I’m sure that people start writing blogs (or anything else for that matter) for any number of reasons, but for me it was to create a cyclical pressure to both write and run. I want to write, so I have to run, even on mornings when I don’t want to, in order to have something to write about, even on days where I don’t feel like it. Shall I give you a moment to absorb that?
Today was one of those mornings where, having returned to a warm bed after working out where the alarm noise was coming from, I really did not want to run. Sitting here now, I can also tell you, I would rather be sinking into the sofa than trying to muster the energy to write. But run I did, so write I must!
It looked like rain, but within ten minutes (the time it takes the body to warm up to running temperature) I was regretting wearing two base layers AND my Goretex jacket. By the time the second runner passed me in the opposite direction wearing only shorts and t-shirt, I was feeling pretty silly It was milder than I had anticipated but I was only going for a slow run around the block, so to speak, so no worries.
You may already have realised that I’m fascinated by the power of the mind and its internal dichotomy – the conscious and unconscious. The writer Julia Cameron calls her unconscious inner critic ‘Nigel’, creating a persona for what the rest of just know as the thing that tries to stop us achieving our goals. The way to get around our inner Nigels’ is to creep up on them with practiced stealth, which is why I had decided to do a 45 minute circuit this morning… and why the run took me steadily away from the house. I could turn around at any stage, but all the time I felt okay I could also keep going.
When the rain finally came , I was already running through Ditchling with (half) a mind to go to the bottom of the Downs and turn around. The Gore jacket is such an effective bit of kit that it was a real pleasure running in the rain and this, ably supported by my iQ beanie, helped me run on until I found myself on the path that leads to the top of the Beacon. How strange.
How strange also that, despite not feeling at all like running, I would not allow myself to pause or walk in the ascent, so I just plugged away up the hill until I got to the very top. I note with interest that Sri Chinmoy, the Indian spiritual guru who passed away recently, believed in hard physical exercise as a route to enlightenment. Nietzsche similarly encouraged his readers to scale the peaks, physically and mentally (have you ever tried to read his work?!) and it’s true that there is a special draw about attaining the very top of a hill. As a man of discernment standing on a rocky eminence beholdeth those who are below and in distress; so doth the sage, who by his wakefulness hath put to flight his ignorance, look down upon suffering mankind from the heights of wisdom he hath attained. The Buddha.
These guys must have been fit, because I was knackered and standing there it was as much as I could do to take a photo… which I’ll upload when I have worked out how to email pictures from my new phone! Daniel? Tina?
So it was that I found myself slip-sliding back down the Beacon and retracing my steps, back through pretty Ditchling, back past the horny goats, back through the chicken pen, back past the horses and through the electric fences, back past the farmers with their shotgun (a bit too close for comfort on the way out!), back across the common and back to the house. Back to stretch out my tight muscles and then flat on my back with knackeredness.
The surprising things: my short run was two hours on the nose and 11.25 miles (18km) in length; including the climb I reached the Beacon after 1 hour and three minutes and it took me 57 minutes to get home again; three hours later, I’m still knackered!
