June

[Sweder]

After my racy five yesterday what I needed was a broiling hill race trailing in Moyleman's lusty wake. Just as well coz that's what I got.

We hooked up with 'Soft' Alan (I did ask; it's a long story, and quite a good one, but not for me to relate). Al is embarking on a Berlin Marathon campaign and probably hadn't banked on chasing two semi-fit loons into scorched Sussex hills. We took off up a series of woodland trails, scaling Devil's Dyke to cross the A27. 'Scaling Devil's Dyke' sounds horribly like an attempted assault on Pat Butcher but the Dyke is in fact a popular local landmark frequented by runners, cyclist and horse-people, home to a couple of well-known golf courses, several fine hostelries and a windmill.

The sun was up early for a Sunday (as it had been last week at the Seaford half). Hot though it undoubtedly was - my sodden vest and shorts bore testament to that - I must be getting used to it, chugging along comfortably, sharing the banter with Moyley. Al worked hard behind, maintaining a solid pace as we climbed the inexorable face of the South Downs for mile after sun-baked mile. We paused at the summit, snapping a couple of shots back down into the Dyke valley, before selecting a route back into Brighton. This proved less straight forward and we ended up taking a mile detour into the village of Poyning (which I duly noted has a rather fine looking pub called the Royal Oak - I shall return!). This in turn lead us along a series of country roads which, this being Sunday, proved well populated with vehicles. The absence of footpaths or a verge worthy of the name resulted in a rather hairy mile or so as the fume-belchers swerved around us. Not clever, and not to be repeated.

Mercifully we detoured out of Saddlescomb into Saddlescomb farm and up across the downs once more. A kindly breeze swept up from the distant sea, cooling our sweat-coated bodies. Finally we returned to the London Road, jogging easily towards Withdean and the Moyleman Lair. Le Soft announced 10.56 miles in 1:50 (he'd joined and left us along the route so I'm banking eleven. Given the elevations scaled I am entirely comfortable with this). Sanoodi route map.



Moyleman offered use of his shower and I nearly bit his arm off. Despite the leisurely pace my legs were leaden. The good news is no sign of recent calf trouble so I'm about ready (drops to a whisper) [SIZE="1"]to accept that it's completely healed.[/SIZE]

Some shots from the run below.
I'm off to mow the lawn and cart ridiculous amounts of garden waste to the dump before knocking out my signature Sunday roast. An hour or so buried in the sofa watching the cricket with my arms wrapped around a bottle of Old Peculiar may well feature.