Everyone gets bugs in winter. That wasn't my first sickly January and it won't be my last. What's different though this year is the impact it's had on other parts of life. I'll get to the point: I haven't been able to run. And it's doing my head in.

I love running. It feels weird to write that. I mean, I'm not a running fanatic by any measure. I haven't run a marathon or even a half marathon, like many of my apparently superhuman friends and acquaintances I see on Instagram amassing medals like they're going out of fashion. I've done some 10k events, but I'm more of a small time runner. I mainly just enjoy short 5-6k runs once or twice a week. 

It wasn't always thus. I'm a relatively recent convert to putting one foot in front of the other quickly as a hobby. Sure, I'd run before at various points in life, and even did a couple of 10k events years ago, but usually that's because I'd been peer-pressured into going by running enthusiasts around me who somehow seemed to enjoy it, and had just meekly acceded to their prompting with an attitude of "fine, if you insist, it can't do me any harm." No - this new era of running began last summer, and for the first time ever, it was my idea. 

You might wonder, what was it that suddenly gave me the running bug at 36 years of age? Could it be a midlife crisis? I think I'm a bit young for that, but I've certainly been targeted by algorithmically curated social media memes rudely suggesting I'm at an age where I either buy an sports car (guilty), find myself divorced (hmm), buy a mountain bike (nah) or start running. Maybe Meta knows me better than I know myself. But I actually think the truth is much simpler: at around 6pm on the 9th of July 2024, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass door of a bar in Toulouse called Le Pétit Voisin and thought (or possibly mouthed quietly) "I need to lose that paunch."

I'm very stubborn. It's both a weakness and a strength. So I knew I was going to do something. I always found gyms horrid places, and that was before the age of phone cameras and social media, so I summarily ruled out joining a gym. And I've never played team sports - my shy nature and scrawny demeanour as a child meant I was always picked last by the popular kids nominated by 90s PE teachers to choose their own teams for rugby and football. It just wasn't my forte, and they knew it was well as I did. So team sports were out too. "My" exercise was always going to be a more solitary activity. What more obvious choice than running?

By the end of November, I'd lost more than 10kg in weight from running. That's over a stone in old money. I felt physically great, despite all my clothes being a bit baggier and having to drill new holes in my belts. And it wasn't remotely difficult to achieve that. When you run, you feel good. When you feel good, you make good choices and eat well. When you eat well, you have energy to run. It's a positive loop that so many people are lacking in this rainy, silly country, and you can't blame them. But you can get into it if you are determined.

As I said earlier, I love running now. I never thought I'd say this, but I have missed it terribly this winter on account of being unwell. I've been boring the ears off family and friends telling them how much I want to go for a run. The things that running brings me are exactly what I need in the misery of a dark, wet midwinter: fresh air, time away from screens, and an escapist trance where I can either mull over the big things troubling me, or - better still - just concentrate on my breathing with an empty mind. And the secret that all runners share - that the fabled runner's high is actually real - is reason enough to get your trainers on and get out there. To say running improves your mental health is just obvious, like saying water is wet. I'm not saying it "cures" depression or the like. But I am saying it makes life lighter, in more ways than one.

I like running down the back road near where I live. I like running through the fields too, when the cows aren't occupying them (I've made that mistake and been chased - I'm sure I set a new PB in the 100m on that occasion). I like seeing my pointlessly detailed stats on Strava. And I even get a kick out of signing up for events. If you'd told me a year ago I'd willingly travel somewhere far away to run, and pay for the privilege, I'd laugh at you. But that's what I do now. 

Anyway, I have made my point. I've been too ill to run for ages; have lost my rhythm, feel down in the dumps, and can't wait to get back to it. I was ill in December too, and then in a flash was that prolonged feast of gluttony we call Christmas, so it's actually been two months since I last ran. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll remember how to do it. If the algorithm is right and my newfound passion does indeed mark the onset of an existential crisis (by the way, I sincerely hope 36 is not the midpoint of my life), then I can think of worse ways to mark such an occasion. But if it's nothing more complicated than a desire to get healthier and feel better, I would like to join the running evangelists in telling you to give it a try.