You know you’re procrastinating your run when you find yourself playing Minesweeper – yes, Minesweeper! – after shooting off a few early morning emails. However, I knew I needed to run today: needed it body and mind; so I pulled on my jogging clothes and braved the cold, damp weather.
The first kilometre my muscles were creaking like a car I owned years ago, an ancient Toyota who’d whinge and whine, choke and snuffle for the first hour of a winter’s day, but would always get me there in the end. Paradoxically, at the same time that my body was crying out “Go back to bed! Or at least go back into the warmth and have another cup of tea!” it was also springing ahead. I think, in some sense, my body knew how much I needed today’s run.
So I persisted – putting one foot after another, assiduously breathing ‘in through the nose, out through the mouth’ to avoid the shock of cold air hitting my windpipe as I pounded along the grey pavements. After the first kilometre, I began to feel better. Perhaps it was the sight of a young man walking in the opposite direction, playing his acoustic guitar and singing. (Had I ever dropped acid in my life I would have assumed this extraordinary sight was some form of flashback ...)
Once my body was on-side, so to speak, limbered up and stretching out and beginning to fly across the blocks, my mind was free to begin enjoying itself. I hadn’t yet achieved zen-running-state, but with my body managing itself, my brain could look back over the last few days and remember ... assimilate ... absorb.
I began to feel angry. My husband and I have some things to be angry about at present; this is not the place to air those grievances, beyond saying that the world can indeed be a cruel and unjust place. (Foot-pound) How dare people speak to me like that? (Pound) How dare people treat my husband like that? (Pound) We are good people; (Pound) how can these things be happening to us?
I look around; I’m farther along than I’d expected by this time, and see that I’ve sailed up a hill without noticing. Interesting; I had thought today’s run would be more about pacing out the kilometres rather than aiming for a PB.
Sailing down the other side, I notice the trees, breathe the air, begin to feel the endorphin rush. I’m happy I’m here, glad to have the freedom to be able to do this.
I enter the local botanic gardens and begin a series of hill runs, ranging from long-but-shallow to short-but-very steep. The adrenaline rush of my anger lends wings to my feet. I feel a moment of concern: I haven’t done this run for over a week; should I have stretched before setting out? Fuck it, this is just feeling so damned good, I just don’t care.
Rounding a bend, I can see much of Melbourne stretched out to the west. All those people: how many are feeling as angry as I was a few minutes ago? How many are feeling that life is unfair, that we suffer more than we deserve? And on the other hand: how many are free to do what I’m doing right now, taking an hour of my day to simply run and enjoy it?
Today is the day I loop around to take a look at this mysterious artefact: two poles placed on the ground and surrounded by a black cage, topped with barbed wire. It looks just as mysterious close up, and there’s nothing to explain its purpose. Weird.
Great – the hardest part of this run is behind me. I’m flying down the hill, sticking to the gravelled side of the path for traction. My breathing is even, my legs are stretching out; this is joy.
Have a long wait, again, at the lights to cross the highway– major buzzkill –the second time today. Mild bummer; can feel my heartrate plummeting as I wait for the signal.
There’s one last, deceptive hill before I reach home. Running up it, I start to feel anxious again. When I get home, this little bubble of running-joy will break and I’ll be back in the real world.
But I feel the ground beneath my feet, feel my breath flowing in-and-out, my heart beating soundly within my chest. I am. I am strong. I can take whatever today throws at me.
Finish the run in style, sprinting to the front door. Am very surprised to see I’ve shaved three minutes of my previous PB for this route! And that shower is going to feel fantastic. Endorphin rush; elation. All is well.
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