A Running Rebirth.


Yesterday’s run in the great outdoors couldn’t have happened at a better time for me. My usually indefatigable running mojo seems to have gone into hibernation. Maybe it’s been all those soul destroying treadmill runs I’ve been doing. Watching the red numbers flash in front of me (the time counter never seems to change over as fast as the speed or gradient ones), the noise of the motor and the heavy sound of my feet on the conveyor belt to nowhere … is it any wonder I cheat myself and shave a few minutes off my workout here and there?

Not a bad view on the home stretch of yesterday’s run.

I was a different runner on the open road yesterday evening. Time flew by. The 15 minutes (aka the golden 15.00 on the treadmill) it takes every ounce of motivation to complete at the gym came and went without me feeling anything but the desire to keep going. I’m not sure what my speeds were like but I felt like I was maintaining a clipping pace. The sound of my feet hitting the pavement was comforting and lulled me into that ‘can do, keep going’ state of mindful serenity that sees you rack up kilometres without really noticing it.

 

Instead of being drenched in swear from head to toe, outdoor runs leave me with a glow and the slightest sheen on my face (it’s all relative). While gym running leaves me with a sense of achievement at hitting particular speeds and times, it’s a rather solitary experience. Running in the real world has the added diamension of engaging all my senses whilst completing my cardio for the day.

 

 

 

I don’t know if it truly was a spiritual experience but running through the streets of my childhood was definitely like being in my very own ‘This Is Your Life’ montage. Familiar houses and businesses sped past me and I half expected the faces from so long ago to pop out from the front doors too. The trademark red floored front patios and pruned rose bushes are harder to spot these days but those wide, symmetrically aligned streets with their tree lined paths haven’t changed one bit.

 

The mansions over in the fancy bit of the suburb haven’t lost their quietly imposing presence and the mystery I felt always shrouded their occupants still remains. I don’t think I ever saw a person leave or enter any of the immaculately landscaped compounds, let alone seeing someone do the wheelie bin or letterbox dash in their pyjamas….

Hope you’re having a great Monday. I’ve got nothing in particular to do right now except a load of washing.

 

Until next time!

 


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