Running through life in my hometown

I grew up in a village near Winchester, and for the past few years my parents and siblings have lived in the city itself so I regularly return to this lovely part of Hampshire. When I go for a run here I'm reminded of University holidays and how I would always notice the difference in the air from chilly Edinburgh where every icy breath would burn your lungs. I also feel nostalgic for the paths around my old village where I first began running, and where if I close my eyes I could still trace every step of every road in my mind.

I remember I used to run a loop that was just one mile and went through a cow field. If there were cows in the middle of the field I would walk across so as not to scare the animals, and then I'd climb to the top of the gate at the other side to pause for a while and look at the view across the fields and where I could almost see into the house of a boy I knew. I remember another route that I was running once when I stumbled on a rickety bridge and gouged my hand on a rusty nail. I was 3 or 4 miles from home, feeling woozy from being winded and covered in blood. That is probably still my most dramatic run!

Being at home is making me look back at my life as a runner, and I realise with surprise that I've been doing some form of casual jogging/running for almost ten years, starting in my mid-teens (though I'm not including school cross-country as I didn't do that for enjoyment!). But what I don't remember is what made me go out for a run the very first time. I've always enjoyed exercise and occasionally did running or beep tests with my swimming club, but I can't for the life of me remember the first time I decided to lace up my PE shoes and go for a jog at home, without anyone telling me what to do.

I can however, pinpoint the moment when running became less of a casual thing and I began to think of myself as a runner, as this happened during my fourth year at Uni when I was training for the Great North Run. This event coincided with a period of life where I was feeling more 'grown-up' (i.e. drinking less!) and was also helping to run the cheerleading squad at Edinburgh, so was having a lot of fun but also working really hard and running seemed to help hold everything together. At this time I loved going for a run when I was visiting home and could run for miles on silent muddy footpaths thinking about my revision, or just lazily practising dance routines in my head whilst jogging along.

Now when I'm running at home the things I used to do when running sometimes come back to me, like a smell can conjure memories of a particular person. I suppose the same would happen walking around or sitting in an old friend's house, but it is often only when running that I get time to just daydream and let the memories flow, and feeling nostalgic for old runs really makes me feel like a proper runner!