You Can't Always Run Home
Running on the other side of the Atlantic and anxiety
I was homesick.
It had been a long time since I felt THIS homesick, but here I was in the first mile of a morning run, alone in London for a work trip, feeling like Ted Lasso with a jittery, anxious pang in my chest. I should’ve been enjoying my alone time in a city and country I don’t often visit. Yet, at that moment, the only thing I could think about was how much I missed home.
Don’t get me wrong, I was having a fantastic time in the UK. I hadn’t been since 2019, and when my boss told me we were having a last-minute meeting at our Oxford office, I was stoked. It’s a great country, and I’ve barely scratched the surface each time I’ve been there (which I think at this point is three times). This was going to be a treat, a little adventure just for me. After my meetings, I would head to Glasgow to visit friends, and then back down to London for two days of exploring on my own. Naturally, my first thought - after triangulating which pubs I would be visiting, of course - was to figure out where and when I was going to run.
In Oxford, after some long days debating sales forecasts and having meetings about future meetings, I forced myself to wake up early, determined to stretch my legs and explore the City of Dreaming Spires. I went downstairs to the hotel café, ate some sort of dry cereal bar thing that ad all the consistency and excitement of a slab of sawdust, and headed out. Because I was in Oxford, I put on Radiohead’s OK Computer for the run, thinking I would learn something about Thom Yorke as I ran through his hometown.
What I DID learn, however, is that apparently in the UK, people don’t keep their dogs on leashes. And the untethered dogs - as if direct descendants from British royalty - were extremely well-behaved. I don’t think any of them were even panting. There wasn’t a slobbery tongue in sight. They were just prancing along side their human companions, unbothered by any water fowl or mud puddle. The same could not be said for me. I was a hot mess, rushing the run a bit because I woke up late and had to get to the office at a certain time for meetings. I made sure to run on the left side of the trail, an unwritten rule that even the dogs seemed to obey. It felt like using a fork with my off-hand. My brain was all twisted, but I eventually got used to it and despite my diet of beer pints and pub grub, I had a pretty good run, not to mention “Karma Police” sounded slightly more ominous on a cloudy Oxford morning. All in all, not too shabby of a workout.
A few days later, I arrived in London, and that’s where I became homesick mid-run on an uncharacteristically beautiful British morning.
I was losing steam. I had been travelling up and down the UK for a week, feeling a tad out of my element and not FULLY confident of where I was going at each new destination. I felt lost and alone. The time-zone distance was not helping. I was 5,000 miles away from my wife who was in San Diego for a work trip of her own. She might as well have been on the moon. My watch and my heart was still set to Philadelphia time. I wanted to watch playoff hockey. I wanted a good slice of pizza. I wanted to shower using a wash cloth (which apparently they don’t believe in in the UK?). I was ready to go home, to be with my wife, to annoy spoil my cat with a massive amount of kisses, and to bask in the warm Spring sun we’ve been waiting all winter for.
There was a brief moment when I considered turning around to head back to the safety of my hotel room, but what was I going to do? It’s not like I could run home. Might as well take advantage of being where I was. I had been looking forward to running in Regent’s Park, which was about a mile away from where I was staying in King’s Cross. I had a job to do, and I’d be damned if I let my nervous brain get the best of me. Sometimes the only way to combat your anxieties is by pushing yourself forward.
I knew where I needed to go. It was pretty much a straight line down one road. The biggest challenge was reminding myself to look right first before crossing the busy London streets on my way to the park. Thankfully, the British roads are very considerate to us clueless pedestrians (i.e. Americans), the pavement painted with warnings to “Look Right. Look Left.” Yet, as I navigated the streets and my feelings, it felt like the park was never going to appear. I was scanning the area for landmarks that I saw on Google Maps earlier, but I recognized nothing.
That’s when I saw a fellow runner making his way down the road. I followed him. Surely, he knew what he was doing. He made a right down a stretch of apartments… ahem… flats that looked like they were straight out of Mary Poppins. I continued behind him when he made a sharp left across the street and into an opening that lead to Regents Park.
