July 2023 in Review - Peckham Pacers

It was Sunday and I pulled myself down the road for a coffee.

Go'on then. And a cookie.

Was feeling restless. Out of place. Belonging to no one, seeking belonging. Longing.

And looking, actively, as is my habit when I feel lost. To go out looking. Seeking. Some sort of self-possession? Possessions, belongings. Some purchase on this feeling.

Found myself chatting to the barista.

I've seen runners in the window at night. Wondered. Was wondering...Oh, it's the manager, Kurt, it's his thing, this running club.

Free? Yes.

Open? For anyone.

Speed? Don't worry about it.

Can I? We'll see you there.

You will.

They did.

Me stepping into this sitcom soundness, this sweat-wicking sanctuary. Hey Tom, hi Lisa.

I'm tracking up to Dulwich in a pack, a pack of 25 strangers. And I'm right there in their midst. Embraced. Feet striking in unison. In twos and three's I'm finding my pace. A place.

I don't know where the distance went. And we're back at the coffee shop, sweaty, satiated and I'm spilling over with collective spirit. Strange simplicity. Running not for itself, but as this great big beautiful excuse. To run into everything.