#REDLent – forty days (or possibly nights) of running in a good
cause ….

It was one of those 5.30am thoughts – the ones that by 6am have stuck and by 7.30am have become an actual thing.  I woke up this morning ready to go out on week 6/day 3 of my current attempt at couch-to-5k; and before I’d got as far as the first toe out from under the duvet my brain had decided, without consulting my body, that it would be a really good thing to run every day in Lent.*

There are some obvious inspirations for this.  Firstly, two of my colleagues, Tom and Clare, are both runners and regularly (unwittingly) nudge me to get my trainers on and move at something faster than a walking pace. Tom does #REDJanuary every year. Clare is just getting to the end of her own challenge, #REDFebruary (she very wisely chose the shortest month of the twelve, albeit in a Leap Year.)

Secondly, it’s Lent. It was Ash Wednesday yesterday, the start of a period that for more than two thousand years** has been a time of
self-denial and self-challenge for hundreds of thousands of people around the world.  Forty days and forty nights in the wilderness, giving up chocolate and being nice to others, all that sort of thing. 

And Lent has a nice neat deadline – Easter.  Six weeks away.  Two weeks longer than any month of the year.  Brain, are you stupid or what??

The next thing was to decide how best to use this daft
idea.  There’s no question that I’d have to turn it into a fundraiser – self-motivation is all well and good, but why waste a good opportunity to lever a few quid out of other people for a good cause?  The big question was which good cause.  Like most people I have particular charities that I lean towards because of family circumstances and previous experiences; and now that I work in the voluntary sector myself I know only too well of the need for funds experienced by every charity, especially the smaller, less familiar, ones.

But I couldn’t quite decide where my efforts could best be focused – until I started running.  And as I pounded the streets*** reflecting on what I had already committed myself to, and why, I knew that this particular effort had to go to the benefit of people who have survived childhood sexual abuse, and in particular those that were abused within the particular environment of the church.

Why this particular issue? 
Like most women I’ve had my #MeToo moments over the years, but I’ve been fortunate that those were never occasions of serious physical abuse, nor in the context of a relationship that should be as utterly full of integrity as that with a priest or spiritual mentor.  

But by a combination of different circumstances in recent months I’ve found myself in conversations about this issue with various people who, in different ways, are involved with church life (including the impressive Bishop Pete of Sheffield, and two semi-retired priest friends from my village, Jane and Geoff). 

I watched the devastating programmes about Peter Ball, one-time bishop, and the terrible abuses he committed against young men in his community, and I was deeply impressed by the courage of those survivors who have worked so tirelessly to bring the church to a realisation of the depths of its failings. 

A couple of weeks ago Jane preached one of the most powerful sermons I've ever heard confronting the pain and damage caused by abuse within the church, and the multiple failures of the church to respond properly. 

And I know that there is a deep pain now within the church community at the hurt that has been caused, and a real recognition of the need to undergo a process of reparation and, ultimately, healing. 

Which is actually what Lent is all about, really. 

So:  I’m going to run a bit every day in Lent, and I’m going ask everyone I know to support me in that by chucking a few quid into the pot for NAPAC, the National Association of People Abused in Childhood.

I've set a target of £400.  That's quite ambitious for something like this; but it's a tenner a day for forty days.  Or a tenner each for forty people.  Let's see how that goes.

On the principle of getting my excuses in early, I should mention a couple of things. 

My work means that I often leave the house before 7am and don’t get back till late evening.  I’m not going to commit to exactly how far I’m going to run every day, or for how long, but I promise that every day I will put on my trainers and run somewhere, for a bit. 

I live in the middle of the Peak District.  ‘Peak’ is the operative word – there is only one route I can take from my front door that doesn’t hit a major hill within the first few hundred yards, and even that one does get to a pretty steep incline within the first mile.  So when I put a tracker up to prove that I’ve done some of what I’ve said I’ll do, don’t be surprised if it’s the same route every time.

Also, it’s February, we’ve had two major storms this month so far and my village has rivers running either side of it.  This morning there was snow on the ground. So that’s also the only route currently
available that isn’t either under six feet of mud or six inches of water.  Maybe by the time I get to Good Friday I’ll be able to vary things a bit. 

And I’m not even going to mention the state of my knees.  Really, I’m actually not. 

So.  Wish me luck.  Spare a few pennies if you can, and if you can’t, just send me some good vibes. It’s hardly climbing Mount Everest, and it is nothing compared to the daily journey of challenge and survival undertaken by those supported every day by NAPAC.  But it’s undertaken with a good heart and an honest commitment, and I’ll be glad of your goodwill.  Thank you.

*Technically, Lent started yesterday.  So sue me.

** I'm not a biblical scholar.  Don't quote me on this.

*** Jogged slowly along the lane through the village