This morning, typical of most Monday mornings once
the children are delivered to school, I donned my lycra and set out for a run.
Before anyone is too impressed, I feel I must clarify – my definition of ‘run’
is very loose; it usually involves some running, plenty of walking and a lot of
chatting with my neighbour and another friend who has joined the ‘Monday run.’
We have been steadlily working through my Couch to 5K app, progressing to the
giddy heights of Week 5 – in a year and a half!
The difference this morning, was that neither my
neighbour, nor my friend was available for our running rendezvous. The mental battle began the moment I received
their messages. Suddenly the run was
entirely unappealing. Why would I want
to get into my lycra and drag my wobbling self along our 5K route around the
village alone?
“I hope you’re impressed!” I boasted to my
neighbour, as I passed her on the school run, feeling smug and pleased with
myself that I’d made it this far. She
genuinely was; running alone is dull and hard work! I set out with determination, but, as I
continued, I noticed a few things happening.
First, I had no idea of what pace to run. We usually settle into some sort of happy medium
between ‘sprint’ (my neighbour) and ‘plod’ (me). By the time I had finished my first 5 minute
run (which I gave up on at 4 minutes 30), I was gasping for air, clearly not
pacing myself properly.
Second, I felt vulnerable to cars /dogs /other
runners sneaking up on me. Ordinarily,
two or three sets of headphone-muffled ears combine to alert us to potential
dangers. Alone, I was less likely to
hear and more likely to be pounced upon, last second, by something with
threatening intent! Third, the route seemed so much longer! By the time I rounded the last bend, I could
see my house in the distance across the field; as the wind whistled and my legs
began to drag, I longed for the gift of teleportation to get me home to a hot
bath more quickly than this method allowed.
“Two are better than one, because they have better
return for their labour. If either of them falls down, one can help the other
up,” declares the writer of Ecclesiastes, one of the less-than-cheerful books
of the Old Testament. I am inclined to agree with him. In the absence of friendly conversation, my
run gave me time to ponder this thought and the myriad links between my run and
our spiritual lives. We need a friend
for the journey. We’re better at pacing
ourselves with someone else next to us, living it too. We’re less vulnerable to the tricks and traps
that assault us. The journey itself, not
just reaching the destination, is much, much more enjoyable and endurable, with
a kindred spirit walking with us.
Next time one of my friends decides to renege on
the run, I think I might give it a skip and head home for a large latte
instead!
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