I’ve just heard this evening's news that we've passed the truly awful milestone of 100,000 Covid deaths in the UK. I'm heavy-hearted, thinking about all those lives lost and all the people bereaved by this pandemic. I wrote this blog earlier in the day, to share what we're doing to stay positive in the hope it might help others to hear this. If you're are a friend from home or work or a family member reading this and you're feeling down, please do
get in touch. I'll be happy to talk or just listen.
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This pandemic is often referred to as a ‘marathon’, a term which reminds me of ‘the loneliness of the long-distance runner’.
I was reflecting this morning that it’s pretty lonely running at 7.30am along country lanes in -2°C, the black ice snapping under my feet and the cold air making my lungs crackle. The only other sign of life is the rabble-rousing colony of ducks that launches into a cacaphony of quacking as I pass by. But for me, this feels lonely in a good way. I’m full of awe as I watch the glowing orange ball of sun creep up over the horizon, turning the frosty fields and sheep pink. I feel restored by the solitude and silence, two things in short supply in our household during lockdown. My head clears and starts to hum with ideas. Today is day 62 of my daily running streak which started in mid November. Despite a grumbling shin muscle, it has become a much-needed part of my early morning routine. Always happier outdoors, I’ve found cabin fever has been kicking in very early each day during this winter lockdown, making me scratchy and impatient. I feel distinctly more hopeful and less tetchy after I’ve run. No wonder my family are in a hurry to shoo me out of the door as they sit down to the more civilised option of breakfast beside the woodburner.
To my surprise, my early morning running habit has rippled out in unexpected ways.
My husband John, who has always been a semi-regular runner, is now running on alternate days and seems to be relishing this new frequency. Isabella (9) is outside straight after breakfast with her skipping rope for ‘family skipping time’ as I return from my run. Yep, that's right. Family skipping sessions. I had been racking my brains for a quick, fun way to be active outdoors when our waterlogged clay soil rules out ball games and we only have 10-15 minutes before lessons start. I discovered some ancient skipping ropes (bought back in my 20’s when I had the energy to do kick-boxing) and since then we’ve all been honing our skipping skills every morning, in all weather. I’ve been remembering some fancy skipping moves I thought long-forgotten. Isabella is learning to persevere and stay cheerful whilst getting tangled up in rope. John (tall and gangly) is turning into the suprise skipping pro, ratcheting up the highest continuous skipping score so far. Mostly I’ve come to love our skipping sessions for the spontaneity and fun they generate: pink-cheeked and puffing, we invariably end up in stitches laughing at each other. It feels good.
Another infectious habit I’ve discovered is de-cluttering. I’m an ardent minimalist and would happily live in a house with bare floorboards, no curtains and just an occasional chair or two. It’d be bliss. Periodically I have a fit of chucking stuff out, Marie Kondo silently egging me on. It’s hard to properly de-clutter a family household singlehandedly. But to my surprise, after clearing out our tardis of a utility cupboard, I found John voluntarily tackling another cupboard and Isabella tidying her over-stuffed desk so enthusiastically that not only will the lid now actually shut but - added bonus - she discovered some precious long-lost ‘gems’ inside.
It’s not just physical habits that are contagious, emotions are too.
I’ve been writing about this in a draft chapter of my
book, where I’m describing our cultural norms about time at work. Did you know that most employees spend 10 or more hours per month complaining — or listening to others complain — about their bosses or upper management? (The research is
here). Astonishingly, almost a third spend 20 hours or more doing so. Negative emotions and habits such as complaining spread easily across teams and leave a toxic imprint. A recent paper by
The Oxford Review
confirmed this phenomenon of ‘emotional contagion’ which they define as how “
we tend to catch and take on the prevailing emotions of any team or group we are a member of for any period of time”. This means our mood and emotions tend to converge with the mood of others around us over time, whether at home or work. It’s even proven to be the case when we’re working virtually. These findings ring true for me. I remember as a management consultant I frequently found Monday mornings in the office hard and often felt low until another colleague’s cheerfulness perked me up. And just this morning a Zoom call with a former colleague who was radiating positivity and warmth left me feeling buoyed up and enthused.
I realise that when I’m feeling particularly fed up of lockdown or anxious about 'what if...', I’m most likely spreading gloom around the house. So I’m going to try a scientific experiment this week, rather like my old tube train experiment back in my London-living days. To while away the tediously familiar commute, I’d quietly (or noisily) yawn and count how many other people in the carriage I could set off yawning as well. How very pre-pandemic that seems now, almost sacrilegious. My experiment this week is to see if I can spread cheerfulness at home when one of us is feeling down in the dumps. How? By digging deep and finding some positivity, even if I have to ‘fake it till I make it’. I’ll keep you posted. If it drives my family nuts, I guess I’ll be back out on the roads running for longer to give them some peace.