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I know I’ve written about this before. To begin again.

Today I begin again.

It would have been good to write that I had a blast of a run and I set the road on fire. But this wasn’t the case. It was simply good to be out in familiar territory – the roads around Nehru Park – and isn’t that in itself enough?

The young boy and I started at our usual time at the usual spot and he finished a strong ten kilometres. Usually, when I carry on, I step on the gas and change the pace, accelerating almost through to the end of the run.

Today, I could run only at a comfortable and slow pace. In itself this was fine; my body wasn’t quite ready to go for it.

Perhaps I need to sign up for a summer race. A short distance would be ideal. Training for it even more so.

Today, I’m recuperating from the lack of sleep this week.

As much as I would have liked to go to track, I am simply drained.

A good night’s sleep should lend itself to a solid Sunday long run and the week ahead.

A long travel back from Italy means that there will be no run today and a very unlikely situation for a run tomorrow.

Once again, I didn’t sleep much and did not sleep well but I wanted a taste of the Venice run again.

This morning I had Giorgia and she immediately started at a fast pace.

Many of the cobbled and brick laid streets were repeated and many new bridges and alleyways added – although there would be no way I could trace back the routes of the two days.

The sunrise this morning was even more magical, the light shone a bright orange against the walls of buildings, the sun rising majestically from a calm sea.

I barely slept last night. That’s okay because it’s not often you get to wake up in Venice.

The run was booked with Alessandro at the fantastic Go Running Tours and we had the city to ourselves. The sky was turning colours as municipal workers swept the busy squares, boatful of Aperols and carts of bread unloaded outside charming cafés.

I lost count (not that I was really counting) of the dozens of bridges that we crossed. I would have imagined that it’s not easy to find rhythm in this kind of running but then it’s easy to find when you’ve got great company and a skyline built out of history and romance.

I mistook the cemetery for Giardini; the sun was above the sea just to my right.

The air was clear and crisp, Venice was rising to a beautiful day ahead.

The keys in my back pocket jangled like a metronome. The sky seemed to change colours slowly. Or perhaps because I ran slow, I had more time to look up. Clouds like striations streaked across a still morning.

Today is Ashtami. The track is relatively empty. I’m told by Coach Ravi the kids are all off for their pujas and rituals.

They are all good kids, I think later. Seemingly, their life seems to revolve around track and a strict routine.

If auspicious days are to mean anything, then from my heart, I wish them only peace and happiness.

Sometimes a rest day seems as if I could do with a bit more especially as mine lands on a Monday.

I love running long on Sunday so I wouldn’t change that but work week start on Monday means that the restdoesn’t filter to slow a manic start at work.

Though, it does give me a bit of morning time to myself. A slower coffee routine, maybe a few pages to read and of course tapping out notes and emails.

The young boy, Gokul and I ran a no-road-repeat loop to complete eight kilometres back at the car.

We played the airline game that the young boy loves – name the airline with last letter of the previous airline – this time including the ones that have closed down. Later in the day the young boy would ask me why so many airlines shut down. Indeed, why.

Just after, I ran with Shikha, picking up the pace for another similar loop before finishing the last five kilometres on my own.

It seemed like the roads and the park were busier than usual. The sun was obscured by a cloudy sky and occasionally a smattering of big drops fell adding an earth like smell to the air.

Perhaps it was the travel or maybe the push of the runs earlier in the week. Today’s intervals disintegrated very quickly.

I had to accept that and do best I could although the timing became laughable.

On the way back the young boy asked me if Usain Bolt could keep up with the speed of the car.

If we were going around forty kilometres an hour he might keep up for 100-200 meters, I replied.

What if the survival of the earth depended on him, he said.

I laughed. The things kids say.

What if I could think this way next time I have a bad day at the track or work. Would it change things? It’s worth keeping in mind at the very least.