Running away or towards?

This morning was the first morning that I felt back to 'normal' - well, my version of normal- since the riots and looting happened at my future stopover at the coast. I slept quite heavy and woke up feeling clear enough to get creative with my daily skit. Putting a wig on and a fake accent can be a good tonic for my soul. But running is like my thought straightener. It was overcast and icy but I was ready to run.

Before and after..

While I was running sluggishly round the streets, I had a flash of memory of a run last week when I thought 'I will soon be running at the seaside...'.

Alas, I don't think I will get there this year but I wasn't too disappointed strangely enough.

I ran quite mindlessly, and simply noticed when I needed to cover my lips from the icy breeze, the dogs, the chickens who had huddled down in the schoolyard in a patch of sketchy sunshine, the feral cat waiting for it's 'home delivery' - some angel who feeds them from the boot of her car and lastly the spaza shop guy who actually greeted me this time.

Life goes on albeit a bit quieter, in this Johannesburg suburb.

I was once asked by a TV colleague when I first started running, what was I running away from. I didn't answer him immediately but I got my own answer years later.

Every run always ends with me going home.

Sometimes it's running towards something and not running from...