Saturday, May 2, 2015

158900...

(... or, excuse the scuzzy aspect ratio of my phone camera.  I don't know what's up with this thing.)


That's the number of metres I've struggled, plodded, walked, you name it, since the beginning of this year, and believe you me, I felt every single one.  

The number looks set to diminish now that I've added swimming to my routine, but as long as I largely stick to the exercise-three-times-a-week New Year's resolution I set myself last December, I don't really mind.

Plodding was becoming pretty stale for awhile, though, and together with work, waking up so early in the morning and straggling along the roads at dawn was starting to exhaust me.  Moving changed all that.  Now I can pretty much run at any time that I like and Thomson is such a warren of little roads and interconnecting neighbourhoods that it'll be a long time before I get bored again.

Last week, I plodded a refreshing 5-point-something kilometres along newly rain-washed pavements scented by leaves and night air.  Today, I took one of my favourite detours in a 7.5 click route along Chancery Lane.  I don't mind running here, in part because I'm obsessed with houses.

I love looking at yards and gardens and façades old and new and planter boxes and swimming pools and swing sets as I plod.  I even love tall condominiums, glowing pillars in the gloaming.  I am especially fascinated by the double-storey plate glass of soaring light in the penthouses and the lives behind them.  So, running through estates means that it still feels tough, but I am rewarded by the sight of living and children playing and the sounds of distant dogs.

But the nostalgia these routes awaken is the biggest gift of all.  When I was just 16 years old and the whole family used to live in Thomson, I would take Chip out for long walks down Chancery Lane.  I remember being breathlessly, beautifully surprised by the empty stretches of field and old black-and-white houses with red doors.  Each lane we turned down was a fresh discovery and even now, just seeing those old road signs brings back the sound of Chip's claws clicking on the asphalt.

It's a wonderful feeling to see that so many of these houses are still there and look exactly the same and each detour makes me want to explore even more.

See, I guess I hate running, but I like getting somewhere.




2 comments:

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