#off-road running

[dandelionthinking]

Run  Let me run freely through forests, And I'll give you my heart. 

[pretendwriting-blog]

Why I love running hills

Whilst running this morning in the gorgeous Durham woodland, sunshine pouring in through the still bare trees, I started to think of my transformation. My very particular transformation. I used to hate hills, I would try to avoid running them at all costs. My lungs would scream, my legs burn. I would get to the top and stop. Then, like a wheezing, bumbling, drunken elephant I would continue on the path. Until that fateful day a couple of years ago now, when, after dragging myself up a particular hill in Turin over a few weeks, I realised it was easier than before. So much easier. And I felt fantastic. From that moment on, I slowly began to enjoy running hills. I enjoyed the challenge, I enjoyed the discomfort, the message coming from my brain telling me stop, walk, go home, sleep, I enjoyed denying myself that. Perhaps because I now knew that I could go on, I could go on running those hills as long as it took to get to the top. But there's something else, something perhaps a little more profound that I realised on my run this morning. After many miles on my feet, running is fairly easy, unless I'm pushing for a certain time, so easy that I can distract myself from my efforts without blinking an eye. My mind wanders to abstract places or it creates scenarios or it plans what I'll eat when I get back. I worry about my usual worries. Running was supposed to be an escape from all that, precious stolen moments of mental freedom, quiet. The monotony of the movement of running brought a calm to my loud mind. No more. That is, until I get to a hill. If the incline is sufficient, all goes quiet, and it's just me and my legs and my breath and the hill. Then, with reckless abandon, I let gravity take me down the other side and I feel, if only briefly, totally free.