I live close to two running tracks - one winds around a large, scenic lake and the other is a favourite among CBD and inner city joggers, locally referred to as 'the Tan'.
These running tracks have become my second home and I've been a consistent jogger for about four years now. Having said that, I got back into running before then, in my late 20s, spurred on by a bad breakup. I hit the treadmill to release pent up emotions and like Forrest Gump, "I just kept on going."
My thrice weekly effort averages 30 minutes a go (the Goldilocks 'just right' for me) and in this pursuit I'm rewarded with benefits.
I recall the Nike running scene in 'What Women Want' with Mel Gibson and Helen Hunt:
"It's quiet, just the sound of her feet on asphalt. She likes to run alone. No pressure, no stress. This is the one place she can be herself. Look any way she wants, dress, think anyway she wants. No game playing, no rules."
Many runners hit the track at dawn but I prefer to run late afternoon (I've since read the body's core temperature is warmer between 4 - 7pm, presenting an optimal time for exercise). It's nature's call that surges me along after a day's work.
On the track my mind empties its daily junk and sweats the big and small stuff. With a few strides, I've entered the runner's zone.
Unfortunately, sometimes, life gets in the way of a good run.
Tonight the first hiccup in my running ritual came from a near miss with a cyclist. As I began my steady canter, I caught him in my peripheral vision hurtling towards me. This mind and body interruption was not to be my last. Ahead two women were engrossed in conversation and had failed to notice (or more likely just didn't care) that they'd taken up the full width of path by walking side by side. I veered off course to pass them. Along the track there were more walkers and runners, some with dogs skirting from one side to the other. Not to mention the rowers that needed avoiding as they carried their boats from the sheds to the water.
Then there's going to the Tan for a run. This comes with its own irks. There are traffic crossings, office workers not watching where they walk on the journey home (distracted by mobile phones). And once I've finally reached the track, I'll share it with the many corporate types going on company group runs as well as solo fitness fanatics whizzing past like a bolt out of the blue.
It's a jungle out there where only the fit will prevail. Lucky for me, fitness is part of the deal when you go for a run.
These running tracks have become my second home and I've been a consistent jogger for about four years now. Having said that, I got back into running before then, in my late 20s, spurred on by a bad breakup. I hit the treadmill to release pent up emotions and like Forrest Gump, "I just kept on going."
My thrice weekly effort averages 30 minutes a go (the Goldilocks 'just right' for me) and in this pursuit I'm rewarded with benefits.
I recall the Nike running scene in 'What Women Want' with Mel Gibson and Helen Hunt:
"It's quiet, just the sound of her feet on asphalt. She likes to run alone. No pressure, no stress. This is the one place she can be herself. Look any way she wants, dress, think anyway she wants. No game playing, no rules."
Many runners hit the track at dawn but I prefer to run late afternoon (I've since read the body's core temperature is warmer between 4 - 7pm, presenting an optimal time for exercise). It's nature's call that surges me along after a day's work.
On the track my mind empties its daily junk and sweats the big and small stuff. With a few strides, I've entered the runner's zone.
Unfortunately, sometimes, life gets in the way of a good run.
Tonight the first hiccup in my running ritual came from a near miss with a cyclist. As I began my steady canter, I caught him in my peripheral vision hurtling towards me. This mind and body interruption was not to be my last. Ahead two women were engrossed in conversation and had failed to notice (or more likely just didn't care) that they'd taken up the full width of path by walking side by side. I veered off course to pass them. Along the track there were more walkers and runners, some with dogs skirting from one side to the other. Not to mention the rowers that needed avoiding as they carried their boats from the sheds to the water.
Then there's going to the Tan for a run. This comes with its own irks. There are traffic crossings, office workers not watching where they walk on the journey home (distracted by mobile phones). And once I've finally reached the track, I'll share it with the many corporate types going on company group runs as well as solo fitness fanatics whizzing past like a bolt out of the blue.
It's a jungle out there where only the fit will prevail. Lucky for me, fitness is part of the deal when you go for a run.
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