Family, Fun, and a Bush Run

My family loves to run. During the winter we take turns pounding out a few kilometers on the treadmill every morning. During the spring and summer we get up early and go for a run along the bush track before breakfast. We also love to spend time together as a family. So what would be better than to go out on a run together as a family outing?

Shoes tied and water bottles in hand we headed out to try one of the local bush tracks. Together we walked from the car to the path. Together we set off. And together we hit the first hill. My muscles were already burning as we scrambled to the top and plunged down the other side. At the bottom we hit another steep hill. Up and down. Up and down. And up and down again. I puffed and panted, sweat rolling down my face as I worked hard not to fall behind. Somehow I kept up almost all the way to the end of the track.

At the end of the track it was time for triumphant photos, inspection of wounds where various family members had fallen over on the loose rocks, and a quick rest to catch our breaths. But then, we had to run all the way back. The track had led us deep into the bush, and our water bottles and picnic were 2.5km away, back at the car. I looked at the hills. I'd never make it all that way. 2.5km back, all up and down those hills again.

We split into two groups as we headed back. There was the slow but steady group, led by me, the tired, out of practice runner. And then there was the fast group, rapidly disappearing into the green of the bush way ahead of us. I looked round at my little group. 2.5km. We could do that together. I'd make sure of it. We set off after the quicker group, our tired feet carrying us steadily up and down the steep hills, heading ever closer towards the car, our drinks, and lunch.

"You can do it."

"Just a little bit further."

"You can make it to the top of the next rise."

"Careful, it's a bit slippery here. I'll help you."

My little team and I pushed each other up the hills, encouraging each other. I was tired, and my feet and legs hurt. But this was actually really fun. I had my team, and we were doing well. I looked around at my little group and had to grin. Even us really tired people were working hard and still going. No one said that they couldn't possibly run another step. And there was the end of the bush track and the concrete path back to the car. Why, we were almost there already.

"Ready?"

My team and I looked at each other. We grinned and nodded, then picked up the pace, sprinting past little old ladies, dogs, and children on bikes. Feet pounding, arms pumping, we flew towards the car, pulling up, puffing and panting. We collapsed on the grass, red faced, but triumphant. It might have been a long run, it might have been hard. I might have been a little out of practice. But we'd made it the whole way. I'd made it the whole way. And it was picnic time.

Looking around the picnic table not long after, I was very thankful. I had my family. I was fairly fit. And I'd had a whole day of fun. It might have been a tough run for me. But it was worth it to spend time with my family like this. Yes, I was very thankful indeed.

Yes I Can

I drag myself out of bed and down to the park with my sisters. I’m so tired. Maybe I could just do a little run. There’s no way I’m running 6km today. I can’t do that. Not when I’ve got a headache and I’m tired and everyone else seems to be running so much better than me. I’m not good enough> I can’t do this today.

Yes I can. Those words are magic. My feet feel lighter already. Yes, I can do this. The third kilometre is gone, and I’m heading up the fourth.  Yes, I am good enough to do this. The fifth kilometre is a memory in the past. Yes, I can make it to the end. I’m strong, I’m fast, I’m a runner. And there I am, six kilometres run.

Where is that headache now? Where’s that tiredness? Wasn’t I supposed to be heaving my leaden feet around the track, bewailing every moment I had to spend out here? Wasn’t I supposed to be the bad runner, who wasn’t as fit as everyone else? Where did all that go? Was it all in my imagination?

I grin at my family as we stride home, our heads held high. Yes, I did it. I can be proud now. Just thinking those three little words, ‘Yes I can’, what a change it makes. I know what to do next time I go running. Can I run as far as everyone else? Yes I can.

Running with Clouds of Butterflies

The sun shines down through the branches of the gum trees above me, not yet too hot to be unpleasant. The ground under my feet changes rapidly from sand to rock and back again. My shoes pound a steady rhythm on the earth. It's one of those mornings where it's a pleasure to get up early and run down the bush tracks with my family.

As I run in the rear of our running pack, I look forwards, between the shoulders of my sisters, to where the track is leading us. And all at once I see something unusual. A cloud of monarch butterflies hangs in the air, right in the centre of the track.

