Free as in just me, my running kit and the early evening.
I'd been almost dreading this one. After graduating on Sunday, I wondered whether I'd be able to maintain the discipline of running. A number of options had run through my mind, all somewhat compromised by the quickly darkening evenings, a bit of a niggle in the back of my thigh (a remnant from drunkenly doing the splits at Christmas a couple of years ago while trying to impress my daughter's with my ballet skills. The fact that I was in long johns at the time and my hamstring giving way with an audible "pop"didn't help. None of us could stand-me due to a mixture of laughter and well deserved agony, my wife and daughters simply due to laughter...)
As a result a 2 day break. Home tonight from work. 5.50. Going to run. Phone battery dead-would take too long to charge. Changed-ready to go.
Let's leave the phone at home. Mr J gas said goodbye so it's time to spread those disappearing Bingo wings and set off into the night.
Time check. 6.11 pm. On to the roads (for the first time-normally run in local playing fields). Reach the playing fields. Dodge the pot holes that I can just about make out in the dying light. Reach the local Beefeater (restaurant not strangely dressed hedge lurker) and back onto the pavements again.
I have no idea of time. It's very liberating. I have a course that I guesstimate to be in the region of 5k. But firstly I'm sure my pace is quicker than usual (because I'm not glued to the time checks or even the usual running soundtrack). Secondly my breathing is outrageously easy. As the youth would say-WTAF.
And then, before I know it, onto the home straight. Back in the house-"what's the time?". "where have you been? It's 6.56-we we're about to come out and look for you!"
45 minutes. And not out of puff. And no breathers-could have held a conversation all the way round. T Shirt soaked (combination of drizzle and good honest sweat). Hair all over the place. And a MASSIVE goofy grin. Because that is by far the best run I have ever had. Just me, my kit and the road. And the drizzle-beautiful beautiful drizzle.
I keep having to pinch myself about this. In the middle of August I couldn't run for a minute without feeling like I was about to keel over. The clocks haven't gone back yet and I have almost certainly run 6k plus (not measured it yet, but I know my pacing and how far I was running on grass-I am undeniably quicker on tarmac). I hesitate to use the word outrageous, but, bloody hell. And when I finished I could easily have carried on, even to the hour mark.
To those of you at the start of this adventure. Keep with it. You are amazing and you have taken the best step ever just by getting out there and doing it.
I'm 56. I'm 17 stone plus. I have done no sport for four or five years (odd bit of walking football aside). And I'm a runner. And so are you.