the gentle constant rhythm

(This post is inspired by wet and wild October days at home in Mid Wales)

nine years old
back in school
pen to paper
scrawling stories
it was forbidden to end this way
i'm sorry teacher
now i cannot prevent
this unlikely turn of events

the gentle constant rhythm
raindrops
drumming on the window
an enchanting harmony
lulling me out of the door

the gentle constant rhythm
my feet
pitter patter
my hammering heart
allegro - the pace in my chest
 
a splash and a splosh
leaping oceans of puddles
the sea in my shoes
a stream
ebbing from my head
down to the very tip 
of my toes
dripping down my nose

red raw hands
sodden sticky clothes
a new layer of skin
where does the rain stop
and where do i begin

the gentle constant rhythm
a feeling
- blissfully alive

i'm sorry teacher
but for now this is true
there's nothing i can do

...
I woke up.
It was all a dream. 
...
The end.  

counting lengths, not days

I don't know how long ago I last went for a run. I'm not sure how many days it's been. A part of me finds this strange. Somehow without even trying, I've controlled and let go of the running obsessive person I am and I haven't measured how long it's been since I last put one foot in front of the other over and over. I could count and work it out but what would be the point really? A part of me doesn't actually want to know how many 24 hours has passed since I last did the thing I love. This not knowing means I'm just a little more free.

Yes, I'm once again injured. Maybe it's as bad... or maybe it's not as bad as this time last year… who knows. Just I'm not able to run at the moment. But you know, somehow it's actually kind of okay. It's not the end. I'm still me. The sun still shines. Life goes on. I'm still happy. And this is the most important thing.

Already I've forgotten what running actually feels like… the tired legs, the gasping for breath, the pure bliss found in this. The harmony in the connections between body and mind. I miss it. Of course I do.

Malonno 2018 - these are the good days

Taking a step back from running gives me a new perspective. I felt it last year and I feel it again now. Now. Perhaps more fully and with more understanding than ever before. There are other ways to fill the running shaped hole. Learning to love the in-betweens; appreciating where I am now. It's all part of the story. 

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🍁 holding onto the last drops of summer a new season is coming balancing lightly across the tightropes of time #dreamersdisease #midwalesmyway #newseason #autumn #findthelight

A post shared by Heidi Davies (@heididavies98) on Sep 23, 2018 at 11:34am PDT

And who knew it would take not running to understand how important self-love is. It's only now I've had to stop again that I'm faced with the easy truth; it's not so hard to accept - what's the point in being able to run fast if it's not sustainable? Strong foundations need to be built to survive the wildest storms. You need to give your body the strength to endure. It's a lesson I learnt last year. It's a lesson I accepted. It was a lesson I was ready to act upon. Nevertheless somehow it didn't happen. I got carried away with the dreams I had, the places I wanted to go and I didn't build the strong foundations I needed to endure. There's no one else I can blame but myself. It's not rocket science. But as so many athletes will know… it's so easy to get pulled along on the wave of trying to run fast, pushing your body too much and all too soon. It's only inevitable; pushing your body into the storm before the foundations are built will result in collapse. And so here we are again. Back to square one? Maybe, maybe not… Definitely back to giving my body what it wants and needs. I know now I can't not listen to my body. Foundations have to be built in order to sustain. Health is the most important thing.

So two autumns not being able to run. Not experiencing the crunch of leaves underfoot. Not seeing my exhalations creating dragons breath in the crisp morning air. Not feeling the change of the seasons on my skin as I run through the chilly autumn breeze in the golden sunlight. It hurts. Of course it hurts not being able to run. I feel it deeply. But what hurts most is the knowledge that I've done this to myself.  These autumn chapters are beginning to look kind of sedate but I'm grateful for the other chapters full of movement. It's the chapter of Malonno earlier this year that I hold especially dear to me now. I crave a life full of countless moving chapters. So I have to be sensible. I have to be mature and not so naive. I have to accept where I am and what I need to do to create these moving stories. Movement - without the breakage. That's the story I want to write. I know I hold my own pen.

A famous quote by Ernest Hemingway - “We're all broken; that's how the light gets in.” I'm learning to notice the little things. The moments and occasions where the light shines through. It all connects eventually; continually. A wander at sunset; watching the light of day fade away, slowly and then all at once. A smile and a kind word shared with a neighbour or a stranger in the street. A picnic. A road trip screaming along to Mamma Mia with your friends. A family meal. Homegrown parsnips, roasted to perfection. Laughter. A walk in the countryside with new people. Sharing dreams, sharing passions, sharing ideas: even from hundreds of miles away. The people that inspire you - the inspiration all around. Your favourite books. A simple sunrise - candy floss clouds. A cat's meow - the purr of comfort. The music you love and feel. The way you can just pick up your pen and let these thoughts escape you. The sky - so vast, full. Cooking with your Nan. The silence after rain. Helping a piano student grasp the concept of using all their fingers to dance across the keys of the instrument. All this, and more. Simple, yet significant. This is life. The mountains and the valleys are adventures alike.

something special about september sunsets

There are lessons interwoven through every part of life. I'm not counting the days since my last run. I'm feeling them. Somedays there's a whole ocean between where I am and where I want to be. Other days it's just a small stream, seemingly easy to cross with a small leap. Whatever happens I'm swimming through the challenge - staying afloat and enjoying the colourful fish I see on the journey. Because life is too short not to notice the things around you. I'm learning just to be where I am now. My dreams will wait. It's enough.

It's true… “don't count the days… make the days count”.

So observe the colourful fish… who knows when your eyes may just catch a glimpse of a rare mermaid.

With love and dreams,
Heidi xx

PS: I'd just like to say a big thank you to Justin & Judy at The Metropole Hotel here in Llandrindod Wells for their support and for the use of the Rock Spa pool facilities... I'm just going to keep swimming... counting lengths, not days