Feels like old times

This was first published on my Patreon page on 21 December 2020 as part of a new column called Monday Musings.

Just when we thought 2020 couldn’t get any worse, along comes The New Strain. At least here in the UK, an even more contagious strain of the coronavirus is now on the loose, and we’re heading into a situation even worse than the first lockdown in March. And all at that moment of the year when people take a few days off, get together with family, relax and let their hair down - and loosen their belts a little.

The first thing I thought when I heard the news was: we can still run. For so many people, that thing that provides them with solace, fulfillment, excitement, is no longer possible - whether that’s meeting friends for a drink, going to music concerts, the theatre, or for some even going to the office. But one of the few things left relatively untouched is running. 

Just being at one, out in the woods, moving, getting out of breath, and coming home full of the joys of it all, is still on. The pubs may be closed, but the fields are still open.

So let’s feel lucky about that at least, and perhaps use any Christmas break, and extra time on our hands, to go a little further into that experience. I only ran 11 miles (18km), but as I dragged my way up the last hill on my run yesterday, I felt a tiny glimpse of that aching tiredness you get in really long runs. My first reaction was oh god, I wish I was finished already, maybe I’ll walk this last bit. But then I remembered those ultra runners who say they look forward to this bit, that when it starts to hurt is when it starts, that in that struggle is the real experience of ultra running. And so I made a decision to embrace it. To enjoy the feeling of aching in my legs, the fact that I had to grind to keep moving, to go with it, experience it rather than fight it. I can’t say it was fun, but it felt better, almost peaceful, as though my mind was stilled for a moment, and I became calm, resolute, running into the light emanating from somewhere deep down in the pain cave.

Like I say, it was only 11 miles, so I barely got to the entrance of said pain cave. I barely glimpsed inside. But it still felt good to embrace the pain, even for a few minutes. And realise that it wasn’t really pain at all.