|My writing buddy Isha's early morning run|
through Lodi Gardens in New Delhi, India.
|My brother-in-law, Sam Ainsley, preparing for the starting line of the|
Grindleford Gallop (21 miles, with a 3,000ft ascent), in Derbyshire, UK.
|Su Nutton, one of my best friends from my school days, after completing|
the London marathon. She lives and trains in the UAE.
|After a break of 8 years from her marathon running, my writing buddy Sharon is racing again. Here, she has just crossed the finish line of a 5K in New York, her first in many years. Since I began this blog, she has run in her second.|
|My trainer and friend, Nakeeya, doing what she loves.|
I love running. I run for the sense of space between the foot falls when I am suspended in the air; I run so that the sounds of the world become muted by the rhythm of my breathing; I run because it slows my thinking until I hold only the thread of a single idea in my mind (perhaps other runners can think about lots of things when they're running - I can't. When I try, I fall over.) I run because I love the sensation of having been thoroughly cleansed, inside and out, at the end of a run; and I run because sometimes there are moments of magic. This morning, I ran through the woods and a red-tailed hawk swooped above me through the trees: just me, the dog, and a red-tailed hawk. We were all looking for something, I guess, and while I love seeing it written into the faces posted on Facebook, it feels great to be out there looking for myself.