Lorrfit

I’m not going to lie… heading into the Cardiff 10k, I felt totally unprepared. I hadn’t run since the London 10k and hadn’t trained one bit. But somehow, despite all of that, I crossed the finish line with a time close to my pre-crash race times, and I can’t explain how happy that made me.

It felt like a tiny breakthrough. Little by little, I’m getting there. My confidence is creeping back, my pace is starting to resemble what it once was, and for a brief moment during the race, I felt like myself again.

But the reality of my ongoing recovery hit hard afterwards. My neck pain was awful! so bad that I had to use my massage gun, take painkillers, and nap just to ease it. It’s frustrating living with this constant pain since the crash. Sometimes I wish I could just go back to “normal,” to run without thinking about how my body will respond afterwards.

With the Cardiff Half Marathon only a month away, my anxiety is definitely bubbling. I can see the progress, but I’m still nervous about how my body will perform during (and after) the race. Still, this 10k reminded me that I am moving forward, even if it’s slow and messy.

Step by step, race by race, I’m clawing my way back. And that feels like a win worth celebrating.

Just a week after the Porthcawl 10k, I was back at it again, this time for the London 10k 2025. And honestly? This one felt different. For the first time since my crash, I experienced that euphoric race feeling I’d been missing.

The vibes were amazing! Crowds lining the streets, the energy of London buzzing all around, the kind of atmosphere that lifts you even when you’re not chasing a PB. I went into this race with zero pressure, fully aware that I’ve been running in pain for a long time now. And because of that, it became about enjoyment, not speed.

At the 5k mark, I even had to make a quick pit stop (yes, I peed) and then headed to the St John’s Ambulance tent for some Vaseline to battle the chub rub (iykyk, girlies). After that, though, I felt great and just let myself soak it all in.

This was also a solo race for me, but I wasn’t really alone. My good friend Amy was there on the sidelines, cheering me on, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciated that support. Friendships like this make races feel even more special.

Crossing the finish line in London felt like a turning point. I wasn’t chasing a time, I wasn’t running from pain, I was running with joy again. And that, to me, is priceless.

Here’s to more euphoric races, more supportive friends, and remembering why I fell in love with running in the first place.

On May 10th, I was in a four-car collision that I can only describe as the most terrifying and stressful experience of my life. I haven’t fully processed it yet — and maybe I won’t for a while — but I wanted to write this not just to share what happened, but to highlight what often gets overlooked: the aftermath.

I was driving on the slip road westbound by the tunnels in Cardiff Bay. The car in front of me suddenly emergency stopped, because the car in front of them had stopped on the dual carriageway to let someone in from the slip road… even though they had the right of way.

I slammed on my brakes and just lightly bumped the taxi in front. It could’ve ended there. But two cars came speeding out of the tunnel behind me — and all they saw was stationary traffic. They hit me at 70mph, twice — once into the right rear of my car, and again into the driver’s side door.

Their airbags deployed.
Mine didn’t.

And somehow, I walked away from that crash.
But not unscathed.

Since that day, I’ve been dealing with daily migraines, whiplash, nightmares, PTSD flashbacks, and a fear of slip roads and cars driving close behind me. I’ve lost my confidence on the road. I feel anxious in places I never did before.

Please, don’t speed in tunnels.
The signs are there for a reason.
Please don’t stop unnecessarily on dual carriageways. If it’s your right of way — take it. Stopping without cause nearly cost lives that day.

I hit my head on the seatbelt panel, and I distinctly remember the feeling — my brain moving inside my skull. I’ve since spoken to medical professionals who confirmed what I felt: “If it felt like it moved, then it did.” Your brain isn’t fixed in place — it floats in fluid. And it’s fragile. So, so fragile.

I’ve come away from this experience with a new perspective on how delicate life is, and how quickly everything can change. I appreciate life more. I appreciate the people who showed up and checked in — and I now know who truly cares.

But it hasn’t just been the crash that’s been hard — it’s everything after:

• Hearing the car I saved to buy myself is now written off.

• Police statements and crash investigations.

• A WalesOnline article about the crash.

• Insurers, car hires, and trying to find a new car in less than two weeks.

• Medical appointments, hospital waiting rooms, therapists, solicitors.

• Missing work.

• The financial pressure of replacing a car when the crash wasn’t even my fault.

I was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

And the emotional toll is real.

I’ve now been told I need to slowly phase back into physical activity. Head trauma isn’t something you bounce back from overnight. It’s been two weeks without fitness — which for someone like me who finds movement essential for mental health, feels unbearable.

But this week I’m easing in with yoga, and later on I’ll reintroduce running — gently, mindfully. I do have the Paris 10k coming up in three weeks with my boyfriend, and while I’m excited, I’m cautious too. He’s been incredibly supportive, reminding me:

“Health comes before medals — always.”

