Getting
older
25 February, 2000
I run leaden-footed now, heavy slow strides, hearing my feet slap down onto the road — heel to toe, heel to toe. Slap, slap, slap. I'm conscious of my knees and my ankles, and how fragile they seem, and the twinges they give me when I break my stride on uneven ground. I feel my weight as I puff uphill, a slight burning in my chest as I start to pant.
I hate jogging!
But there was one night. I was 17. I was running most days, sometimes twice a day. I came second in our school's cross-country race. And this night I went out for a jog. It was dark, calm, cool. I just ran. Over roads I'd never ran before. Down from Johnsonville, the back way through to Churton Park. Then back up Glenside, and up over the hill to Newlands. I ran down to Nauraunga Gorge and along to Johnsonville again, and back up the hill to home. I ran at least an hour. I can still remember it vividly, how light I felt, how my legs could just keep moving so effortlessly.
I haven't captured that moment since.
Deb said yesterday in the car that it's been 10 years she's been in New Zealand now. Ten years. Almost in the blink of an eye.
Why does your life move faster as you grow older?
How do you decide what you recall of your life?