I rarely get overtly evangelical about running and never shy from using 100 words when 10 would do to describe my experiences when running.
I occupy the space between Haruki Murakami and the American runners who totally dominate their runs and where everything is always awesome.
This approach stems from a belief that those experiences are universal and by explaining them to non-runners they might be able to find the same experiences in their day-to-day lives.
Today, this evening to be precise, in that gap between work being over and the mayhem of pancakes being unleashed I went for what a training log (I don’t have one) would call an easy 5 miles. This was a keep the system ticking over run in preparation for the back2back marathons this weekend.
While the run lasted around 40 minutes and was completed in the fading light and icy rain it had that quality: the alignment of all the planets, the perfect wave, the sense of ease, the decoupling of space and time, the thing we search for everyday but rarely find.
This was the running equivalent of having the matriarchal hairdresser of your youth blow gently across the back of your neck.