Playing the Right Notes
My body has returned to feeling like something I recognise.
I’ve felt it while running, and I’ve felt it while dancing, and different people will have different things that they feel it through. If you’ve spent any time away from painting, playing a musical instrument, maybe even wearing a certain favourite jacket or pair of shoes, you’ll know what it’s like to be reunited with that familiarity. It’s winter’s favourite jumper and summer’s comfiest sandals. For weeks post-injury, running didn’t feel quite like it should to me. I've been glad to be back in it, but the sleeves felt a bit twisted, the buttons didn't quite meet in the middle, the brush strokes weren’t smooth.
During my run last Friday, things clicked into place again. I recognised my own body and my breath within it. The swing, lock and release of my arms and legs felt like the right length of elastic and my toes licked the ground rather than scraped. The pace and effort are harder and slower than I once knew, but all I really wanted back was the feeling.
What is the feeling? It's just a sort of right-ness. In dance, it's the precision of first, second and fifth position with the feet, bra bas with the arms, a grand jeté with straight legs. On an instrument it would be a series of notes, flitting fingers through a sequence you could do with your eyes closed. Yes, it's that - it’s something you could do with your eyes closed, a place you could navigate in the dark, the proprioception and proportions are a hand reached out in the night to grasp a glass of water, drinking it and placing it back on the bedside table.
So continuing with this analogy, yes: have you ever had the experience of waking up in an unfamiliar place in the middle of the night and being confused by the light, the air, the furniture arrangement? I usually face away from the window and the door is usually over there, so where the hell am I? You are safe, you know that much, but sleep’s soft fingers are falling short of pointing to your specific whereabouts. Maybe coming back from injury feels a little like this.
I can walk good distances without my ankle even twinging now. Let this be known: there is a period - a long period - when it just doesn't get better at all, then suddenly it gets better every day, no matter what you throw at it.
I've entered a 110k race for the end of September. It's the 7 Valleys Ultra in the Lake District and to be honest, I'm more nervous about self-navigating than the distance or the amount of elevation. Closer to the time I will definitely fret about the weather: lost, cold, tired and soggy is a familiar state of being, and unlike running itself, it's not one I wish to repeat. But that's nice, isn't it? The things I'm most worried about are nothing to do with the running itself. For as long as my body feels like my own, for as long as I can play those notes with my eyes closed, I'll be alright.
In other news…
I just wanted to recommend this beautiful little film from NNormal about Elhousine Elazzaoui. He’s a fascinating athlete anyway - constantly winning and dominating the short trail distances with gutsy, punchy performances - but his backstory is even more interesting. He is a berber from Morocco and this film explores some of his relationship with nature, his love of the desert and the culture at home with his family.