Like a hormonal salmon swimming up river to spawn

  • Sunday, January 29, 2017
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January 2017 has been superb. In the latter stages of last year I became sad, the blues, morbs*, thief whisperers and psyche trolls overwhelmed me, sucking running out of me and leaving me hollow shelled and whey faced with the burden of keeping up with my mileage. Under those circumstances we invariably fail and I did. I began to hate running because of the obligations that I placed upon myself.
I don't exactly know what broke the yoke but something distinct happened when I ran on new Years Eve, I felt an almost physical tear in the things causing my resistance to running, the rain, the cold, the dark, the preference for a cup of coffee instead. The can't be arsed. There was a moment of clarity where I knew that the various demons hampering me had been consigned to whichever hell had sent them. Their power shattered I've easily rolled out for a run and in doing so I've fallen back in love with running. I've been set free from my dystopian mindsets to run through the jagged edges of winter landscapes, the fields and hedgerows razored with frost and fringed with cobwebs like bridal lace that have been beautiful in their starkness. I've abandoned my other burdens, heaving laundry from washing machine to tumble drier, bending my back over sinkfuls of dirty dishes and dragging out odious bags of garbage. These things still exist but I have been more focused on sunrise, sunset and frost, in my mind I leap over roots and rocks like a hormonal salmon swimming up river to spawn, deep down I know I am a bald and bespectacled 50 something bloke trundling through the mud in strange shoes. I am at peace with either image.
 Running with my laaitie**

Sullen sheep huddle in the field.

The frozen pond, sunrise.



* Morbid feelings.

**  Laaite ‎(plural Laaites)
  1. (South Africa, slang) A youth; a young person, especially male.

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