I ran obediently according to a programme for eight weeks and then stopped running altogether. I’ve been dancing loads (as in three hours per day) and suffering from injuries old and new, and stressing about deadlines. Running just wasn’t in the cards – until today. I wanted to get out there, to see what it would feel like to run wherever I wanted to, for as long as I wanted to, in the little bit of sunshine that the forecast predicted for late afternoon. Insert George Michael belting out “Freedom” here.
(Got the tune in your head? Good. If not, you’re obviously too young and should stop reading and go do whatever it is that you young people do. You know, young things.)
I set out for a nice, ease-myself-back-into-it kind of run. Instead, I ended up trying out new paths, getting not lost but further than I thought I would, and ran for 48+ minutes non-stop. After not running at all for a couple of weeks and a two-hour social dance class last night (calves = pain), it was…a bit much. Not impossible, but it wished I’d worn better socks and had better-fitting shoes. And more capable lungs. And muscles. Okay so it wasn’t brilliant. But the park was a lot greener that a few weeks ago. There was sun. And nature.
Fauna: a rabbit, a herd of red deer with antlers (gods they’re big close up), a herd of red and fallow deer without antlers, a swan couple with three chicks, a great crested grebe, a coot, crows, a pair of tourists on the wrong side of the park asking for directions to the cafe.
At least running was good for the brain. There’s nothing like a social dance class with constant rotating of partners to make you realise that you do not, in fact, come from a culture of small talk. I keep interpreting the non-questions as real questions and then trying to actually answer them and realise I shouldn’t and blurt out something nonsensical, repeat ad nauseam. It’s a right old brainfuck.