Progress isn't always linear

One of the most annoying parts about being a writer is that inspiration always pops into my head at the most inconvenient of times. I was just about to go for a run when the idea that has been bouncing around in my head for weeks finally solidified into some tangible thoughts.

'Not now', I groaned to myself as I laced up my shoes. The thought to stay behind and write was tempting - but having just spent the better part of the day in front of a screen working, I was loathe to squander my only window for the outdoors in favour of more screen time.

This is a tension that occurs for me often. The ideas always spike when I’m about to do or already in the middle of something, never when I actually have spare time and a moment to think. Throwing in the towel to harness these random bursts of creativity is always at the back of my mind, but usually it would cause such a massive disruption to my schedule that it’s almost never worth it.

Still, seeing as what I wanted to write about was running, I decided to take my thoughts out with me and see what else I could wring out while pounding the pavement. The challenge would inevitably be remembering everything I thought of by the time I got home.

It felt odd stepping out of the house in a long sleeve top and long tights with the bright late afternoon sun blaring down. But with the way the air had wrapped itself around my lungs to make my breathing come out short and ragged was enough to remind me that I wasn’t being daft and it really was cold up here.

This has been the coldest winter I’ve ever experienced in Auckland - and I can now confidently say that to be true and not just because I’ve acclimatised to the humidity and warm of the north. My parents came up from the South Island this winter and also corroborated the fact that Auckland was just cold. I shudder thinking back to my days running in Dunedin, down by the harbour in -8 degrees in just shorts and a thermal. Could I still do that now? Maybe, but not without a lot of pain, both physically and mentally.

Truth be told, I miss the simplicity of those uni days. Back then, I didn't really bat an eyelid, I just ran and was happy for it. Whereas over the last year or so, I feel like I've been on a bit of a journey to reconnect with this sport, to remember why I love it so much.

I'm not injured, except an incidental flare up here and there of my chronic knee issue. But there have been some weeks this year where I haven't run at all, and I didn't miss it. Some weeks where I did run but didn't enjoy it. Joining a running club has been something that has started to rekindle my fire, so I'm slowly getting there but it's still not where it used to be. I miss the times where I used to look forward to going running, where it existed as my 'me time', my excuse to connect with nature and the world around me.

My relationship with running has always been an interesting one. As a kid, I hated it. While the linked post tells the story of a younger me who was unfit and slow, it also fails to mention the aforementioned and persistent knee issue I've had from childhood that in many ways was the root cause of that running aversion.

I played a lot of sport but I just couldn't abide running. But moving to Dunedin flicked a switch in me - the desire to explore plus knees that had been strengthened by years of physio and then the gym meant that all of a sudden, I actually started to enjoy it.

This kicked off a love affair with running that felt at the time like it knew no bounds. No matter the occasion, running was my saviour. Stressed about exams? Go for a run. Want to improve fitness for rugby? Go for a run. Wanted to celebrate my birthday? Go for a run. In the years that followed I entered events, and rather further than I had ever intended to before. I have to give my knees a little pat on the back because younger me would never have dreamed of what they've actually been able to achieve.

I remember being injured in my postgraduate year and how much it burned not being able to run. Now, for better or worse, I don't feel any of that frustration nor any of that desire.

But, as frustrating as this has been, it's forced me to reflect and realise that progress isn't always linear. Rather, it's a big ball of wibbly wobbly... timey wimey stuff (threw that one in for the Doctor Who fans among you!)

What I'm trying to say is that this has been a season of acceptance and learning to take the twisty, turny path that is progress. Sometimes you have to go backwards or sidewards in order to keep going forward, and often what you learn from these side steps and side quests is just as important as having been on an upward trajectory the whole time.

Just as I started from a position of not liking running, it stands to reason that the rest of my life would see continued phases of enjoyment, indifference and maybe even dislike for this sport.

But for the time being, I spare a moment for my lungs as I reach the top of the stairs and finally realise I’ve warmed up enough to feel my feet again. Yay!

The view is what I’ve come here for and its appearance keeps getting tantalisingly closer as I run around each winding corner. At last I see it past the break in the trees and take the last incline up to the summit for the 360 view it gives me of Tāmaki Makaurau.

Maybe this is what I’ve been needing. Seeing the sun set beside the Sky Tower is more than enough to remind me that I do actually love running after all.