I’m back. To me it means: I was forced to stop running for a while, I hated it, my body has been craving a run, neither bikes nor swimming water helped one bit, and I need to run. So when I’m back running again, the words “I’m back” signify a happy little victory.
This weekend my new running friend Sander and I explored the trails near the southern Dutch town of Vught. It was sweet. Sandy and soft. Sunny and cool. Quiet and light.
I’ve known this for a while now: running with a friend is different than any other way of sharing quality time. Dean Karnazes, speedy Eddie, superfast Chris, the amazing Cecile and Tomas and many other runners by my side have shown me how to run and chat, connecting in the movement. Maybe a running neurologist can explain to me one day why the brain opens itself the way it does while the body works in unison with a fellow runner in your footsteps, or leading the way.
In any event, to come back to running with a healed lower back on those trails —not far from the land my grandfather explored for years—was a gift on that sunny Dutch Sunday.