Running Into Spring

By Erin Deborah Waks

I found myself running, last week, along my familiar route. Except it didn’t feel quite so familiar. Because instead of the dreary, monotonous pave stones beneath my wet, tired and sore feet, I wanted to look up.

It’s a funny thing, British weather. We spend so much time moaning about how grey it is here, it almost seems to have become a good thing. As though by making light of it, by creating a humorous jape where we are the butt of the joke, we can pretend it doesn’t really bother us all that much.

But - and it’s a big but - the swathes of people filling up parks last weekend, the packed tables outside restaurants and bars, the general demeanour of T-shirt-clad citizens waltzing down the streets, without a care in the world, all hint at a reality that is really rather different.

So I kept running. Where I usually stop, at a convenient point along the Regent’s canal, I felt urged to push on. I continued, through Warwick Avenue, round Little Venice, up to Paddington. I circled back, jogging down the opposite side of the canal until I hit a certain mansion-lined street I so adore. Tired, out of breath and hot from the sun on my face, I turned my focus towards the next task: remain outside for as long as possible.

The heat on my skin was electric. I could see others felt the same way. I sourced myself an iced latte and a cookie and continued to stroll through the cherry blossom-lined streets of north west London, with no desire to do anything other than stay in the sun.

We’re simple creatures, really. Emotions are complex, and life gets hard. But when the early sparks of sun, spring, vitamin D, make their first appearance, all we really want to do is be outside.