Today has been a challenge, to say the least. I’ve struggled to concentrate on work, and judging by the strange lack of emails and phone calls I’ve received, I’m not the only one.
I feel like I’ve been through the full gamut of emotions, from shock and disbelief to rage, via tears and gnawing unease about the future of Britain. I’m honestly not sure I can continue to live in a country that can make such a decision.
But anyway, I digress. The point I’m trying to make is that as I sat at my desk swinging wildly between utterly drained and full of energetic rage, the one thought I kept having was: ‘I need to go for a run’.
Physically, mentally, everything in me is crying out for the clear-headedness that can only be achieved by pounding up the road, along the railway line and into the park. Past robins, wrens, rabbits, the occasional fox and, of course, people. Many – most – of whom will have looked at the same evidence as me and reached the opposite conclusion about the country. I want to understand the unhappiness of those that voted to leave, those who really felt it was their best option. I don’t want to fight fear and rage with more fear and rage. I want to feel the physical tiredness that comes from a run; I want to sleep well; I want to wake up kinder.
Running can make us better people, that much I’m sure of.