Less like the wind, more a slight breeze

18 Feb

Despite a healthy sense of punctuality bordering on the anal, I rarely hurry anywhere. I find it hard enough to stay made-up without the unnecessary generation of heat that rushing brings. I still haven’t figured out if foundation evaporates or simply slides off my face… and no amount of surface preparation creates a sufficient barrier against eyeshadow pooling in mercurial strips before my eyelids absorb it. I must need the nutrients and my body knows best.  Honestly it’s like writing on a carrier-bag with a felt pen – utterly futile and often messy. So I’ve always had this knack of leaving in time, arriving exactly five minutes before I am meant  to, usually calm, and if I haven’t had too far to go there might even be a bit of slap left on my face.

You know what I miss?

Running.

Whether spurred on by fear, excitement, determination or pure joy, I miss running.

I remember playing “Catch-a-girl-kiss-a-girl” and running as if my very life (rather than my 9 year old reputation) depended on not getting caught, especially not by Paul Balmer, since he was that blonde girl’s boyfriend, the girl with the grown up short hair and shoes that clicked down the school corridor.  He caught me once. Once… I risked it. I feigned exhaustion, all the time wondering what it would be like to get caught…. and he caught me. I let him catch me, this 9 year old boy who was one of the few at school taller than me. Firmly in his clutches, well my cardigan was, I relaxed, then I coughed, then I coughed some more, then I was sick at his feet.

The first time I kissed a boy was on my 14th birthday… I think that night I was just too scared to run.

I miss racing. And winning. I miss being terrified to slow down, to stop.

I miss, I especially miss, running downhill. With no fear to suspend, no “what-ifs” to dismiss, hurtling downhill, reckless, numb, void of thought, anticipating nothing. Least of all how I would stop. Not caring if I could stop.

kidsrun03

I can’t remember exactly when it happened, but at some point the “what-ifs”, the fear and the ability to predict painful and crumpled outcomes crept in. It started with me trying to slow down as I approached the bottom of a hill. Soon I found myself leaving it to gravity altogether rather that throwing all my strength into overtaking the laws of physics. A short spell of resiting gravity altogether led to the inevitable end – me standing at the top of hills thinking “No way”.

kidsrun04

I miss running.

This post has been grought to you my Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop

mamakat

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11 Responses to “Less like the wind, more a slight breeze”

  1. Dan February 18, 2010 at 10:29 am #

    There was a point last year when I was quite fit from all the walking that i was doing where I got the urge to break into a run whilst on my regular 3 mile daily constitutionals.

    For the first time in my life I could see why joggers did it.

    I’m back to relatively unfit again now, but I’ve just started walking again. And when it gets to that point when that urge comes on me again I’m thinking I might buy some running shoes.

    • MrsW February 18, 2010 at 12:24 pm #

      This gives me some hope that one day in the far flung future it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that I might manage a gentle jog down a small incline… I just have to tackle the walking stage first.

  2. Heather February 18, 2010 at 10:45 am #

    Running downhill at that point where you are sure if your legs can move as fast as gravity is pulling your body is one of the most exhilarating and frightening things. i’m with you on this, i miss running.

    • MrsW February 18, 2010 at 12:25 pm #

      When I think about it I can feel it, I really have to do something about this, I sense a goal forming. It’s a race against osteo-arthritis tho!

  3. Karen & Gerard Zemek February 18, 2010 at 6:55 pm #

    Kids are so brave! I remember jumping off our backyard swings and flying in the air! Now I just think, better not, could break my arm or a leg!

    Visiting from Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop.

    • mrsw February 18, 2010 at 7:11 pm #

      I now – bones are fragile things (aren’t they?). None of my kids can ice-skate since I’m too scared to break something teaching them!

      I remember flying off swings as high as I could go, pumping so high the chain wobbled and I really thought I’d go all the way over. Now they have safety hinges and solid bars instead of chains Bah!

  4. Barbara February 18, 2010 at 10:51 pm #

    Nope, running really does nothing for me. I have always been aware of the possibility of pain!

  5. Kelly February 19, 2010 at 1:00 am #

    As I have been snowbound at home for what seems like my whole life, I recently started fantasizing about running. Just getting on my feet and going until I can’t go anymore. I am never going to enjoy aerobics or yoga or anything else that requires me to learn a routine. I need to embrace the pain of bouncing boobs and crunchy knees and itchy thighs.

    I’m a real big talker. We’ll see how I feel when the sub-zero wind hits me in the face.

    • mrsw February 20, 2010 at 11:31 pm #

      Oh you make this running thing sound so good.

      Actually I’ve just gone off the idea altogether… 🙂

  6. Jinedin February 21, 2010 at 11:34 am #

    Lovely post. I had a moment recently when everything was on top of me and, at 07:00 in the morning when my son entered the room with a bolshy remark, the wee one started crying and my husband rolled over to leave me to deal with it, I leapt out of bed, threw my running gear on in a frenzy and fired out of the door like a rat up a rope. I ran and ran, not jogging at all but pounding along as if I was being pursued (which, of course, I was). Eventually, I stopped, panting like a dog and feeling wonderfully like the whole mess had been left far behind. I wanted to get home and sort breakfast out, get the kids dressed, kiss my husband goodbye…then I realised I was bloody miles from the house and had to run all the damn way back again.
    Reverting to red wine as a coping mechanism.

    • mrsw February 22, 2010 at 10:34 am #

      Please come here every Monday morning… I need a smile on a Monday morning.

      Oh how I wish I could run away like that but I doubt I’d make it past the Co-Op at the end of the road – especially if it was open.

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