Today has contained a whole heap of crying. This is likely to have something to do with the fact that it’s also contained some babies and small children, and quite a lot of emotions. It’s been a mixed bag. The main conclusion: crying is by no means necessarily a bad thing.

I started the day with the much anticipated Brighton Marathon 10K run. Well, much anticipated by me. I signed up for this (thank God) after thinking better of my original plan to sign up for the full marathon. Really, that was the best decision ever. I mean, can you imagine? I’d still be plodding round now, 10 hours later. My first slight error was to leave it a bit late to set off in the morning, meaning that I had to pretty much sprint the 5K to the start line, and arrived slightly sweaty and panting before the race had even kicked off. Amazingly, neither this, nor the queue for the toilets, actually made me cry. What did lead to a few tears, however, was reading the messages on the backs of all the runners in front of me as we queued to start the race. So many people have dealt with so much. And all those people have got back up and are literally putting one foot in front of the other. And pretty damn quickly. Seriously impressive.

I was running for Cancer Research. You know, after all the benefit I’ve had from my treatment over the last couple of years. Saving my life and everything. There might have been people behind me thinking the same as I was thinking about the ones in front. If I’d remembered to write anything on my back, that is. Oh well. Anyway. So, I ran the race. Actually enjoyed it. Didn’t do too badly. Didn’t break down at any point due to pain, despair or fatigue. And finishing was a real watershed moment. That was the emotional bit. Signing up for a 10K after my cancer treatment had become a bit of a mental blocker. I used to love doing them before, and I was a bit worried that they’d be so much harder now that I wouldn’t enjoy them any more. And that would feel like something that cancer had taken away from me. So for quite a while, I didn’t risk trying. So that’s another hurdle over. I was slower, but I did it, and I enjoyed it. Also, there was a free pint at the end.

Other crying came from a three-year-old who was very effectively diverted by a spot of baking (a very good rhubarb crumble – she’ll probably enter Masterchef next year), and a one-month-old, who can be excused just by dint of being a one-month-old.

Achievements, heartwarming stories, free beer, children, cuddles and crumble. A mixed bag, and definitely a goodie bag of a day.