On Running

I love running.

I’m not a typical runner though. I do my own thing with it- I get overtaken often, by those willowy types who make it look really comfortable and haven’t even broken a sweat. (There’s a lot of them where I live!)

There are some occasions where I really struggle; my lungs smart, my stomach hurts, my legs ache and my butt muscles are utterly raging with me!

However, there are so many other occasions where I am in my element: it’s my freedom, my go-to; my tonic.

In actual fact, I have become really irritating with it! I can’t help but extoll the virtues of running to people I know, who would rather poke their own eyes out than go for a run. I’m like a horrible teenager who’s just met some grubby, long-haired young upstart who’s really cool because he plays in a band & wears trainers with cords (“OMG, he actually reads Ted Hughes’ poetry, FOR PLEASURE!”)...

Yes sadly, I think I’ve just realised that I’ve become that annoying!

But seriously, in defence of running (& every form of exercise, I guess) it’s that one activity where I can really exist in the moment; I’m not wallowing in the past and looking back over it with woeful hindsight, nor am I peeping wistfully, round a corner (Tom and Jerry style). During those moments, it’s me, the rhythm of my breathing, the placement of my feet & the surroundings I’m so lucky to be able to consume on my way.

So, I think it’s safe to say that this relationship will not be a shallow fling- one which is based on hair length, band participation or poetry inclinations.

This is a relationship that’s built to last because I’ve worked carefully on it and I’ve built it up over time and (most importantly) I’m enthused by it: running breathes life into me and I can’t see me losing interest any time soon.