June

[Sweder]

June looks set to end with a running whimper.
Heat and hayfever combined to add insult to leg-weary injury this morning. I can't call it a run, more a stagger, an ugly stumble over sun-drenched hills. Brown tints flecked the green bushes, parched plants screaming silently for water. The ground was dry and dusty, rock hard underfoot, unforgiving.

There's no hint of rain on the five-day horizon. Last night I took advantage of the current lack of a hose ban and flooded my newly planted front garden. A small lake formed around the flowering pear tree, yet by morning just the faintest hint of a damp patch remained. The sun gets up mighty early here - around 4.30 am - putting in a full sixteen hour shift with little or no cloud cover. Brutal.

Alice Cooper's Poison helped haul me up Blackcap, miraculously without a walk-break or an outright stop. By the time I'd started running, well into the homeward section at around three and a half miles, I was rewarded with a favorite Pink Floyd track, Sheep from Animals. I reached home, shirt soaked, eyelids swollen with pollen, to see Tess, the Naughtiest Whippet In The World [SIZE="1"]TM[/SIZE] parked outside the front door. She'd bailed out early, perhaps to spare herself the sight of her master's ungainly shuffling but most likely because she's reaching a stage when she can't hack these runs any more. At twelve years she's old for an active whippet. I'll be heartbroken if she can't come along any more. We'll have to see.