A few more paces is enough to bring us into the middle of this cloud. There are butterflies everywhere. They brush past my face, and dance between my flashing feet. They fly next to me, as if they too are out for a little exercise. Maybe they are out to stretch their wings. For a little way they keep pace with our group as we head through the bush, before finally falling behind.

The next day and the next, they are there, flying along the bush track like they've been waiting for us. Not always so many. Not always in the same place. But there are always some butterflies waiting there to greet us as we run. I look forward to seeing their small shapes flitting across the track as I pound towards them.

They won't always be there I know. When the weather turns cold, the butterflies will all disappear. Winter is too harsh for them. But I know that, come spring again, they'll be back, and this time, we'll be there to welcome them.

Back to the Bush

Throughout the winter my family and I have been running on out treadmill inside, while outside it's cold, often rainy, and certainly not nice weather to be out running in. And the treadmill has been good. We've enjoyed training on it.

But there came a nice day this week, where the sun was shining and the air, if not exactly warm, was at least not too cold. And we decided to venture out to have our first run in the bush since autumn.

I'd forgotten how it felt to run through the trees, with the sun warming you, and a breeze keeping you just cool enough. I'd forgotten how you breathed in the smells of the bush as you ran. I'd forgotten how distance didn't seem to matter when you were running with a group of sisters. And I'd forgotten how good it felt to be outside and running through the bush.

Running on a treadmill is great for keeping up your fitness during the cold months. It's good for running when it's too wet to go outside. But it still can't compare to running through the beauty of the bush, with your family around you. Somehow, running with other people around you just seems to complete the experience.

It's still not warm enough to do this every day. It's not light enough to resume getting up and running first thing in the morning either. But there the promise of more bush running to come. And I can wait, however impatiently, for the time when we'll be out there every day, running down out secret bush tracks.

Running and the Art of Perseverance

I have to confess, I haven't run in five weeks, due to injury and general laziness. And that means that the level of fitness I've worked so hard to build up has all but vanished. I struggle to make it past one kilometre. And it's very discouraging to be watching my sister and mum run 5km when I'm struggling so much.

It'd be so easy to give up, to say 'I can't do that.' I could just turn my back on running and forget even trying to build myself up again into a 5km runner. It's very tempting to do that. After all, it's going to be hard work. It's going to hurt. I couldn't go through all that getting fit again.

Well, those are my excuses anyway. So why am I back on the treadmill, persevering with running, puffing and sweating my way past 1km? Why am I bothering to try again? Because I want to run.

The key to perseverance for me seems to be to want to do it, to be willing to push past the hard beginnings to get to the good stuff beyond, whether that means getting on the treadmill every morning and struggling to run further each day, or writing through the difficult beginning parts of a novel. I want to be that 5km runner again. I want to finish that novel, and it's that want, that caring about getting to the end that pushes me on. This is why I persevere.

What make you persevere? Have you got any stories of times when you've persevered, even though it's been hard?

Winter Running

The cold weather has set in now, and the mornings are dark. For the Elvis Running team, this means no more early morning runs. It's just too cold and dark, even for us.

Does this mean the end of running until the warmer weather comes in spring, bringing light and motivation with it? No! The Elvis Running Team always has a plan up their sleeves. Our plan for Winter Running? Running indoors, on a treadmill.

It's very different from running outside. There's no beautiful scenery to look at as you fly (or pant) past. There's no fresh, cold, clear air, to suck into your tired lungs. There's no way anyone else can run with you, puffing out words of encouragement and promises of drinks breaks.

But, we can run. And it's warm. And I can finally start reclaiming some lost fitness after six weeks of being ill. And it means that we can run all the way through winter, right up until the warmer weather. Treadmill running is different, more solitary, but still good. It's all running.

Bush Track Running Under A Full Moon

There's a full moon hanging in the sky as we head down to the field for our morning run. The sun refuses to rise, hiding behind the trees and leaving us in half-dark.

Under the trees it's too dark to run. On a bush track covered in loose rocks, slimy, clingy mud and fallen branches, to run would be an accident in the making. No, we must walk, at least until we can see.

We string out in a long, straggly line, testing the track as we go. Have the puddles shrunk any? Which patches are muddy and slippery? Where do we have to detour?

By the time we reach the end of the first lap, the lazy sun is peeping at us. We can see the rocks at our feet. We can dodge the clawing branches.We can run.

