It might sound strange to some but there were definitely a few years in my childhood where I didn’t really know I was blind. That is to say, the limitations and potential safety issues around having no sight were nowhere on my radar. During that time, I remember I ran about with friends; I knew my way to the playpark close to our house, I played hide and seek with the street kids, I climbed trees, fell over, ran into walls and ran across roads not really getting that cars wouldn’t stop for me.
Slowly, over time, and with my parents realising I had this blissful unawareness of danger, people gradually began to tame and restrict me. It was not their fault; free movement is obviously dangerous if you can’t see what is in front of you. Yet some free movement is necessary; I didn’t register exactly what it was that I was losing because losing that childish care free attitude meant realising I was different in the eyes of society. It meant learning to walk with a cane, it meant trying to look/act sighted as far as possible. It meant missing out on sport/PE to learn braille and other practical life skills. It was years later, that I discovered yoga, and realised how much tension I held in my body. As I learned the ashtanga yoga primary series I found freedom in a degree of free movement once again.
The muscle memory began to return, the soul memory did too tugging at my heart and reminding me of a time when I had once ran all on my own with the wind in my hair. A time that I wrote about here, a time when I ran all the way beyond the finish line at a school sports day. That was in the past though and wasn’t something I could ever get back … or was it?
Last Thursday and following our success at race for life, Isobel and I had agreed to meet up and train together. Isobel is a great coach; she planned to do some drills with me - working on strides, slow jogs and fast sprints. I needed this to build up my confidence and balance. As part of her post injury recovery, Isobel needed it too; so we were a perfect match.
On a quiet bank holiday morning, we headed over to the grassy football pitches a few mins from my house. The grass was firm enough to walk on, the pitches deserted owing to the holiday, the air cool and fresh. We did some slow jogs and slightly faster runs together. We worked on long strides and lunges, opening the knees and the hips. I was enjoying this, the movements similar to the yoga sequences with which I often begin my mornings. The soft, even grass was gentler on the feet and I enjoyed the feeling of boundless space and safety I felt around me.
Perhaps sensing this, Isobel casually said ‘why don’t you try some free running with me next to you? There are no obstacles here, no one else about, no trip hazards, what do you think?
That’s when I realised how wise Isobel was. I’d walked around this field with her several times by this point, I didn’t have to trust her word. I already knew the ground and she knew me. Her teaching/coaching instincts had got to the heart of something I didn’t even know I could still do, yet in that moment, it was all I wanted to do. I started to run, the wind blew over and through me. I smelled the dampness of the grass, breathed deep and ran, seeming to fly. Suddenly, having no sight was no barrier, in fact, I was seeing or feeling everything in HD; I was free flying and it felt brilliant.
After my first lap of the field, I just hugged Isobel; I didn’t have any words that came close to articulating what I felt. Reflecting on it now, it was just boundless joy, free, innocent and childlike. Yet there was nothing childish about it, because it was an adult, broken and bruised and blazing a trail. I was able to leave all my baggage at the end of the path and let go, be free, and fly over that grass. We covered a few more laps of the field as free runs even managing to work on turning technique. I improved my balance, and worked on use of my gaze point (yes, looking/facing where you are trying to go matters; even if you can’t see!) slowly my turns began to improve.
I came home that day, letting Isobel know she had made my day, and letting everyone else know it too. From the neighbour I caught while putting out my washing to Katy who met me for coffee later that day; everyone got the story.
In the days since, I’ve reflected deeply on why that day was so special. There are the obvious elements of feeling free, capturing the enthusiasm of free running I’d not known since my childhood, but there are other more subtle qualities too. I’ve written before about trusting my guides but perhaps I don’t focus enough on trusting my own abilities. Nik has got to know me intuitively; she often calls me out on my lack of self-belief and rightly so. Others can tell you what you are capable of; you can read and study and learn about running technique but ultimately, there must come a point when you believe you are a runner. When you trust your body and spirit to get you over the line. There is something else too, the element of surprise. By definition, surprise is just that, it is the joy of not knowing what is ahead. This can be naturally problematic if you can’t see (I don’t know there’s a tree ahead of me, I’d rather not face the surprise of running headlong into it!), but free running in this way gave me back that element of surprise and spontaneity, rather like you running out of your front door with no particular destination in mind.
While I won’t be able to free run my parkruns and races (for the safety of all involved!), I can find football fields, tracks and other safe spaces in which to keep enjoying this freedom. Not only that but as I capture more and more of it to memory, I can bring more and more of that free flying energy to my races. It can take both me and my guides to new heights and that’s when real magic can happen. So thank you Isobel for reading this blog and making something wonderful happen for me. Something that will benefit me and all of my guides, I absolutely loved learning to fly.
