Pete never met my Dad, but recognised I'd turned into him this weekend. It's been a tough few days emotionally and I've been more than a bit grumpy, that being the literal interpretation of sounding like your parents. It seems I've been quoting things my Dad would have said or did with a heavy dose of nostalgia. I've moved house, not exactly through choice, but without doubt it's been a period of great reflection and forward vision. "You're just sounding like your Dad now"...an invitation to shut up.
Remembering this is a running blog, my issue is how the mind affects the body. I've never been afraid to admit (curious choice of word, suggesting this is a taboo) that as much as your muscles need a rub and a massage from time to time, so too does your mind. Therapy. I'm well aware of how mind and body are connected, and my running both helps my head space as much as my head affects my physical performance. All this is a long winded attempt at simply saying my running has been a bit shit in recent weeks.
I could have just started with that. I had an early morning run in Edinburgh during which I ignored some strong advice...and got lost. And the sun briefly shone on my coffee shop, so briefly in fact that within a moment, ambitions of alfresco dining were extinguished with yet more rain. There perhaps isn't much more to report than that. But there has been running. It continues, while everything around me has changed. I'm not sure what my Dad would have made of all of this...I probably wasn't listening!
