Sunday Run (4)

Endomondo Running Workout

A really beautiful run; inevitably, since I have no sense of direction, I got lost in the back streets of Erskineville; green, cool and not as straight when you're on them as they appear on the map, but getting lost when you're running east in the early morning isn't really a problem because it's not that hard to run towards the sun. And so it proved; although I don't know the EW roads I do recognise all the major NS roads (Bourke, South Dowling, Anzac Parade) and eventually I knew where I was. Once on Alison St (which I have driven on maybe 100 times without knowing its name - this is Sydney, we don;t navigate by street name here) it's impossible not to end up at Coogee. The runner-friendly path involves turning right at Belmore St, which of course has no street sign (actually, it has one that says "Cook") so I missed it on the outward bound path, Belmore St being a relatively smooth gradient down to Coogee Bay Rd which continues relatively smoothly down to the beach. Alison St has multiple extremely steep up-and-downs; I almost had to walk down one hill to avoid the knees exploding.

For all that, the first moment when the sea becomes visible at the crest of one of the Alison St hills almost justifies the effort; in a second the amount of light seems to triple and the water is invisible behind the reflection. I guess if you live in this light all the time you get a little blasé about it - maybe only a little - but the contrast with the Inner West and the suddenness of its appearance on this route magnifies the impact. I can't imagine living in one of these beachside suburbs, because I like the Inner West a lot, particularly the rich Asian cultural layers, but running through this extraordinary morning light it's easy to understand the Sydney real estate problem.

Anyway, fifteen years in Sydney and I think I see a way to integrate the beach into my life. Not counting school excursions, that's probably only the fifth time I've visited a Sydney beach of my own free will in the fifteen years we've been here. Seems bizarre.

One of my favourite authors, Alan Garner (steer clear of Thursbitch, Strandloper & Red Shift until you've read at least three of his others) has a character in Stone Quartet who reminisces about walking from (near) Manchester to the ocean on a holiday during his stonemason's apprenticeship in (my guess) the early-to-mid nineteenth century. That's a long walk - about 100 km return, I think - but it's a great example of Garner's ability to do an enormous amount or narrative work with a very simple incident. The character only has a moment to stand on the sand before he has to return, but the incident captures his personality (determined, visionary), his world (strict, limited in opportunity and confined in space) and something of the power of the ocean as a force on the imagination: that it can both inspire such efforts and richly reward them. Imagine what it's like to see the sea for the first time as a young adult, to see it for five minutes and know that you will never see it again. And for the experience to reward you with it's unforgettableness.