The Mill on the Hill

Most of us were desperate for an outlet (or outlets) as soon as we were struck by lockdown 1.0 back in the spring of 2020. Making bread like maniacs, emptying the shelves of flour and yeast, discovering walks in the local woods which we never knew existed, dusting off our ordnance survey maps, desperately erecting raised vegetable beds in our backyards. All partly in an attempt to live up to this whole other expectation that the moment was demanding from us. As if we healthcare professionals (and key workers and essential service providers and parents and teachers and carers and a million others) were not already doing enough!

Memes, media posts, virtual forums springing up to the point of exasperation. 

A pressure valve needing release. Exercise lovers (and for that matter haters) did not need much persuading. So, I somewhat grudgingly swapped my old trainers for a new pair and began to diligently clock my miles on Strava. Well, that was the easy part, the phone did it for me.

Back when the weather was still unforgiving, I started with some early morning walk-runs and soon became one of a host of familiar faces, the friendly dog walker, the rude (I assumed) man who has never smiled once in the eight years that our trails have crossed, and the alarming dodgers who would rather hop out of my way straight into oncoming traffic!

And when I started to get my momentum back, I rediscovered my favourite stretch. 

And with it my 'Mill on the Hill'.

And the new symbolism it began to form.

And the way it started to inspire my thinking.

Because the Mill on the Hill was not the halfway point of the stretch. Nor was it at the finish line. It was an awkward 'somewhere at the start, somewhere in between'. But in the morning sunlight it was always beautiful. By the time I got to it, I was already breathing heavily and wanting to stop.Yet strangely still looking forward to it. 

Much like life was, work was, and the state of the pandemic was, so was my beautiful Mill on the Hill when I took these pictures in September.

And as I ran I reflected...'We have continuously  worked so hard, stretching ourselves to our limits. But surely there is more to come yet?’ And... 'Is this really the peak of the pandemic, is this the 'mill on the hill'?' At times... ‘Once I get over this, it is all downhill', only to remind myself... 'This hill still isn't the halfway point, there's much more pushing ahead to do' 

Once close to the Mill on the Hill, I had a definite sense of fulfilment, and achievement, and also that genuine feeling of not being sure I could carry on, except that I still needed to. Because who quits in the middle of a trail, in the middle of a challenge, in the middle of pandemic?

There I was, having  to live up to expectations again, feeling the pressure. Feeling challenged by my own limitations and also accepting that it was okay to feel exhausted, to feel defeated at times. 

And I too, joined runners' communities, and online forums, doctor mums, charity runs. What an inspiration most have been! Never judging, always cheering on. Individual and collective tales of illnesses, challenges and adversities far far greater than I can ever imagine, or ever find myself capable of withstanding.

We ran through it all.

We all had our mills on the hills, sometimes just hills no mills, sometimes massive mountains.

And there is always a downhill. A long run still ahead.  And something else to look forward to. Perhaps a nice surprise after the corner.

Like the beautiful 'church around the bend'. And with it, a better summer this time.