Down the track we flash, leaping over branches, avoiding loose rocks, skirting puddles. We weave in and out of the trees, catching a flash of colour here and there as we see each other through the trees.

Someone falls. A moment later they're up and running again. Who cares about a few scrapes?

The sun has cleared the trees by the time we're ready to go home. Sweat soaked, sore footed, gasping for breath, but happy. Very happy. There's nothing quite like bush track running under a full moon.

Running Shoes

After my adventures in my Barefoot Running post, I was looking forwards to getting back to the safety of shoes. No more cold, wet, dirty feet. No more getting poked with sticks and pricked by bindies. No more worrying about whether someone might break a beer bottle in the grass. Yes, getting back to shoes would be good.

I walked out to the soccer field. My feet safely encased in my grubby old running shoes. How fast and far I would go in my shoes, now that my feet were comfortable.

Four laps later, I was starting to rethink the 'comfortable'. My arches shrieked in pain, cramping up and solidly refusing to run any further. I stumbled to a halt and plopped down on the ground, massaging my feet with my hands. This was terrible! I couldn't run like this

Off came the shoes. Off came the sodden socks. I stretched my feet. Ah, much better. The cool, damp grass was soothing for my poor, sore feet. In moment I felt I could run again.

I flew off round the field, leaving my socks and shoes to sit in the grass, lonely and abandoned. I couldn't go back to wearing them. Not when they hurt my feet so.

For the next few days I ran barefoot again, staying firmly away from the uncomfortable shoes. But I knew it couldn't go on like this forever. What about when winter came? I couldn't run barefoot then. What if I stood on something?

Yes, something had to be done. And something was done. Dad took me up to a big shoe shop where we were sure they'd be able to find us a pair of shoe to suit my feet.

From the moment we stepped into the shop I never stopped doubting we'd find the right shoes. The sales assistant measured my feet. Nice and routine. But then she led me over to a computer with a pressure pad. What would we do here?

What we did was take picked of my feet from a pressure point of view. She pointed out interesting features of my feet to Dad and I. Dad appeared to understand what she was talking about, but at times I was reduced to smiling and nodding. Maybe Dad could explain it to me later.

The most important thing was, she knew what shoes I needed. And when I tried on the high tech, super dooper awesome shoes, I knew that this was what I needed. I didn't need to try on the ordinary shoes that she offered me to know that I wouldn't like them.

We left the shop, shoe box in hand. How could I possibly wait until tomorrow to try out my new shoes? It couldn't possibly be done! But somehow it was.

The next day I strode out to the soccer field, my bright, white, new shoes on my feet. And I set off running, feet comfortable, dry, warm, happy. A runner with her running shoes at last.

Barefoot Running

It started with a bee sting and a swollen heel, a heel that did not like shoes. The moment it touched a shoe, it itched and tingled in protest.

For every day life, this wasn’t too bad for me. I could manage without going out. But what about running? Maybe I could bear the itching and tingling for running. Well, I could start small and try walking.

After two laps of walking, it was clear this wasn’t going to work. My foot refused to behave, even for half an hour, even for walking. It seemed that I’d have to give up my beloved running until it healed.

I moped around sadly until Mum hit upon a bright idea. “Why don’t you run barefoot?” she suggested.

Barefoot? The idea had never occurred to me before. On thinking about it, I wasn’t sure I liked it. I could get something in my foot. The grass would be cold and wet. Besides, no one else in the family ran barefoot.

But then, if I didn’t run barefoot, I couldn’t run at all. And that would be too much to consider. No, I’d have to run barefoot, even if the grass was cold and wet, even if there were sticks. I’d rather run barefoot than miss running altogether.

On the way down to the field, my dreaded thongs flopping on my feet, I still wasn’t sure about this barefoot running thing. I might find it much harder than normal. But I’ll give it a go, just once.

Dropping my thongs off with the water bottles, I started my first lap. The wet grass bounced beneath my feet. I hardly felt the little sticks. I even avoided the snail, crawling slowly across my path.

I finished one lap, then another, and another. My feet didn’t care that they didn’t have any shoes to protect them. They just wanted to run and run. So run they did, lap after lap after lap. Bare feet weren’t a handicap, not when I ran as many laps as ever.

