A spring in us all at last

It’s 6.45am on a Friday morning. The room is brighter than normal, there is light. I hear no wind or rain. The birds are singing, the lambs are maaing, the dog is barking, the world is awake… earlier. I quickly and quietly go downstairs. Every day this week I have gotten wet, soaked or covered in dirt, running through puddles that developed into floods. Some days its hammering, some days its humid, some days it's refreshing, but I am well fed up of rain.

This winter has seemed particularly long. You get used to it though and get into a routine of always bringing a rain jacket, cap and change of clothes. just in case.

Yesterday I ran through a flood of water, up to my ankles, as the lough had burst out onto the road. Of course, I was rushing back and to avoid it I would have had to run another three miles, so it was straight through; there’s something refreshing about running straight through a freezing cold flood of water in humid rain, the feet now soaked but the body cool.

Squelch, the runners are still wet from yesterday so the old ones go on instead. The body naturally follows the same routine, long socks, long sleeves, rain jacket and cap. On stepping outside, it’s already bright, it’s a real fresh morning, I reduce a layer.

I’m heading off on my normal route but today it feels very different; no head torch needed, a dry fresh air, the sky brightens my way. Running in springtime in Ireland feels like being quietly welcomed back into the world after winter has loosened its grip. I meet the shepherd having another round of checking done, caring for his flock, it never ends this time of the year. With spring lambs, the weather has been conspiring against nature. He tells me an early start was had but all is well.

As I move briskly down the road, past the green fields, I notice a good growth of grass from all the rain, the bleating of the newborn spring lambs happily jumping out to pasture. I begin to think how wonderful nature really is when new life begins on a bright new day. It’s the caring, attention and minding that brings it all together. I do believe the farmer has a gift, an inherent love for the animals and the land; a knowledge learnt from out on the fields, passed down from generations. I now watch my son, being called out to help, having a smaller hand to deliver the lambs.

Bright yellow up ahead, the daffodils appearing, the sun beginning to rise. All these are simple natural moments that make us feel good, that make us look forward to a bright new day. The miles fly by on a morning like this – and the flood is now cleared from yesterday. I jump up on the ditch to avoid the potholes, the erosion from the harsh winter elements eroding parts of the boreen. The swans still sleep, the glistening of the sunrise on the water, the birds flapping over.

I begin to climb the hill, the first layer comes off; what a feeling of freedom, to let the arms flow free without any covering, the cap stuck inside the shorts, to feel a light breeze blow through my hair, that tiny bit of heat to be felt from the morning sun. Each mile feels lighter, as if the landscape itself is breathing again, and I am moving in time with it. Spring is finally here. The hill is conquered, I can see all around, the mountains are clear, a tiny Shetland pony stares at the passer by. Snowdrops on the passageway around the corner, the sightings get better as the morning unfolds.

Where life can sometimes capture you, where the busyness consumes you, where the mind and body become exhausted, where the dreariness can sometimes bring you down, the simplicity of life can transform you. I turn the corner for home, houses are brightening, cars are moving, people are getting ready for their day ahead. Today the busyness can slow a little, everything can wait, nothing needs to get done, there is no dreariness today only brightness.

Spring has reminded me that there is always light up ahead, sometimes we just need to go out to find it. The countryside changes almost daily. Hedgerows that were bare and sharp-edged in winter soften with new green leaves, dotted with white and yellow wildflowers. Fields glow brighter and the ground feels alive underfoot, birdsong cuts through the early morning quiet and trees stretch out their first leaves like cautious promises.

Well-being grows quietly in these moments. Stress softens. Your mind clears. The simple act of moving forward, surrounded by signs of growth and change, brings reassurance that progress doesn’t have to be dramatic – it can be steady, patient and kind. Running in an Irish spring isn’t about speed or distance; it’s about connection: to nature, to your body, and to a sense of balance that feels both earned and deeply natural.

The nature I learned about in primary school I observed today. The nature I experienced as a child I heard and saw, for this spring I plan to slow down and observe life's simplicities a bit more because they put the spring in my step. As I run into the driveway my cheeks flushed and breath calm, there’s a lingering feeling of gratitude – for the season, for the place and for the quiet joy of moving through it all, one step at a time. Enjoy the brighter days to come and leave the darkness behind.