cellophane past like a dry whisper

  • Wednesday, June 20, 2012
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I don't know if you've ever seen a dog with it's head hanging out of a car window, facing into the wind? Their lips get pulled back into a kind of idiot grin of joy and sheer happiness. The wind wasn't blowing much on Sunday, just enough to cellophane past me like a dry whisper but I felt like one of those dogs none the less. Living for the moment. no worries. Acoustic.
I was with Jerry and Liz out on the trails around North Kent. This run was a study of indolence, one of the most relaxed and mellow I've been on. It was a year since we had stumbled upon a tangle of naked hippies in a field so this was an anniversary run of sorts, the mission: to find the frolicking folk. We crossed the usual wheat fields and ran down narrow bramble trails, crossing a stream via stepping stones. I refused to cross a field full of cows and interested bulls, no matter, we changed direction and found Chevening Lakes, an expanse of beautiful clear water over seventy acres in size. Returning we ran along a disused railway line to Darent Valley and back to the unlocked car. As a run this was pretty low trajectory as far as distance and pace go, yet I am increasingly enjoying these types of run, there is great pleasure in friends and pristine scenery.
And the hippies? We didn't find them, the grubby yurt of last year absent along with it's occupants.

Running repairs

My beloved Vibrams AKA monkey feet to some are getting a bit battered. Although the soles are virtually unmarked by a thousand miles of mud, snow, trails and tarmac the uppers are suffering. My big toes are now hanging out of the huge holes so I've had to tape them up with duct tape to squeeze as many miles out of my old friends as I can.
I guess with a conventional running shoe the soles go soft and the uppers last, minimalist running turns a lot of things upside down!

wild eyes and foaming lips

  • Tuesday, June 12, 2012
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Frustration that I've been facing
I don't remember how but I've lost motivation
I can't stop this sinking feeling from creeping over me
I can't stop myself seeing the darkness in front of me

It's not that hard to just fall apart, fall apart.
It's not that hard to just fall apart, I'm falling apart.
It's not that hard to just fall apart, from the start.
It's not that hard to just fall apart, I'm falling apart.
(Less Than Jake)

A few weeks ago I ran with friends. It was fun, running like gypsy kings with wild eyes and foaming lips and as colourful as kites. We ran across evergreen Kent fields, through villages and past backyards containing yapping dogs and noisy kids. The different internal landscapes we inhabit revealed themselves in fragments as we ran, different hopes and different dreams that found a safe place for expression amongst us. I felt hope.

My following runs have been lonely and duty bound. I am spiritually, emotionally and physically tired and I bank training miles with the weight of monkeys on my back. It's soul destroying and I feel like a stone falling down a long, black well. Black is my theme, I have crossed the familiar rubicon I know so well to the dark side. I'm frustrated, my running is going so well yet the dead ends I face seem to put the handbrake on, I can't go to the next level.

When joy dies it gets harder to pick up and go.