Looking back, I had always been a runner in some way. I was the kid at recess who sprinted back and forth on the field just for the joy of it. (Luke and Danny will appreciate that, after Dad read Jurassic Park to me, I used to pretend I was a velociraptor on the hunt. Surprisingly enough, I was not a particularly popular child.) I always ran the full set of laps on field day, and, err, I suppose I chased a few boys around the playground as well.
But then one day, Mom took me to the fitness club with her. Usually, we'd go inside for a few laps in the pool, but this time, for some reason, we went around back to a few jogging trails. Mom settled in for a brisk walk and said, "Why don't you run some, Holly?"
Off I went.
The girl who quit gymnastics and basketball, who dodged wiffleballs instead of catching them, who didn't learn to ride a two-wheeler until middle school, and who couldn't swim the crawl without drowning herself until last year... That girl had finally found something that would stick.
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| Let the record reflect that I outran this thunderstorm home. :) |
Fifteen years later, I'm still running. I've changed training programs, shoes, and MP3 playlists, but I still think that trotting around under one's own steam is the best way to see the country.
It's certainly also the best way to adapt to reversed traffic flows and to quickly learn one's way around a new town, as I learned when I lived in Halswell at the beginning of this year. But this time, much to my delight, I'm staying in Hoon Hay, just a couple blocks from runs that will take me up into the Port Hills along the southern end of Christchurch.
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| O'er hill and dale, past cow pastures and plantations... |
Not only does this mean workouts that will leave me in great shape to run the Presidio and Marin Headlands when I get back to San Francisco (provided I don't, say, grind my knees to dust on the descents), but it also affords a spectacular view of the surrounding country (read as: I can see the ocean from up there!).
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| Worsleys Road has some tight turns. Keep in mind that's a 25 kilometer-per-hour sign! The line of mountains in the distance is the Southern Alps range. |
On a clear day, you can see all the way to the Southern Alps in their snow-tipped glory. And on a stormy day, you can watch the clouds roll over the hills and drop patches of spring rain on the farmland. Plus, since the climb leaves me embarrassingly winded, I'm going slowly enough to have a good look around.
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| Taken right before all the sunlight vanished and I realized that the storm system to the left was actually moving towards me and had to book it back down the hill. Oops! |
Eventually, I hope to be fit enough to get up to the ridgeline and run on some of the tracks that overlook Governors Bay. And perhaps a weekend long run could take me all the way down the other side and back: Google Maps suggests that the as-the-crow-flies distance is only 4.5 miles each way. (Famous last words.)
But for now, most of my time is spent looking back. Back over the Canterbury plains. Back along the track I've just run up. Back over the bumpy ride that 2012 has been.
Christchurch has a way of putting all of that in perspective, though. Because when I look out across the plains and see the skyline of downtown, still being remolded by the aftermath of a series of devastating earthquakes, whatever stress and heartache the past year has brought me pales in comparison.
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| Seems like there are as many cranes as tall buildings left in downtown Christchurch these days... |
Christchurch -- and the people who are rebuilding it -- remind us that, however far we run, there will be a home to return to. Whatever shakes our foundation, we will rise again. And whatever our mother suggests is probably a good idea.
Oh wait, I learned that lesson years ago. :)
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