Of all the excuses for not running, “I’m too busy” seems the least convincing. It’s when things are at their most chaotic that an hour of solitude is worth most.
Solitude isn’t the same as loneliness, and isn’t the same as isolation. For me, it’s a time of peaceful, almost meditative disconnection from the chaos of everyday life.
Maybe it’s not a time at all, but something more akin to a place. Running is another country, a self-defined territory with a population of one — or one thousand. It’s up to you. It’s a state all on its own: a state of mind, and you are the sovereign. King and slave handcuffed; panting escapees from the asylum. It’s your world.
You don’t have to be physically alone to experience this liberating state. It still works when you run with others. Even while you’re talking to them. I can’t call it an imaginary world, because it’s real enough. Just not physical. It’s a portable, metaphysical universe. When you’re done with it, you can scrunch it up and push it into your running shoes, ready for the next time out.
Just a short plod with the local running club to report. Only 3.5 miles, but hilly and testing. I needed the break, and benefited from it. Things are crazy at the moment. Popping out for a run was like taking a brief holiday from the madness of the day.
Phew.
