. I am likening this
process to untangling the ball of headphones that you find at the back of the
drawer – a time consuming and frustrating task. You think that you are getting
there but often end up in more of a mess than when you began. What I do know is
that there is no silver bullet for this one. It’s going to be a long process of
changing biomechanical patterns that have been active for many years. I am sure
that lots of small percentage gains will add up to form a stable biomechanical
base from which to build pain-free exercise. Occasionally I find it
motivational and exciting to ponder what results may be possible with far more consistent
uninterrupted training. It’s quite the emotional roller-coaster: waking up pain
free can initiate euphoria whilst the slightest twinge can put a real dampener
on my day. I know that it is self-indulgent to feel like this, but sometimes
navel gazing gives you perspective. Essentially it comes down to a bit of
respect. Respect for those who love and care for me. Respect for those who
guide and mentor me and most of all respect for myself. If I value my own
abilities and potential and the advice imparted to me then I will spend as much
time, effort and commitment on rehab as I do on training. What I realise now is
that accepting that I have to rehab is not letting go of being an athlete, it
is part of embracing the challenges of being an athlete. That’s not to say that
I have given up the hope of being hit by a stray silver bullet. So if you have
a spare one going, please pop it in my direction.

It’s almost May. By this point in the season most of you who follow my career as a professional triathlete will be wondering what’s happened to Cat? I’d usually have chalked up a couple of races and this week I’d be heading to St Croix for MY race (!). I’ve known for a while that St Croix was not going to happen this year, but now as race week starts (and looms for many) it’s really only just hitting me on a more emotional level. This may sound a little
shallow – “Why get emotional over a race?”, “Oh Behave”…. I can hear the thoughts as you read this.  Well, for the
first time in four years I’m not getting to see my friends and enjoy the wonderful race and hospitality of the St Croix
people. And this year I need that more than ever. I’ve not been out there training and racing the way I have in previous seasons and I was using the St Croix race as a carrot to motivate me to train harder and to push further. Just going to the race was going to be my reward for all the hard effort, getting to the start line would have been just fine. The reality is that I am looking out the window and it is 8 degrees and raining. Even my bathroom when I am having a shower is not as hot and humid as St Croix!!

So, 2012 has gotten off to a less than auspicious start. And there are a couple of reasons behind this. 2011 ended is the same pattern as 2010 and 2009 with a broken body and bruised mind. My Achilles (both of them)
threw in the towel just before Kona and I came back to the UK determined for a third year to try and get to the bottom of things. To be honest, all I want are functioning lower limbs so that in years to come I can walk in the
hills and run along palm-lined beaches into romantic sunsets. The triathlon malarkey is a by-line!  If only dealing
with injuries were as simple as getting fit where generally speaking, energy and commitment in = results out. I did some homework on what treatments I could have applied to the offending area and I ended up in London
having some quite revolutionary saline injections. These were at the same time impossibly painful and amazingly interesting. To be honest, the best thing that happened was that within 48hrs of the treatment I was waking up in the middle of the night and walking to the bathroom NORMALLY. No crab walk. No old lady hobble.
No pain. I received top marks from the consultant on adhering to the rehab plan and by the end of December I was able to start running again. In fact, I celebrated New Year by running up and down outside my parents’ house for 60 seconds! Progress!! With ongoing guidance from my physios and continuing biomechanical work on my running style I was hopeful that I’d be up and at ‘em in no time. But as I increased the time on my running pegs, the niggling pain returned in my right Achilles and by the middle of February I was on my way back to London and back in the gym giving the evil eye to anyone who looked as if they wanted to get on the elliptical trainer – I mastered a maniacal facial expression intended to convey: “No Siree. This item of gym equipment is mine, ALL
mine. The truth is that I am still racking up hours on that same bl**dy machine, but I’ve made my peace with the beast. It gives me the opportunity to work hard without irritating the Achilles, so that’s good enough for me right now. As the weeks progress I’ve been able to start some jogging and so far so good. The most promisin development has been that, with super amazing biomechanics and movement specialist Joanne Elphinston, we have recently started to investigate the bike as the root of all evil. We’ve assumed that as my Achilles was sore
when I ran, that running was the culprit. However, with a year of changing my running form to its current “acceptable” state, the Achilles are still flaring up. When you start to suffer symptoms of tendonitis after running for only 20mins you start to wonder. The bike is now the focus of some biomechanicsattention. I can already say that I feel more comfortable and less tense during cycling than I have done in years. I know from experience that deeply engrained neural patterns take a while to shift and alter. But right now that’s the light at the end of my injury tunnel. SO, to make a long story short: I’m sore. I have been since October. I’m trying to fix it. It’ll take time. I’m unfit but getting fitter. It’ll also take time. It all adds up to no St Croix and maybe some future “Did Not Starts”. I’m relaxed though. The past few months really haven’t been all about overcoming injury, that evil scourge of all athletes. In fact, injury has given me something different to think about. In December my Dad was diagnosed with late stage brain, spine and lung tumours. He died in February. A life declining and disappearing in such a short time. So much pain and emotion in such a short time. A life lived in such a short time. Grief: the gift that keeps on giving. I know it’s clichéd but I’d happily have two bum Achilles and a happy, healthy Dad. Sadly, those deals don’t exist. But that’s life and it’s sure given me perspective by the bucket load. Value your health and love your friends and family. Nothing hurts more than loss. Tendonitis is a breeze. My body will heal in time. And when that time comes I’ll be back out there racing and making my Dad even more proud of me.

