What I talk about when I talk about running

I ran, for the first time after the injury, this afternoon for an hour.

It was damp everywhere. I don't feel like running down the riverbank as usual - the route is favourable in any other moment except a rainy day. I can't run in the woods either, very muddy. So a very unusual route has stood out: streets down Willowtree and reach the footbridge at Claypath, then I can decide whether to continue to the riverbank or run back. Nice.

It's all about running when you run. Not other philosophy such as mental courage or physical balance. I don't normally run with an iPod, I am annoyed enough keeping the sounds in the world off me - I need a sound which only comes from silence, but there isn't silence when the world is around. That's why I carry an iPod, and exactly why I don't carry it running as well. I don't need a sound when running. The noise of the world surround me and I feel the silence.

Isn't it great that you can't hear a sound when they are all around? Only when running, cycling and swimming can this happen to me.

Back to my route. Well it was a failure. I thought it was one way down with a couple of wind-backs but nevertheless there be only one direction. I have overestimated my ability in figuring out the English maze - blocks of standar-looking houses. It was very pleasant until Dean's Walk, followed by the second wind and... I found myself going back. I doubted it and went back to Dean's Walk, and I couldn't find a second way to get out of this crescent. If I continue, I will be either running around this 150 metre circle or returning to Willowtree.

Finally, I ran the bigger circle of Willowtree Avenue four times - and completed my 1-hour run at Churchill Street, opposite to The Shoes. Shame.

This was my first run during the past one month. An unsuccessful abmormal route was the poor theme - not dogs, not football, not secret garden, not bare foot in chilly water, not blossom, not dogs shit, not anything else like my run in the past. It was boring blocks of brick houses and noisy teenagers. Still, it was not unpleasant. I finished every metre with the presence of my mind, a mind concentrating on...running!

So there's no difference where I have passed.

Haruki Murakami has this peaceful mind but he is far too professional:P He could write a book and I only taste the joy myself, in a 'non-systematic' way.

- Bird.
- Yes lady?
- I can't see a thing.
- It's all in your mind.