The Scribbler

17 May 2011

The wind changes

Filed under: run — The Scribbler @ 20:39
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The wind blows in a gale of grey clouds. A stormy photoshoot out by the Town Moor leaves me with a head full of angry white noise. Like the wind I am fretful, mind-tossed, unsettled.

But these are grey clouds. Not black. And simple things like silence and sleep soothe the disarray. I awake to golden stillness and creep out into the cool early daylight.

My breath comes fretful and patchy like the cloud as I push on seeking speed, then calms as I drop to a gentler pace.I try to lose myself in the run, but cannot quite shake off the tatters of old dreams and older memories. Tension has knotted them into my neck and shoulder and I cannot comb through the tangles.

I finish and stretch gratefully. Enjoy a few moments in the freshness of the new day.

Tiredness creeps in. Sets me yawning in the shower and scuttling in search of stimulants as I stumble to my desk. I stutter through a dreamlike day, soft at the edges, failing to rediscover that first bright wakefulness.

My usual bounce has deserted me and for a moment I am reminded of what it feels like not to run. To be bound to the surface, shuffling, sluggish. To drudge through the day with no hope or spark.

This morning’s effort took its toll. But the action has more than repaid me a million times over, with a lightness of heart and the promise of bright new horizons ahead.

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