There was considerable indecision. With storm warnings all over the forecast, I’d never envisaged running today, but as midday approached the weather was palpably perfect: bright sunshine and calm. I looked at tomorrow’s prognosis, which was less inviting. What to do? I dithered.
At first, I just sat down and decided to look through the NRC guided runs. I’d only tried one of these, the first of the ones with Headspace. Again I gravitated to the mindful collection, and another session with Chris Bennett and Andy Puddicome caught my attention: a 25-minute ‘Not Motivated Run’. It was then that a force summoned me to change into my kit and warmup. I’ll go for a short gentle run before lunch, I thought, just to enjoy the winter sunshine. I was very motivated (by the unexpected turn in the weather, and by the simple thrill of spontaneity) but decided I still wanted to listen to the ‘Not Motivated Run’ podcast.
On my warmup walk, I took the direction of the destination park, but - yet more equivocation - changed my mind at the end of the street and headed to my original running venue park, a couple of circuits of which would be perfect for 25 minutes. I practised some breathing work. Arriving at the park, I was immediately struck by the huge puddles everywhere and the debris of twigs that it was necessary to dance through. Clearly I’d slept through a storm overnight. The water reflected the sky in a dazzling patchwork.
I started my podcast. The first insight was that I’d overcome the biggest hurdle already (Bennett), because I was out and had started; the next lesson (Puddicome) was to ditch the whole binary of motivation versus no-motivation (this is just life, no big deal, it’s what you do with that that counts). So, I engaged with the exercises set by AP. For my visualisation I imagined myself running more lightly, more easily and gazelle-y. 💭💭🦌
On the first leg I found myself running directly into the sun. For a stretch the railings separating the railway strobed an intense light into my eyes; it was a relief to escape it. On another stretch, four crows were tumbling together. At the end of the first loop I did a 360, to do the circuit in reverse and avoid the strobe. Most of the way around, I took another impromptu decision: what if I explore that street over there? I left the park and ran along a road I’d never been on, and thence along one I knew but had never ran. Sparrows squabbled in some garden bushes. The podcast finished, and, as suggested, I celebrated my achievement and reflected. I was definitely feeling more gazelle-y.🦌🦌🦌
I realised that I hadn’t made a photo. It was a good day for a photo but I was not in a good spot for one. Still, I was coming close to a path that could return me to the park. Back there, I took a few snaps, jogging between them, imagining I was winding down. However, the road alongside the park offered even more startling vistas: the filigree of branches against the sky, and seed pods like Christmas baubles. I explored a few side streets, one a dead-end to a building site but where five magpies were scavenging from a discarded takeaway. My approach scattered them. I felt a bit sorry for disturbing their feast, but knew they’d be back as soon as I’d left.
Returning to the corner of the park which marks the transition to the 5-minute homeward walk, I decided first to run along the street that had been part of last week’s nighttime nemesis. I don’t know why exactly - maybe I just wanted to exorcise the negative associations. At the end of this street, I was not in a good spot for my 5-minute cool-down, and didn’t fancy marching up and down my own road to compensate. However, I was in easy reach of the little street orchard, which is perfectly gauged. And so it was that I did my first 6k (albeit with some photo pauses). 6.11km; 51.01 minutes. I had deliberately tried to go slow, but the tech indicates that (removing the stop-and-start photo section) I had run much of this at some of my fastest times. 😁