The running me that is. An exhilarating 6 miles in the wind and drizzle this morning tells me I'm truly on top form again.
Us runners often talk about "good" and "bad" runs. Usually we mean that we didn't go as fast as we wanted to or that we didn't cover the distance we planned to. And often we blame the conditions - external and internal - for our "bad" runs.
The weather is a big one. It can be too hot. And it can be too cold. No one reading this will want to hear my mile-by-mile account of the 1996 Great North Run (especially those who've been on the receiving end of it before). This run tops my list of all-time "bad" runs. And one of the things I've droned on about on the many occasions I've told this story, is the weather conditions. In the interests of brevity, I'll stick with mile 13 here, during which the wind whipped across from the North Sea almost horizontally, stinging my arms and legs with hail. It was a bad end to a bad race. This morning's wind and rain (not as strong in London as elsewhere in the UK but still pretty wild) didn't look like the best conditions for a run.
Another thing I've often blamed for "bad" runs is the self-inflicted one of drinking too much wine the night before. It's something I've done many a time over the last 37 years. Including last night. Having accidentally done dry January as a result of this virus, last night I unwisely drank four glasses of red wine. "Ah! It'll be fine I thought," as I ordered one for the road - my brain probably not making the best morning-after decisions by this stage.
Another enemy of the "good" run is the bad night's sleep. Yesterday I had a great day out in Canterbury with my cousin, Gill, with dinner in the wonderful Crab and Winkle restaurant in Whitstable. I boarded the 21:30 train with a two-and-a-half hour journey ahead of me. I got to bed after midnight. Probably not as late as the couple who failed to board the train at all because they got carried away dancing to their Stevie Wonder playlist on the platform, but late enough. Regardless of when I go to bed, I wake up early. So I was facing the triple whammy of not enough sleep, too much alcohol and adverse weather conditions.
But I loved every second of this morning's run. Me and the wind weren't always going in the same direction. But that didn't matter. Being in it was exhilarating. The enjoyment was added to by exchanging smiles with other runners who were sharing the experience. Laughing with dog walkers at the sheer madness of being out there on such a day. Going into a fit of giggles with a girl walking towards me along the Uxbridge Road - the wind propelling her forwards and pushing me back. An enormous gust left my legs still going up and down without progressing in any direction at all, while doubling her progress towards her destination.
Over the many years I've been running, I've put "bad" runs down to all manner of things: crap weather, inappropriate food and drink consumption, skimping on the warm up stretches, not drinking enough water, the hilly bit coming at the end. And even being trailed round the track by that really annoying runner in yellow lycra who wants to chat about how tight his butt cheeks are. The run I've just done was nowhere near the speed I was running at a couple of years back. Nor anywhere near the distance I was doing a few weeks ago. But it was more than good - it was exhilarating. And if I define a good run as a fun run, the conditions don't matter. The only thing that does is my mental state - who I am today.