The pandemic made me dread more virus than one. Since I started running in its earliest days, I've developed a mental dependency on it that makes me dread colds. This is meant to be the beginning of spring in the northern hemisphere. But winter is stubborn in Britain and I caught my second bug of the season and, one stupid decision to do 5 miles because I thought I was "definitely feeling better" aside, it left me grounded. After a fortnight, I wanted to get back to my domain. I was going to witness running if actually running was impossible.
So as hundreds of people including my girlfriend set off at Crystal Palace Parkrun, I walked in their wake. Positioning myself on the downward half of the course to take photos, I realised it was the first time I've attended Parkrun without running or volunteering. I was neither lost in music nor shouting "I'm tired just clapping!" while wearing a purple high-vis. It was the first time I really just looked at other people running.
As the fastest 20 or so runners passed, the steady beat of shoes bouncing off concrete and mouth-breathing felt more soothing than intense. They were all going far faster than I ever have but their rhythm and focus almost made them seem slow. I snapped Emilia looking determined and absorbed going up and down the park's hill. She did her best time to date at Crystal Palace.
It made me miss the dogged solitude they were all absorbed in. I regretted all the healthy days I hadn't run. I wanted to run 5 miles a day and write 1,000 words a day. I was back in the gym days later and left with aching core and glutes.
The following Saturday, Emilia and I were back at Tooting Parkrun. I ran slower than I'd have liked because it turns out it's actually hard to run when your arse really hurts from deadlifting 30kg. But I loved it. I snapped Emilia as she sped up to cross the finish line. From here on out, I'll run more than twice the weekly distance I'd been running before I got sick.
I realised writing this post that my first serious attempt at running and my first encounter with the subject of my book were triggered by the pandemic. Three years later, I’ve done two half-marathons and can recite chunks of Edward Jenner's life story by rote. As a runner, I’m back. Now I need to crack on with the writing and finish the sample chapter about Jenner's early years as a country doctor. It will mean sitting for hours at a time, consulting a pile of books, writing sentences, deleting them and repeating that sequence until I have enough sentences I like. I’m really looking forward to it.
Comments
No posts