December

[Sweder]

All the pieces fall into place
When we walk these fields
And I reach out to touch your face
This earthly heaven is enough for me

This Heaven, David Gilmour

Tonight I took to the dark, chilly pathways of Lewes; one last run for the year. My album of 2009 (released at the end of 2008), Live in Gdansk from the fabulous Mr David Gilmour, kept me company on this easy lamp-lit plod, the soothing guitar and gentle voices washing me through the narrow Sussex streets, past spangly revellers making their lusty way towards New Year oblivion. I spent the time thinking about the year past, cobbling together thoughts and feelings whilst looking forward to a fresh start, the new challenges that this turning decade offers.

A year that started so full of promise and hope for many hit a dark and rocky road for some. We kicked off 2009 with the annual RC AGM in Almeria without our beloved leader. El Gordo bade farewell to his Mother, a duty we all dread yet must face at some time in our lives. Then, against a wave of desperate hope, our good friend Moyleman was cruelly taken from us.

For a while, for me at least, the good ship Running Ambition floundered in troubled seas, eventually striking a metaphorical iceberg (ironically) in the warmth of late spring. Motivation holed below the water-line I found a myriad of reasons not to venture out. I must have unconsciously sent out a few thinly-disguised distress flares, for out of the dark came a rescue party, the MV RC Community, my very own Carpathia steaming in to pluck me from the icy waters of despond.

Together with Camilla, Chris's redoubtable, tenacious sister, the good people here conspired to lift my spirits and renew my purpose, wrapping my frozen running compulsion in the warming blankets of encouragement and inspiration. El Gordo cried havoc and let slip the dogs of war in the unforgiving Boston hills, raising money for JDRF (for which I've yet to thank him properly) after facing considerable challenges of his own. Commemorative runs, like downland Sirens, lured me out. Seaford Half and Bewl Water offered the perfect platform to pay suitably rugged tribute to Moyleman. Then, one by one, team RC emerged; Dan with his madcap plans to recreate King Kong on the crowded streets of London; Bierzo Baggie, himself no stranger to personal tragedy in this, our annus horribilis, returning to the crazy Ponferrada trails; Glaconman renewing his vows with the fells and dales of the wild northwest; MLCMan taking on the sizzling heat of a brutal Australian summer ... on and on they came, each one reminding me that whilst we face our personal demons, together, here in our virtual clubhouse, we're stronger.

Now, fully engaged with running life once more, I look ahead to the new year with a heart full of hope and the excited tingle of revived ambition dancing in my toes. Here's to you good friends; wishing you all good health, happiness and miles and miles of running joy for the year to come.

I'll see you on the road.