I made it, and man, it did not disappoint. It was huge! Its green horizon seemed to stretch on forever, an oasis of escape the claustrophobia of the busy London streets. Staying in stride, I navigated intricate interweaving paths through vast open fields. I ran among swaths of dog walkers and baby strollers, past blooming flowers and gentle fountains and ponds. For a brief moment, I forgot I was even running. I was not worrying about pace or checking my watch every mile. I let myself just… run, and soon, my anxieties were long washed away as I tried my best to soak in every moment of this perfect London morning.
Eventually I had to force myself to leave the park and made my way back to the hotel. I mean, I couldn’t run forever. After all, the pubs were waiting. As long as I’ve been running, I’m still amazed at how much of a difference a good run can make. During the home stretch, at the pace I was going I could’ve ran right through Platform 9 and 3/4 at Kings Cross without feeling a thing. By the time I got to my room, I felt renewed and refreshed, proud of myself for having powered through what started out as a precarious run. It turns out that sometimes pushing yourself is a good thing, and in the end I experienced one of the memorable runs I’ve had in a long time. I may not have been home yet, but I had made it to the other side of my anxieties unscathed. All I had to do was keep running.
IT KEEPS YOU RUNNING: Music for Your Miles
Music and running go hand-in-hand. Here’s what you should be putting on your running playlist this week.
The Youth Play - “After a Moment”
My first night in London, I made my way to Camden Town, which is a really great place to go if you enjoy a healthy dose of crowded food markets and punk rock people-watching. Where I’m from, Camden isn’t exactly the place to be on a Saturday night, but I heard if you wanted to hear some good local music, London’s version of Camden Town was the place to be. So, I made my to Camden Academy for a pint and some music. The place reminded me a lot of Philly’s Johnny Brendas - good beer and food on the first floor with a cozy, welcoming venue upstairs. As I made my way upstairs, I was welcomed to a band playing dreamy and shimmery shoegaze. That band is London’s The Youth Play, who just dropped a catchy new single “After a Moment” off their upcoming EP Wildflowers. The song is a great introduction to the band, who toil in the same dreamy wheelhouse as like-minded up-and-comers NewDad and Just Mustard. “After a Moment” should fit in quite nicely between My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive and The Cure on your playlists for those evening summer easy runs.
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Charlie Hall, Invisible Ink
Longtime readers of this blog will know that I love music I can get lost in on a run. When I’m looking for music to put on my running playlists, I’m not necessarily looking to get amped up (although a little PUP or Turnstile never hurt). Sometimes, I just need to zone out and forget about life for a few miles. It’s what makes a band like The War on Drugs so great for running. Their music is layered. It expands and envelopes around you. So, it’s no surprise that the music of Drugs drummer Charlie Hall’s hits the same way. His debut solo record, Invisible Ink, is an instrumental record that highlights Charlie’s strengths not just as a drummer but as a collaborator and creator of worlds. Songs like “Mystic, CT” and “Meet Me at Fagan’s” ride hypnotic grooves that will feel familiar to listeners who gravitate towards the WOD’s dreamer side (i.e. “Thinking of a Place”). Spend some time getting lost on your runs in Invisible Ink, just try to remember to watch where you’re going.
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Liquid Mike - S/T
Okay okay so maybe ambient, heady runs aren’t your thing. Maybe you need some fuel for that fire inside you. Maybe you’d rather run to BANGERZ only and nothing else. OR! maybe you need music not for your runs but for your car with the windows way down. Don’t worry fam, I got you. Look no further than Michigan’s finest power pop ass kickers Liquid Mike. They popped up on my Twitter feed a while ago, and thank god they did because in short, these guys rule. Their latest self-titled album (or is it actually titled S/T? We may never know…) is a fast, quick hit of pop/punk-spirited dopamine, clocking in at a swift 18 mins. Each song is a certified BANGER, even the synth interlude. You’ll want to keep this record on repeat this Summer.
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I’ve got lost in Regents Park once!! So vast...