A sharp day; bright with optimism and sun. The sky had been washed clean by the previous night's rain and all that was left was the stark contrast between the mud on the path and the pellucid air.
I picked my way out of the village and headed for Dundry. This ancient towering hill has an other-worldly atmosphere that contrasts with the development sat at its feet. The community at the top even has a different climate to the urban grime below, and this makes for an exhilerating run with views that match the Lake District in places.
The girls had gone to nursery - I had some time; finally. Time to do what needs to be done. Think and run. Think while running. Run to avoid thinking. I was out for at least two hours, which was a golden opportunity to unravel my head. Or to uncover a few gems in my thinking so they could be shared. Oh, I don't know! It's really hard to dig away at things. It's even harder to find something worth digging up. Perhaps the running isn't as a good a tool as I thought. Still, the day was a beautiful one and maybe that was enough.
On the top of Dundry the wind made some attempt to bring a seasonal coolness and there were signs of the approaching autumn. Maybe this was the message - a new season that is also the herald of the dying year. A juxtaposition of beginning and end, like a repeating and spinning circle; birth and death.
Down the dreaded Elwell lane - ankle-snapping rocks with a slick of greasy algae and mud, causing me to walk in places. A stream runs down this green lane and in places it cascades and trickles, washing any loose soil away and leaving just bedrock, loose stones and the occasional random paving slab dumped by a farmer trying to tame the space. It wasn't that long ago when there was no way I would have walked down any of this, but today everything felt overly-challenging and my mortality had come to the fore. Birds chattered away, unthreatened by my presence, and the trees bustled with squirrels.
This lane must be so ancient! The thought of people walking down here hundreds of years ago is quite startling..
Oh, come on, let's pick the pace up here!
Past Bristol airport doing its bit for the environment by parking in fields (the day it announced a £60m car park), with the holiday makers wondering why their car is so dirty...
Past butterflies basking in the late summer sun, unsure whether to hibernate or mate...
Past a gate that over the years has been turned into a triumphantly practical version of a Paul Klee mobile...
and past a gate post with odd eyes and in need of a shave.
And there it is - the message of the run. The myriad of experiences. Am I any closer to understanding me? I don't think so, but maybe I am a little closer to perceiving the richness of existence, and also being reminded to get away and look at the butterflies sometimes.
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