This isn't my first marathon and for some people this won't be the first time they read my story but whilst there are women in this world still suffering from abuse then I feel we are still sadly in a world where I have to keep running and I have to keep telling my story. I feel after what I have come through and what I have experienced that I am almost duty bound to help in some way. For me that way has been running...

2 women a week in the UK are killed at the hands of an abusive partner and 1 in 4 women will experience some form of domestic abuse in their lifetime. That means that if you're reading this it is more than likely someone who know, love and care about will ,is or has suffered domestic abuse. For some of you that person you know will be me. 

It's a long time ago now, so long that I in fact don't know the beginning. I can't tell you how things started because I simply do not remember. The clever thing about abuse is that you don't recognise it. It's not one incident or one day that you can pin point and say "that's it, that's the the day it all began", it's a process. A long, cleverly orchestrated and manipulative process that before you realise what's happening it's too late and you're on your knees with no fight left. No self worth, no self belief, no hope and no strength to escape.

I vaguely remember that at first I fought back. I knew that being locked in a house or threatened or told I was stupid or a whore wasn't acceptable. I screamed back guns blazing. But then the constant reign of punches and verbal assaults starts to hurt. They knock you off your feet and your knees start to buckle. You're dizzy and you can't think straight. That's when the blow of doubt comes..."is this actually me". And once that doubt is there, once that parasite is under your skin, you're done for. But you still hope for change. As the punches knock you to the floor and the battle starts to get harder you become to exhausted to get up. All you can do is curl up in a ball on the floor and hope it stops. You can't fight back anymore. You don't know how and it takes all your energy just to keep breathing. As much as it's hope that makes you leave in the end, it is hope for change, for some love and respect, that keeps you there for so long.

For all the things I have forgotten I can recall the names. How I was too fat, stupid, lazy, stuck up and crazy. I can remember how my phone was checked to see who I'd spoken to. I remember having my money taken. I remember having only a handful of clothes I was allowed to wear. I remember only being allowed to eat tinned spaghetti. I remember being so thin it hurt to sit. I remember the hospital trips in ambulances. I remember laying on my living room floor, the room spinning above me, thinking that was it, I was going to die. I was going to die with my baby daughters laid right next to me. But I do not remember how it is that I got there. How all of a sudden this was acceptable to me. It was normal. It was my life.

But that's how it's done. Little pieces of you are taking away, piece by piece until it all comes crumbling down above you. Until you're afraid and weak. And until, most frighteningly you have accepted that this is your worth.

Luckily, I gave birth to my beautiful twin daughters whose worth I knew to be a great deal higher than my own. One thing I do remember is the day that I left. I was in trouble for not ironing some trousers. Some grey trousers. I'd had a screaming phone call at work because I was a stupid, selfish, useless bitch who'd not ironed a grown man's trousers. I returned home to a smashed up flat. A place I knew I couldn't take my daughters back to. A place that I knew would destroy them if I stayed. So I packed a Sainsbury's carrier bag and I left. But I left on my knees.

The process of abuse doesn't end with the leaving. You see it wasn't the first time that I'd left. In some ways it became the start of a whole new battle. Luckily I have a family who stood by me and kept me strong. Some people do not have that blessing. They put a roof over my head, clothes on my back and tried to pick up all those broken little pieces and there were millions of them. I wasn't just broken I was shattered. Obliterated. Because that, all along, had been the goal.

When you leave, you leave in body but not in the mind. There is perhaps a part of my mind that will never quite be able to leave. To have control removed is a scary feeling. You're lost. Daily tasks become the most complicated and daunting experiences. You still fear for the consequences that are no longer coming. I've had panic attacks because I wasn't running to the time I 'should be', I had no clothes of my own for six months and no idea what to buy because I wasn't being told what I was allowed. You have to find yourself somewhere in those broken pieces. 

My story does not end there. I was subjected to harassment and extremely lengthy and costly criminal and civil proceedings. After being subjected to abuse, after leaving, after suffering life altering harassment for two years, after having my ex partner criminally convicted I was taken to civil court where I had to fight for the custody of my children at the cost of many thousands of pounds. I've been called a liar by barristers and judges. I've undergone gruelling two day cross examinations. I have to tell officer after officer intimate and private details about my life, my feelings and my body. It's like been violated over and over again.

My story is long and it's drawn out, it's complicated, repetitive, ridiculous, hard to read, awkward to hear, perhaps at times unbearable but I think it's important to tell. It's important because it illustrates the life altering reality of abuse. And I am one of the lucky ones. You can leave a million times over but still never be free. There's still always a hold somewhere, whether it's in your children, via a legal system, harassment, finances or even in your sleep.

As dark as my story is, somewhere along the way I found a pair of trainers, laced them up and decided to run. It's where I found my strength and myself. It's my escape. It's how I kept my sanity. That's why I choose to run for a charity that saved me. Somewhere in all of this I was put in touch with IDAS, without them I daren't think where I may be. They have supported me through every step of my journey. Unfortunately not once but twice. They helped me with everything from dealing with the police and restraining orders, to safety plans and security to holding my hand when I cried and helping me see that being hit by a man is not ok. Because of them I am who I am today. 

When people hear my story for the first time I often get three responses; but you're so strong", "why didn't you leave sooner" and "well you'd never know it to look at you". I hope that this shows that abuse can happen to anyone. It knows no bounds of class, ethnicity, age, education, career, appearance or attitude. It doesn't matter who you are, it can and does happen. It doesn't mean you're stupid or weak or less of a person because until you're faced with that situation you can never understand.

So I am just one person and this is a very abbreviated version of my story. Sadly there are so many more women, men and children who are suffering in abusive relationships and IDAS need support to help them. Their work it quite honestly invaluable. 

I have been on my knees, I have looked in the mirror and not known myself, I have begged my own parents to section me because I genuinely believed I was mentally ill, my organs have been on the brink of failure, I've been malnourished, humiliated, bruised and exploited. I put my lipstick on, my gloves up and got up. I'm still here.If you're reading this and you're in a relationship you're scared to leave there's always hope. Abuse isn't just black eyes and broken bones, it's verbal, emotional, financial, psychological, sexual. It's the things people can't see. But it's there.

When I run I do it because it saved me, it's where I found my strength. I run because I want to show my girls what you can achieve as a woman, to show them that abuse is not ok, that for all I allowed them to see I am saying 'NO' now, that they are worth better, that I am worth better and that every woman on this earth is worth better. I will run and I will tell my story without an ounce of shame until that day. 

Please show that you feel the same. Your support is vitally needed. I am someone's Mum, sister, daughter, friend, colleague and it could just as easily be someone that you know. If you've got to this point thank you so much for reading and please share my story if you can't sponsor.

Thanks to my amazing family for every single moment of support. My mum for pouring me wine and mopping my tears, my sisters for sharing their clothes when I had nothing but a carrier bag to my name and making me smile again, for being the best possible aunties my little girls could have, my daughters for being the reason I kept breathing, my grandma who has loved all three of us unconditionally and my dad who has helped raise my daughter's, who came to every court hearing and who is everything a man should be. Thanks for picking up the pieces, never questioning me and never once doubting me. Last time I ran for me, to prove I could accomplish something impossible. This time this 26 miles are for you all!!!!

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