Today I ran. Running has always been terrifying to me - blissful ignorance of my body's strength and failings, of my success not as a social human being but a natural entity, has been the state of affairs for some time now. The gym, with its comforting numerical analysis of my physicality, doesn't count; arriving in a car to be faced with a television and cocooned by stationary machinery is the safe option. But today, two miles of road opened up the skies. There is something inherently satisfying about propelling yourself to a destination using only your own strength and will - especially when amidst lush fields and mountains, accompanied by Grieg . It was an experience of joy and pain; I have never been so glad to return to my front door, and flying through the house to the back garden I stripped off my top layer and lay on the ground, watching the clouds as Vivaldi streamed through my headphones. I felt elated, heart pounding, and glad to be alive.
Reading is much like running: uphill exertion is balanced by a sense of beauty and, on occasion, accomplished with soaring ease. I finished Economics, by Partha Dasgupta, as a pre-Oxford exercise, which seemed not arduous but perhaps a bit of a slog: the proliferation of obvious statements, already understood arguments, and the kind of quasi-verbalised maths which I find difficult to retain, meant that end of the 'very short introduction' came as a relief. However, starting on American Politics and Society by David Mackay has been akin to racing downhill: a continuing American fascination stemming from five days in New York a few years ago makes this easy reading, and a stimulation for further interest in the States which will no doubt be enhanced come October. It feels like I'm ready to take on this new life.
More to follow
Luce.
