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I didn’t mean to run; I really didn’t want to run; but all the same: I ran.
It was a short run, maybe no more than 30 metres, but my heart was pounding more than I’d like to admit, and not because of the distance, but because of my fear. I ran because it was dark, and yes, I ran because I was scared.
I stopped as I exited the mouth of the Spray Tunnel and laughed at myself for my irrational moment of fear of standing in a dark tunnel with sunshine on both sides, but inwardly I still felt that bit of fear inside me screaming that I couldn’t see those walls next to me and anything could have been there, it was that same little fear that was reminding me that I had to go back through the tunnel again to get back to my car.
I took a steadying breath, and determined this time to face my fear I stepped forth into the tunnel setting a nice steady pace. It was at most 80 metres to the other side. I got about 20 metres in and my eyes, blinded by the sunshine from outside again couldn’t see the walls around me and my fears, my imagination ran riot. For the second time, I ran. I ran all the way to the other end of the tunnel and again skidded to a stop as I launched out into the sunshine.
I smiled to myself, a smile of satisfaction, and then my smile seaped deep into my soul. I suddenly realised that I had run. For the first time this year, in fact on the very last day of the year, I had run, and not only hadn’t it hurt, it felt good. It felt really good.
I may have been running from my fears, but still, I ran.