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Sunday 9 March 2014

Dear, Sweet, Running Oblivion

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Dear, Sweet Running Oblivion 

Occasionally the dark clouds descend around me and I am chased by the Black Dog. Strangled metaphors aside, it is then I take solace in Dear, Sweet, Running Oblivion. The Black Dog may be fast, indiscriminate and vicious, but luckily, I can manage to out run him.

The inky night calls to me and I stand naked and alone in my quiet room. A calm begins to over take me as I don the uniform of my trade. It feels like winter, even if it isn't and thin, weak shafts of light pierce through the blinds like film noire. Between the slats I can see my arena of choice; the lamp-lit streets.

On goes the thick, long-sleeved top, the long running tights, the hat, the gloves, the buff and I am no longer me; clad in anonymous kit I will be a shadow, a flitting vision with no distinctive features as I pass strangers that are heavily covered in duck down and polyester. Out in to the cold and the dusk swallows me up. I am muscles and lungs, nothing else. My breath is visible; I can hear nothing but my long, slow exhalations and a bleep as the technology on my wrist is engaged and I begin the journey. I have no route or distance in mind. I will just go, somewhere, anywhere.

The whirl inside my head is spinning like a broken washing machine rocking on its foundations, but the rhythmic pounding of sole on pavement begins to steady it. The beauty of the run is that it stops the anger and frustration rising. I cannot be intense while I am moving. The problems of my day flit through my brain, but they cannot grab hold. I can't be mad at them. I may have felt the rising panic in my chest that day, struggled to control it, but I cannot panic when my focus shifts to the physical.

One foot in front of the other. Find the rhythm and the pace. Relaxing in to the movement, synchronising lungs and muscles, living in the pure movement . I search for fluidity, and if I am lucky I will begin to ooze through the streets. A primal instinct.

A bad day had begun much earlier. A rude awakening and slowly the weight had pressed down on me. Just the modern world, nothing tough. I'm not struggling for my life. I have food and a roof, I have nothing real to worry about. And for that I beat myself up more. I have no right to these feelings when others have it so much worse. My situation doesn't even register on the scale. And I wanted away from it all. I began to long for the run that I know is the solution.

The miles pass by, pavements flee from my feet, rows of houses silently move through my peripheral vision and I feel soothed. Maybe it is just tiredness, but the energy to be frustrated and angry has dissipated. And in fact, it's not tiredness, because I feel energised in most ways, despite the tired muscles.

Arriving home I wash the dirt and sweat away and feel cleansed in more ways than one. My mind is sated for now; reset button pressed.

I feel the quiet and enjoy it, until the next time.