On the way home, thongs slapping against my cold, wet feet, I had to admit, running barefoot was something special. Just to feel the grass as you run, just to know that it’s only your feet hitting the ground, pushing you is amazing. Yes, I like running barefoot.

What will I do when my heel is better? Well, I think I'll go back to wearing shoes again. Nice as running with no shoes is, it's still cold and wet and dirty. But it can be done.

The Elvis Running Gang

There's a ground mist rising from the damp grass of the soccer fields. Six pairs of running shoes pound the grass flat. Six sweat shirts lie abandoned in a heap, tangled among numerous drink bottles.

Who is out in the field at 6:20? It's the Elvis Running Gang, comprised of six determined, dedicated members.

Since my last post on running, our early morning running squad has increased by four members. Dad joined first, followed by Mum and the two little girls. Now the six of us pound round the track every morning, straining to beat our last records, to run one more lap.

Every morning I get up, feed the cats, and wake everyone up. Then we all head out to the field, our running gear on, drink bottles clutched in our hands. People coming down to the park would think we're crazy, the Elvis running gang.

Sometimes other people join us in our crazy, early morning endeavour. When there's two extra people and a dog, the field is quite busy. Positively a rush hour.

But we never worry about the rest of the early morning risers. They do their thing, we do ours. And we never miss a morning run. Even when one or two people take a break, the Elvis Running Gang is always out and about early.

Running with the Elvis Running Gang is the best way I've found yet of persevering with exercise. There's always amusement. Can I beat my own record? Can I catch and pass someone? How long can we run for? And there's always breakfast waiting at the end of running.

We're the Elvis Running Gang!

Crazy Runner

I crack one sleepy eye open and glance blearily at my bedside clock. 6:10. Too early to be awake yet. I snuggle further under the blankets. Mm, it’s nice in here.

In the bottom bunk, Charlotte humps around, sounding like there’s a baby whale tangled in the blankets. The mattress squeaks and groans as she sits up, then her feet hit the floor.

My eye snaps shut. I know what comes next. Maybe, just maybe she’ll forget about me if I’m asleep. I know she’s watching me. Is she fooled?

“Imogen? Do you want to go for a run?”

Apparently she’s not fooled. My eye inches open again. If I grumble and moan, maybe she’ll let me off. This bed’s too nice to leave now. I need another half an hour at least to really appreciate it.

“Can I take the bed with me?” I ask. Hey, that wasn’t what I meant to say. I don’t really want to get up and exercise. I want to stay here.

My feet thump to the floor. In my head I’m still in my nice warm bed, even though the rest of me is getting into my running gear. Is it possible to tie shoelaces with your eyes shut?

The moment I step outside the door, I snap out of bed and back into reality.

“It’s freezing out here!” I’m shivering already and we haven’t even left the doorstep yet. By the time we reach the soccer field I can’t wait to get running. I should have brought my bed, or even a quilt. Anything to keep me warm. Can you run in a quilt? I’m sure I could find a way.

“Hey, you’re running faster than normal,” Charlotte complains. She huffs and puffs like a little steam train.

“That’s because I’m cold.” I don’t slow down. She can keep up or get left behind. It’s her fault I’m out here in the cold.

Halfway through the second lap Charlotte slows to a walk. Bother, I was just getting used to running. Couldn’t she keep going for just a little longer?

“Go on,” she tells me. “Keep running.”

That’s all I need. I’m off again. My feet hit the ground, thud, thud, thud, pounding out a steady rhythm. My lungs heave in huge breaths of fresh, cold air. Hey, this isn’t as bad as I thought it was. Was that really another lap? I don’t want to walk yet.

A black and white collie attempts to tackle me as I run past, dragging its owner through the grass. In the middle of the field a boxing lesson starts. More crazy people like me.

It’s still cold out here, but I’m nice and warm. I’m not tired at all. I could run for hours and hours…

Maybe not. Suddenly exhaustion catches up with me and claims a piggy back. All I want now is a drink and a rest. Mmm, breakfast sounds good too.

I reach the end of the lap. Charlotte hands me my water bottle and we start back to the house. We grin at each other. A whole day ahead of us and the run is done. See that wasn’t so bad. I might even like this idea. Until tomorrow that is…