Today was my last opportunity to run my usual route. It was a perfect morning - no wind, still and a little bit cool thanks to the heavy downpour yesterday. I left at 4.15am. This is what I realised I love about running: I am a 27 year old woman, but when I run, I feel like a child - young and light on my feet. Why do we forget the things we love when we grow up? I used to love playing outside, engaging in imaginary games. Here at home, I love running because the monotony and pace unravel the knots within. Strangely, when I run outdoors and am around nature, I am unaware that I have knots, so engrossed in the moment that my own identity is subdued. I embrace my own bit part in the scene before me, the whole play in general. Nothing like the big fat trees that I encounter every morning, to illustrate just how transitory our problems and our lives really are. I finished around 6.30am and felt cold sweat in my Rasta-tangle pontytail.
15 miles in 135 minutes
15 cold laps in the pool to quieten my legs.
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