** Just wanted to add that I am incredibly thankful, grateful to the people who have supported me during this time. Especially to my dad, who has helped me throughout this process and the admin of the aftermath, that’s all new and alien to me. His support has meant the world to me, and I honestly don’t know where I’d be during this whole process without him.

So I’m taking it one day at a time. Healing doesn’t follow a straight line. If you’ve ever been through a traumatic accident, please know that it’s not just okay, but necessary, to ask for help. To feel it all. To go slow.

And if you’re reading this — thank you. Whether it’s to be informed, to feel less alone, or to remember to slow down behind the wheel — I hope it helps. ❤️

Stay safe. Slow down. Life is precious.
– Lorr x

I can officially say… I’ve completed my Gold Duke of Edinburgh’s Award! And to top it all off, I had the absolute honour of being invited to Buckingham Palace for the Gold Award ceremony. I still can’t quite believe it! After 18 months of hard work, commitment, and pushing myself beyond my limits, I stood in the gardens of the Palace and met Prince Edward, the King’s brother, to celebrate the journey I’ve been on.

What a journey it’s been.

Here’s a look at what went into achieving my Gold Award:

🎓 Skills Section
I started by doing a Propaganda and Persuasion course at Cardiff University, diving into the world of communication, influence, and media. From that, I created the blog that you can read here! What started as part of the award has become something I truly love—and I’ve continued writing ever since.

🏃‍♀️ Physical Section
My physical section began with running an hour a week… which quickly spiralled into a full-on love for running! I entered events like the Cardiff Half Marathon, Paris 10k, London 10k, and the Run 4 Wales 10k Series. What began as a requirement turned into a lifestyle—and now, a big part of who I am.

🏕️ Residential Section
I volunteered with the Urdd at Llangrannog, supporting children aged 8–12 while brushing up on my Welsh. It was such a rewarding week, and I even met my now best friend, Lilly, who was there as a volunteer teacher. The memories and connections from that trip will stay with me forever.

🥾 Expedition Section
This was brutal but unforgettable. I completed both the practice and qualifying expeditions in the Brecon Beacons as part of a team of five. Over four days, we covered 68km (42 miles), from Lakeside Llangors to Fairfield Abergavenny—through rain, wind, and two thunderstorms.

Despite one teammate’s boots falling apart and another’s bag breaking, we supported each other through every step. I camped for three nights, all while recovering from wisdom tooth surgery just two days before, dealing with 7 blisters, bruises, insect bites, a splinter, and even lost feeling in my right pinky toe. And yes—we saved a lamb that had gotten stuck in a fence! 🐑

The expedition tested me in every possible way, but I came out stronger, more resilient, and full of pride.

🌟 Volunteering Section
I volunteered for a year with a Guiding group in Ynysmaerdy, working with girls aged 9–12. I helped plan sessions, run workshops, and support the next generation of young women. It was such a meaningful experience to be part of their journeys too.

Just two days before the Buckingham Palace ceremony, I was involved in a four-car accident—something that’s still shaken me up. I’m dealing with the aftermath, sorting out insurance and finding a new car, but despite all that chaos… I still showed up at the Palace, stood tall, and celebrated this huge achievement.

I’m incredibly grateful to Girlguiding Cymru for their support throughout my DofE journey. This experience has been life-changing—from building confidence and resilience to discovering my passions and learning what I’m truly capable of.

Through every ache, challenge, and unexpected twist, I kept going. And now, I’ve finished my Gold Award.

From muddy boots and bruises to a dress at the Palace—I did it. 👑✨

This week, I rolled up my sleeve and donated blood with the Welsh Blood Service — something that’s become incredibly close to my heart. Every time I do it, I’m reminded of just how powerful and life-changing a single act can be.

One blood donation can save up to three lives. That’s three people who get more time, more chances, more hope — all from a simple appointment that takes less than an hour. For me, it’s personal. Blood donation has made a real difference in my life and my family’s story, and I’ve seen first-hand how important it is.

I’m currently running the Cardiff Half Marathon in support of the Welsh Blood Service, but I’m not asking for money — I’m asking for something even more meaningful:

👉 If you’re able to, please consider booking a blood donation.
And if you do, I’d be so grateful if you booked through my personal link so I can see the difference we’re making together:

🔗 DONATE HERE: https://wbs.wales/RunningC

Together, we can do something small that means the world to someone else. If you’ve never donated before, now is a great time to start. And if you’re a regular donor — thank you. You’re a hero, truly. 🩸

Let’s save some lives. 💪

I can’t quite believe I’m saying this—but I’m doing the Cardiff Half Marathon again this year. After what happened last time, it’s honestly a huge step, and not one I’m taking lightly.

Last year’s race ended with me in the medical tent and then a wheelchair, after pushing through the final kilometres with a hamstring injury that turned out to be more serious than I realised at the time. I couldn’t walk properly for weeks afterwards, and I’ve been in rehab ever since—still going to physio regularly and building myself back up, bit by bit.

