Sundays Later

There was a sharp cold light from a stunning sunrise, dry and super cold as I opened the back door stood there in my oversized shirt, still drowsy and not quite awake yet. I put on a sweater hoodie and gloves which was handy given the pale pink nail varnish I’d left on the night before that I couldn’t be bother to remove right away. I pulled at and snapped the plastic cord from the label hanging on a pair on new legging I’d bought before Christmas but hasn’t got to use yet. I had of course tried them on when they arrived, even though they were exactly the same design and size as the ones I’d bought the month before, just in a different colour. The option to send them back now diminished and ownership solidified.

The beginning of a new year and I’d actually got up and gone running. It wasn’t a chore though, it was just something I needed to carrying on doing but hopefully be able to do more often. A good start to the year but also a good start to the day. The thing is I want to make sure I have the reasons to continue going, other than just keeping fit, keeping weight off, the excuse to wear my exercise clothes and new leggings. With running you get to meet people. Even if it’s just a passing hello it’s contact. There are running events where you get to socialise but I want to be, once again, fit enough that it feels good to run and not an extra effort once a week or even a month just to share chats and a coffee after. I need to combine these things, a recipe to feel good and interact all in one.

With my body refreshed and new leggings run-in if you like I wanted to keep the day going. I travelled down to the city, browsed the shops, which I’d not done in a very long time, and get some cafe time in. I had a list of things I wanted to look at and may be even buy. Within 2 hours I realised that the only thing I’d bought were the batteries I needed for the clock and that was it. I’d fallen into that retail therapy trap. Walking through shops and looking for something to buy for the sake of buying.

I’d been through my list, one of the large department stores had the things I wanted to look at on the shelves but little stock of actual items to buy and the New Year sales were gone within days of the turn of the year. The jeans I wanted weren’t in stock either. A pair of grey skinnies that I needed for everyday wear. With all the things I wanted to buy dissolved that therapy trap had me in it’s aim. I remembered from the past though. I didn’t want to impulse buy that would end up filling my wardrobe with something I might barely get to wear or something that kinda-sorta-fitted but didn’t fit. I resisted looking at that top that appealed on first glance but in reality I didn’t really want or love in anyway, it was just different and that’s why it caught my eye. Buyers remorse.

I thought I’d get a seat in Starbucks, watch the people walking by between reading a chapter of a book I had for Christmas. If you remember I said about not buying that self-help book before Christmas just incase in the unlikely chance I was gifted one – I was gifted one. Much like those fingerless mitts I bought before Christmas that I fell in love with and wanted for some time but worried that someone might buy some, but it wouldn’t matter as two pairs would be great – I was gifted another pair.

Starbucks was full though. Well, it wasn’t full, in fact the queue consisted of one person and every-other seat in the cafe was empty but with the covid restrictions it meant the limited seating put a hard end to my dreams of people watching over a hot drink. In fact it wouldn’t have mattered if I had been able to get in because the view down the high street was a desolate one. A working weekday and the pedestrianised city centre was post-apocalyptic.

I decided to end my day in the city in one last ditch attempt at control of my day. I popped in one last store to look at something for the kitchen but no intentions of buying. I recognised that any purchase that day would have been for the sake of purchase whether gender-thing related or not.

I returned home, pulled the curtains in the living room as wide open as possible with a view out into the street. Sat a coffee on the small table and sat in front a book and just did it at home instead. I think more people walked by the house than they did the cafe in the city.

The Sunday a few days later I woke to a similar day. Cold and crisp but not with the winter sun but a grey winter light. I felt like another run. Another chance to run again, and another chance to wear those fab new leggings, but I wanted a long run somewhere refreshing. I could head to the forests and run there or up into the hills or even the mountains that aren’t too far away. No, the beach. I wanted that drama that you get there in the winter and I wasn’t disappointed.

Stormy contrasting looking clouds in the distance but without threat of coming to anything. Gushing white froth on ocean-like waves coming into the beach and a flat sand still with a thin coating of sea water resting on the surface that splattered aside as my running shoes hit the surface.

It was perfect for what I needed that day. A chance to be me for a while and to get some sea air into my lungs. I ran a few miles of the wild beach. Enough people dotted around in the distance to not feel too alone but the extremes of open space enough to feel I owned the beach. Like always, possibly something to do with overdosing on oxygen everything felt very clear in my head and if there is one good start to a new year is knowing clear thoughts feel right.

Until next time.

Hannah x