Waves gushing against the manufactured coastal protective rocks and a breeze as constant as the passage of time blew away days of pollen from my eyes. Even though the sun was still shining bright and hard with heat the sea air had blown away as much of my soggy head as it could. It was medicinal and even though this was just a walk to the cafe to get some ‘work’ done on the laptop, I really felt like staying and sitting on this rock all day just watching the white sea foam wash the rocks and the cormorantsdive into the sea and pull out lunch in a twentieth of the time it would take one of the fishermen on the harbour wall.
I’d brought my own salad lunch of mixed leaves in a box with Spanish omelette quarter on top, ham and a drizzle of olive oil. I found a spot, sat and eat my lunch with the drama of the sea in front. It felt good that I could do this and I imagined how I would do this sort of thing if I lived along the Mediterranean, lunch watching the sea and running in the morning along the coast. If I would do that if I was there then why don’t I do that here?
We’ve been truly and sort ofseasonally lucky with our heat wave early summer in the UK these last few weeks and I’ve been easily duped into feeling I can enjoy this sort of moment whenever I want. The problem, I am expecting, is that in a week or so we’ll have a few rainy days and the temperature will drop and things will feel just a little cooler and greyer. I’m not saying there aren’t times where I can sit in the back doorway of the house or in a cafe and watch and listen to the rain – but those times I want to do that are fewer than the days of blue skies and warmth. Blue is the natural anti-depressant, grey is the influencer and fuel of deeper thoughts.
The other part of the illusion is that my current ad-hoc work schedule leaves me with a lot of time during day-light hours where I can don’t have the rush to get ready for a daily commute let alone time to fit in a morning run along the sea thats half an hour away. In fact without some serious motivation I’m unlikely to be able to go wake, run locally, shower, commute, work. The temporary job, as defined by me, is just that; it’s a means to an end and the end will come soon as I mustmove on to survive financially. If and when the regular nine to five thirty returns then time in the morning to take in sea air before a days work will vanish; unless I relocate to the expensive sea-side locations and become financially and spatially less well-off.
Once I had finished my salad lunch and a few extra minutes of taking in just how amazing the sea was at reviving me I continued onwards to the cafe. With a free voucher for a latte I was soon on a financially frugal office consisting of a round metal table, a cigarette ash tray with an ash dune sprinkled with stubbed cigarette ends that I deployed with grace to a vacant table. Coffee cup down with a metallic clang and a near full laptop battery I worked on my own project happily and willingly. Whether the sea moment had given me fresh motivational head or that I was just more free of pollen near the water I don’t know – but it worked.
Battling these little things that bother me, like finding ways to take time out and destress before the stress starts, seems to be working. Free of my injury at the start of the year I am still running and that Saturday running event is something I feel I live for, both the elation and the friendly chat from others who are also experiencing the same endorphin rush whether they are at the back of the run or one of the insane people who practically sprintthe whole five kilometres.
I grabbed a photo someone had taken of me during the run. It had been so hot, even at that time of the morning, and my skin was glossy wet so much so that you could probably measure it in millimetres. I posted it to Instagram where I share like-minded thoughts with other runners from all around the world. Within a minute I had a few random ‘likes’ from other runners and then from a women’s 5K running training group out in Hong Kong. I smiled to myself for a moment. It was a ‘like’ from a group hoping to entice another runner along but they had mistaken my photo, which I suppose is kind of androgynous.
The thing was I thought the misgendered but correct genderedscenario didn’t amuse or validate me anymore but I suppose the truth of it is, it still does. What’s more validating than the narcissistic posting of my photos on social media and getting misgendered but correct gendered; it hadn’t been the first time. I suppose it’s all down to as I progress with the gender thingthat the validation need dissipates as we feel more genuine internally and more accepted by others. It’s just there will be times where I still need a little validation from time to time; who doesn’t, gender identity or not.
At the end of the run someone approached me with a bright smile, “Hiya, how are you doing, how did you do?” A friend of a friend that I had met once several weeks before. As we chatted in the shade to avoid any further heat and sweat still dripping from our arms I couldn’t help notice that every few words he would flicker a glance at my legs. It was as if he was fighting between looking and not looking. My legs without hair with my now summer running shorts. I guess with those who don’t know about the gender thingand are who are only aware of my birth gender there is an idle curiosity to what is going on – even if just for a split second.
Until next time.