I have been treadmill running indoors, like a Shirley that’s too shy to feel the elements lashing my eyes and cheeks. But really, I have been running on the treadmill indoors because running on the road made me walk like an octogenarian. I could barely stand after my last 12K bash along the West Coast of Guernsey on Good Friday – that was my last outdoor run. It was dark, doomy and very, very rainy. The runner’s high at the end of that glorious 12K felt illegal.
Now, my little chicken drumstick legs pad along the treadmill to tunes like ‘Silence’ by Delerium. And I like it. I miss running outdoors, with my blonde (now long) hair down, like a lioness in a Madonna video. I miss feeling the seasons beat with and against my stamina, strength and speed… I’m like a treadmill Bohdi, chasing the high and getting mentally upside down and around in my own private treadmill trance.