Beth Moran

Writer, speaker, free range chick

Friday morning trickery

For the past couple of months, I`ve been going for a run every Friday morning in woods near where I live. Working at home means spending way too much time inside, so an hour weaving in and out of the trees, dodging butterflies, startling squirrels, often not seeing another person for miles at a time, is so good for me. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, spiritually too. Soaking up vitamin D, sucking in gasping lungfulls of fresh air. Cranking out endorphins. Thinking. Not thinking.

And still, every Friday when I wake up, there is this part of me that starts wheedling inside my brain: I`m too tired, I`m way to busy. My hayfever`s terrible today. I`ve been sat about too much this week to try running up hillsides. It`s too cold, too wet, too hot…

Don`t go. Stay in and do something more important.

So, like a patient mother with a cantankerous child, instead of responding with the truth: There is NOTHING I have to do more important than looking after my health, instead I try tricks and bribery:
Just go and see. Give it ten minutes. Walk if you have to. Walk if you want to! As little as you want to. Just get up, get out and give it a go.

And as soon as you want to, come home.

So, my lazy, comfort-loving, can`t be bothered self grudgingly agrees, even knowing the truth. That as soon as I`m out there, ducking in and out of sunshine and leaf-light, pounding my way to the top of the hill, scampering down alongside meadows stretching out far as I can see, I`m suddenly feeling alive, feeling glorious, and for that hour, feeling free of deadlines and emails and oughts and shoulds and musts. I run where my feet take me, in and out and up and down until I somehow end up back at the start again, 5, 6, 7 kilometres later.

And I give that silly part of me that thought an extra hour in front of my laptop would have been a better idea a pat on the head, “There, that wasn`t too bad now, was it?”

Sometimes we have to drag our sulky selves out of the door, whatever door that might be. Boot our lazy backsides out into this incredible world, for our own good. Use tricks and bribery if necessary. Find an hour, thirty minutes. Start with ten. Get up, get out and give it a go.