The Russian composers are excellent company. I figure if they could write those glorious melodies in the midst of such horror and strife, I can get to the top of the hill. The finale of the 1812 overture kicked in just in time and it was a fabulous run indeed. Today was a good day in the land of Gregory and Naomi. Moving countries is not just stamps in your passport and duty-free alcohol. It’s a whole lot of uncertainty and anxiety, and however anticipated, it can still get you down. Yesterday was one of those days. Still, we put on our shoes, headed out in different directions and came back from our runs feeling all the better for it.
Today was much improved. Gregory had a great interview and lined another one up for tomorrow, and I had a couple of leads with my performing and writing. We strapped on our shoes, and where yesterday’s run bolstered our bruised and fragile egos, today our self-esteem matched us stride for stride. Running is funny like that; picks you up when you’re down and carries you higher when you’re already there. At least that’s what I does for me.
It occurs to me that there are many parallels between a performer and a chef. The hours are terrible - the pay is too (until you climb rather significantly up the ladder). The environment is intense, the employers transitory and only those with passion and strength of spirit survive. Even the way we get jobs is similar. Since both of us have ‘practical’ rather than theoretical professions, once we’ve met with the employers we then have to prove our worth. Gregory takes his knives and chef jacket and spends a night in the kitchen, and I sing, dance and act in front of a panel of strangers until – hopefully – I am the last one standing.
And that’s where running is my therapy, my anti-anxiety pill, my chamomile tea. But better than all of those, it’s free.
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