Wednesday, 17 March 2010

Running in the dark

Life this last week has been like running in the dark. Every step feels uncertain - I know the ground is there, yet every time I hit it I feel relief. There is uncertainty, yet also faith that the next step will leave me still standing.

So, still standing, shaken, numb and with a huge gap, we carry on.

Duncan and I are making up for lost time and I feel a huge sense of anticipation for all that is to come. Yet it has been so long we have been in this sense of limbo and uncertainty. All plans have been suspended for so long that we have no plans. Still, I go to sleep dreaming of races and training sessions on days when the sun is shining and the footing is sure.

Figurative speech aside, I have been running in the dark in the literal sense too. Monday night was the team run up on Immitos. I took the beginner's run, yet I attacked it with such hunger, that it left the inexperienced runner I was leading gasping for air. I needed the speed, I needed my heart to beat fast and the cold air to hit my face. I needed to feel alive. After we had finished our short 4 km together I turned around. I ran with guys briefly, then left them behind as they were doing a leisurely recovery pace. I ran alone, in the dark, on the mountain, no music, just my footfall to guide me. It was a holy moment, a prayer to a distant god, a thought for my dad and for me, still alive, still standing, still running. And time stood still. And I was peaceful.

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