The truth of the matter is that I am emotional about not racing in St Croix because I’m selfish. I’ve
had a rough time and I want to see my friends. I want to see some of the folks who are special to me in my life because they make me feel better. But hey, realising that they mean so much to me makes me feel better too.

Scotland’s very own “Iron Lady”, triathlete and Texas Ironman Champion Catriona Morrison, today (23 January 2012) took the bull by the horns to launch a new sport and healthy activity bursary programme – “Go for It Scotland!”

The new bursary programme, developed by Quality Meat Scotland (QMS), is open to all ages and abilities and will be run annually over the next three years in the lead up to Glasgow 2014.

QMS has been working with sportscotland to develop the programme, which will run alongside the range of activities QMS already undertakes to encourage awareness of the importance of good nutrition and a healthy diet and lifestyle.

Catriona Morrison is fronting the new “Go for It Scotland!” campaign and the petite triathlete  teamed up with Highland bull, Jock of Lyntoun, to launch the new bursary which will see 60 individuals or groups receive sponsorship of £500 over 2012, 2013 and 2014.

Ms Morrison believes the programme will attract applications to fund a wide age- range of activities. As a member of the judging panel, she would also like to see applications from people who may have never considered applying for funding before.

“The “Go for It Scotland!” funding can be used for equipment, specialist clothing, travel, training, nutrition, coaching or to set up or develop a new or existing group or club. Anyone can apply providing they live and train in Scotland and take part in a healthy activity which increases their heart rate,” she said.

“Successful applicants will be asked to share their experiences and ‘chat’ about how the bursary has made a difference to them or their club by contributing to a website blog as well as being a good ambassador for their sport and healthy activity.”

QMS is the public body behind the development of the Scottish red meat industry and the promotion of Scotch Beef, Scotch Lamb and Specially Selected Pork.Jennifer Robertson, a qualified dietitian and QMS’ Health and Education Coordinator, said the bursary programme will be a great extension to the existing activities linked to good health undertaken by the organisation, including free cookery demonstrations in schools.

“We are regularly approached by groups and individuals, from hill walking clubs to high performance athletes, seeking sponsorship. This exciting new bursary will allow us to operate a comprehensive programme of sponsorship over the next three years as part of Scotland’s celebration of sport and healthy living in the run-up to Glasgow 2014.”

Stewart Harris, Chief Executive of sportscotland, also a member of the judging panel, said: “sportscotland is delighted to enter into this partnership with Quality Meat Scotland to support the “Go for It Scotland!” bursary programme. As the national agency for sport, we are passionate about encouraging people to become involved in sporting activities, which is why this new partnership is such a great fit for sportscotland.”

Application forms can be downloaded or sent out on request by telephoning 0131 472 4040. The deadline for submitting applications  is 5pm on Friday 24 February 2012.