“The
eye should learn to listen before it looks.”
Robert
Frank
Coming in from a run
and drinking a mug of Rooibos tea under a hot shower I was idly
wondering how to frame my retrospective of the running year. As the
mud turned to brown rivulets running down my legs and swirling across
the porcelain I realised that If I took a bald look at the last 12
months it would appear boring, beige or vanilla or any of those
descriptions of bland one may care to use. If one is inclined to
graphs then mine is fairly flat. It’s true, there are a few obvious
high points, Australia being the standout with its tangled bush, its
dunes, the endless coast and big sky and of course the magic
valedictory dolphins but otherwise a cursory look back appears
repetitive and dull.
I’m left then having
to try and tell a story using broad strokes.
Psalm 42 talks about
deep calling out to deep and this phrase is hooked in my heart as I
wonder what to write. The psalm goes on to say all your waves and
billows have gone over me and I suggest this is how the year has
been for me, I have been enveloped by running and the gravitational
pull of it’s moon tide. As I scratch the surface and dig deeper I
become aware that this has actually been a great running year. My
runs have come as wave after wave, consistent and regular and if the
psalm also alludes to communion then that is also appropriate. I’ve
run my regular routes through the woods and developed an ever deeper
intimacy with what I described to a colleague as my cathedral than I
could ever have imagined.
Actually this is the
best running year I’ve ever had and I’ve now been running ten
years.
I have fragments of
memories and impressions, so in no particular order:
The rising mist
delivering three teenage boys, hooded like death monks in Adidas and
GAP, sharp nosed with hidden eyes, trailing menace like
feral things of the night.
Running with Annie on a
crisp morning, our breath whooshing from our mouths like freshly
extinguished dragons.
The inappropriateness
of neon running gear in the midst of nature.
The absolute necessity of running in red underwear.
How there is something
awful about trees in winter.
Drinking Swedish Cider
in the garden after a hot run.
Giving up Swedish Cider
and indeed all alcohol and flipping my eating habits on their head.
Feeling happier.
Fridays.
The peal of church
bells in Summer as I ran across the common.
The clarity and purity
of birdsong.
How I love ending a run
by bounding across the Common towards the pond.
The eerie healing
moment in the snow, brokenness and light juxtaposed and threaded
together by the formation of ducks above my head. It changed me as
the kiss of the divine should.
Silver sweat slicking
off my Maori skin in the heat.
The earth cracked apart
by the sun.
Solitude.
Light.
Running with my
laaitie, my son who at 14 already has a zest for life that surpasses
most people and laid aside his bass to run with me. Thanks bud for
introducing me to the wonderful Vulfpeck.
The incredible heat
that took me home.
Miriam Makeba and
Ladysmith Black Mambazo lifting my heart as they always do.
Cold Chisel and Foy
Vance. First Aid Kit.
Running conversations.
Lots of them. Some serious, some profane but all infused with
quality. I’ve never been so stimulated by talking and listening.
Which brings me to…
What I think of as The
Dead Poets Friday Runners.
Kate who has given me a
better level of self esteem by bestowing what appears to be sincere
value upon me and faithfully tapping what I think of as the blessing
tree each time she passes it.
Annie who takes no shit
from me ever and seems to be able to look right into my soul with
specific intensity. Eish. She has no idea how valuable this is to me.
So 2018 was running as
I wish it, there was contrast and texture, colour and conversation.
It was poetry and music and art. It was Divine and profane. There was
evolution. I’ve never felt so in love with running, so consumed but
so at peace with it. It was alive.
And it’s an important
conversation I’ll finish on. Running down a rocky road with Annie
and Kate I mentioned that the sunset was worth a photo but that I
wouldn’t because I would rather just enjoy it for what it was in
the moment. I said that it was unique and we would never see another
sunset like it ever again in our lives and that made it special.
Annie said that each of us saw it in a different way from our own
perspective and Kate agreeing said it was what John Mayer wrote about
in his song 3X5
“Today I finally
overcame
tryin' to fit the world
inside a picture frame
Maybe I will tell you
all about it when I'm in the mood to
lose my way but let me
say
You should have seen
that sunrise with your own eyes
it brought me back to
life
You'll be with me next
time I go outside
no more 3x5's
just no more 3x5's”
So if you are reading
this I say enjoy every moment. They are fleeting and we don’t get
them back. Make your lives extraordinary even when they appear
mundane. Love. Listen and talk. Create.
Run.
Duncan.
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