Some thoughts on running

I went running this morning, something I haven't done since August last year. That last run had been just before the trip up to Edinburgh, a sort of sickly sun poking through the clouds, but a cold wind definitely heralding the wintery apocalypse we only now seem to be escaping. 

I got quite good at running for a bit last year. I was doing maybe 25 minutes three times a week, and I was starting to enjoy it, kind of. The last half was never nice, as I turned round at Victoria Park and headed home, knowing a stitch and a stumble on Roman Road were likely, and that a little negative thought entering my mind could end it all prematurely.

One of the best, and perhaps only, incidents to happen to me whilst my running fad last year was the time that an old woman stopped me in the street. I tried to do a sprinty section right towards the end (although, it's weird, how after a longish run, when you sprint you can't really feel your legs sprinting like you would if you sprinted from the outset, though your mind tells you otherwise) and just as I was finishing it off, this old woman appeared from nowhere in front of me. She flagged me down. In her hand she held out a jar of Marmalade and asked me to open it. I did, the lid coming off with a pop. She was pleased and said something kindly and old-east-end- womany and went back in the house. I walked back to my home feeling like I'd done something useful, and kind, for once.

And that's the best thing about running, and concentrated exercise, really. It's the high afterwards, not really the looking in the mirror bit. It's the sweat on your back and in your hair that says a job well done. The work I do in my day to day life rarely has immediate satisfactory results, where one can stand back and be pleased that the effort was worth it, actually see it or feel it, like a builder or maybe a doctor. But with running the results are there pretty quickly. Your mental alacrity is heightened, limbs ache but pleasurably, breathing is somehow easier, more controlled, less shallow.

The run today with Kate was hard. I had to stop and fast-walk occasionally. I had to divert my mind from thinking too much about stopping. I don't have much confidence in my stamina. I recited Morrissey lyrics, watched ducks, considered the gravel, concentrated on occasional dogs. I'm not sure I totally enjoyed it, but the sun was beautiful and soon I was hot and panting. 

And then, the endorphin rush comes, the focus and clarity builds, the salty taste of sweat in the shower pleases. 

Last night I drank four bottles of beer, ate two massive fatijas, and 1/3 of a tub of Ben and Jerry's. The sluggishness has gone, and suddenly I could eat it all again.