Maybe it’s the onset of the colder weather, but I’ve suddenly stopped waking instinctively at 6am. Again today, I didn’t see the light until nearly 7:30, when all thoughts of an early run had to be shovelled out of sight.
Instead I had my first night-time outing for a long time. Not just dark but fairly cool. I can’t think how long it’s been since I ran in these conditions, not being able to see where I was putting my feet.
It felt pretty good. I think I have to rediscover running; to relearn the basics and find the real joy of it all again. We all say it’s important to have a goal. Typically, that goal is a race, or a personal best time over a distance. Perhaps that’s become a stale, and self-defeating way of thinking for me. I need to tilt that orbit and start again. My goal must be to find out how to enjoy this properly once more.
But did I ever really enjoy running? I’ve always enjoyed having run. Finishing a race — even (or perhaps especially) — if you’re a plodder like me, is a marvellous feeling. It’s great to look back over a period of runs and feel some sense of achievement. BUT. But, have I ever truly enjoyed the act of running while it’s happening?
The answer is yes, I have, but only quite rarely. Time to deal with this, I think.
