I have been in a strange state recently. A period of higher intensity work and travel (with the resulting long days, short nights, and broken hotel sleeps) coincided with a forced break in my running, due to an injury which had come about from forcing my training and battering miles mindlessly. When work went mad it was a relief not to feel like I had to run.
It was such a relief, I questioned how much I wanted to get fit again.
Maybe, I thought, I’d run the well dry?
Eventually my feet came off the ground. External forces like strong winds drove me in their direction and I was unable to anchor against them. My mood bounced about. I flipped between lethargy and energy. I overthought. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn’t sleep.
At least it gave my achilles time to heal.
Work wound down and I left the hotels behind. I knew what I needed.
Solitude. Air. Mud. Hill and dale, bike path to byway.
Dirt on these calves and a heart hammering in this chest.
My feet landed back on the ground and I braced against the winds which, I soon realised, were hardly as strong as they had seemed.
run into words 