April Fuel

[Sweder]

I know, I know . . . I was going to give it a rest.
In truth I always planned to do a bit of loping here and there, just not jabber on about it. I was getting tired of writing about the same old bit of hilltop track. But it's no use; I'm sat here knowing that I went out of a run yesterday, I've not written about it and it's eating me up, especially now that El Gordo is firmly back in the (albeit nicely padded) saddle and the forum's crackling with banter.

Tuesday's outing wasn't really much to write home about.
A seven-thirty start saw the sun up, struggling to peer through the veil of mist like a slightly soused Sultan searching for his concubines. My legs were full of lead after Sunday's surprisingly swift half. It took a good couple of miles chugging uphill to wash that through, warm blood cleansing the muscles of residual rust. I paused briefly at the turn, gazing over the vale of Sussex before launching off the 'Cap. The mist had cleared to let sunrays kiss my glistening forehead; it was almost warm out there. The hounds galloped alongside, occasionally distracted by a hint of movement in the yellow-flagged gorse. Despite the fractious weather Mother Nature seemed determined to flaunt her Spring collection; fields of laden grasses swayed, nesting skylarks bobbed and weaved, a rook banked overhead, beak laden with freshly-purloined hedgerow. I grinned, tipsy on life in this hillside haven.

The rise to the stables has seen heavy horse action in recent weeks, offering a bumpy, slippery ride for my sweaty ascent. At the top four horsemen greeted our merry band with a hail and hearty 'good morning'. Relations with the jockeys has been good lately, past clashes forgotten thanks in no small measure to Gypsy, my gangly Lurcher, having apparently lost her appetite for chasing fast-moving horseflesh.

Homeward with a tailwind, the ideal finish for a modest midweek five.
Another, perhaps on Thursday, Saturday marshalling the BHTT 5K and a Sunday Snake will make for a steady week.