So yes, I’m nervous. Really nervous. It’s hard not to replay those moments in my head, especially knowing how much of a physical and emotional toll that race took on me. But something in me knows I need to come back—not just to face the fear, but to reclaim that finish line in my own way.

This year, I’m proud to be running the Cardiff Half Marathon Run 4 Wales in support of the Welsh Blood Service.

I’m not asking for sponsorship or financial donations — instead, I’m asking something even more meaningful: if you’re able to, please consider donating blood.

One donation can save up to three lives. It certainly made a difference to mine.

🩸 If you do choose to donate, I’d be really grateful if you could book through my personal link so I can see the impact we’re making together:
👉 https://wbs.wales/RunningC

💬 Curious about why this cause means so much to me? You can hear my family’s story here:
🎥  Everyday Heroes

This race is personal in more ways than one. It’s about recovery, resilience, and running for something bigger than myself. Thank you so much for reading — and even more so if you’re able to give. Every drop really does matter. 🩸

This weekend, I completed my first 10k race back since my injury—and I couldn’t have asked for a better place to do it than at the Newport 10k! Honestly, leading up to the race, I was nervous. The fear of re-injuring myself was definitely in the back of my mind, and it took a lot of mental strength just to get to the start line.

But once I got going, I quickly realised how far I’ve come. I could feel real improvement and strength back in my legs—something I wasn’t sure I’d ever fully get back during those tough recovery months. That being said, I’m also aware that there’s still work to do. I’m still attending physiotherapy sessions regularly, and I know this journey isn’t finished yet.

Crossing that finish line meant more to me than just completing another race—it symbolised resilience, patience, and the slow but steady progress that’s brought me back to doing what I love. I’m proud of how I handled the race, and even more excited for what’s ahead. The comeback is definitely underway!

I’m officially signed up for the London 10k again, and I won’t lie—I’m a little nervous about this one! Last year, this was the race where I picked up my hamstring injury, the one that forced me to take time off, cancel races, and rethink my entire approach to training. So, coming back to this event feels like a bit of a mental and physical test.

But she’s still doing it! 💪

I refuse to let last year’s setback define my experience with this race. London had such an incredible atmosphere, and I remember loving every moment up until that sharp corner where things went wrong. This time, I’ll be running smarter, pacing myself properly, and (hopefully) finishing strong and injury-free.

There’s something really powerful about returning to a race that once challenged you. It’s a chance to prove to myself how much stronger and wiser I’ve become since then. So, while the nerves are definitely there, the excitement is even greater. London, I’m ready for round two—let’s do this! 🏅🔥

I’m beyond excited to announce that I’ll be running the Paris 10k again on June 8th, 2025! This race holds such a special place in my heart—the atmosphere, the energy, and the incredible city backdrop made it an unforgettable experience last time. So, the moment I had the chance to do it again, I didn’t hesitate!

After everything I’ve been through with my injury and recovery, this race feels even more significant. It’s a chance to return stronger, to run without pain, and to truly enjoy every moment of it. Paris brings a unique kind of magic on race day, and I can’t wait to soak up the vibes, push my pace, and see how far I’ve come since my last 10k there.

Between now and June, my focus is on building strength, staying injury-free, and preparing to give it my all. I know this race is going to be something special, and I’m counting down the days until I’m back running through the beautiful streets of Paris. Let’s do this! 🏅✨

I did it—I completed my first half marathon at the Cardiff Half! It’s hard to put into words how surreal it feels to say that, especially given the rollercoaster of emotions and challenges leading up to the race. I was incredibly nervous at the start, knowing I was running with a Grade 1 hamstring injury. Taking a full month off from running and having to cancel two races in Swansea just to rest had shaken my confidence. Still, I was determined to cross that finish line, injury or not.

The first part of the race went surprisingly well. The atmosphere was electric, and the support from the crowds gave me a huge boost. But once I hit the 18k mark, the real test began. The pain flared up, and every step was a mental and physical struggle. I had to dig deep and rely on sheer willpower to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Crossing the finish line was an overwhelming mix of relief, pride, and pure exhaustion. I ended up in the medical tent afterward, wheeled there in a chair as my body finally gave in. But despite the pain and the aftermath, I can say confidently: I did it. I ran a half marathon. Even in those tough moments, it felt worth it, and I’m already dreaming about doing it again—this time without an injury. I’d love to see what my true pace could be, unhindered by pain.

For now, though, it’s time to heal. I’ll be taking another month off from running and getting some proper medical care. The break will be hard, especially since I never imagined running would impact my mental health as much as it does. The longing to be back out there, feeling the rhythm of the run, is strong. But I know that with patience and the right recovery, I’ll come back stronger. Slowly but surely, I’ll return to running, and I’m already looking forward to the day I can lace up my shoes and run pain-free again.

For now, I’m holding onto the pride of having completed my first half marathon—and the knowledge that there are plenty more miles waiting for me once I’m mended.