Managing Change
Different sides of the same road
It took me a long time to realise that I have a deep and meaningful relationship with the B3109. For context, it’s basically the road that connects Corsham to Bradford-on-Avon. I never knew it was all the same road until him and I started zipping up and down it to go swimming at Farleigh Hungerford, or to the Stumble Inn pub. I pointed significant locations out to him: “That’s where I cross the road to go to the wood! That’s where I cross when I take the Other Route. That’s where I cross to get home, most days. And that, that leads to the point where you picked me up when I hit my head on a tree branch.”
Haring down it in the car, I saw the many faces of myself on different days, different runs, training for different things. There I am in the winter in the dark, my head torch speckled with rain and my jaw set in determination to simply make it home. There I am on the first days of spring, wondering if I have it in me to make it to Bath, but currently feeling lively, feeling daring. There I am feeling at my wit’s end, starting or finishing a long day or week. There I am feeling like I’m right on the cusp of something good. Are they really so different? Are they just different sides of the same road?
I like knowing that there’s a really long ribbon that connects 90% of the runs I do here. Even when I feel like I’m extending myself beyond what feels possible, I will still have to cross that road, probably twice. I like that him and I drive up and down it to do some of our favourite things. I like that it’s the most direct road between me and a friend, a fellow runner (even though we skirt around the most obvious route in favour of hills and softer surroundings).
Sure, to have a road you frequently cross as a runner is, from the outside, completely unremarkable. It’s inevitable. But the road represents an element of certainty alongside a lot of change.
It’s not change itself that I have any issues with. I love change, I hurl myself at it, I love to feel and be and think slightly differently. When I go away, I like being in a different routine. When I come home, I want to feel like my old routine has been affected. I run the usual routes but I come home feeling somehow - yes, you’ve got it - changed.
What I struggle with is any shift in my emotional relationship to things that are tied up in the old ways. They inevitably transform, and whether it’s for better or worse, it seems like the sentimental side takes longer to take on a new hue. It may well herald a healthier and happier dynamic for everyone involved, but before we get there, is everyone okay? Are we fine?
Realistically, the routes don’t change. I combine them in different ways, I come at them from different directions, but the change is only at the surface level. I never run along the road itself - besides anything else, it would be kind of dangerous. I also never even think about the other crossings when I cross it. My route is elsewhere at any present moment. But still that stability remains. We’re okay, we’re fine, it’s just a different route on a different day.
In other news…
There have been a few things in the culture-of-running space that I’ve really loved in recent weeks, so I just wanted to share:
This feature on multiple World Record Holder and SOAR athlete Clare Elms. It’s a beautiful piece, she is epic and has made me believe my fastest years are still ahead of me. Words by Rebecca Taylor. (Who by the way, is also epic and inspiring.)
Photo by Wendy Huynh. This film by SCOTT sports about Robin Gemperle preparing for the Transcontinental Race. It’s shot like it should be on Mubi and I am obsessed with it.
This interview with David Roche after he broke the Leadville 100 course record and won Javelina Jundred. The Rich Roll episode with David Roche has just dropped, which is fantastic, but they recorded it pre-Javelina, and this chat just feels a bit more grounded. I listened on a long run.