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May 2009
Having tested the foot at Hove Park last weekend I followed up with a gentle downland five-miler on Sunday and another more robust outing yesterday morning. Sunday's plod was tough, the climb up Wicker Man Hill debilitating though I managed to maintain an ugly form of jogging throughout.
Yesterday's was a horse of a different colour. My mind raced with thoughts of the impending service for Chris and my small part in it, inducing a mental memory montage to fuel legs and lungs. Despite the battering from a firm westerly I battled up the slopes a good deal quicker than I have of late, barely pausing at the summit before plunging head-long down the dusty homeward trail. Even allowing for an untimed stroll at the very start I clocked my best time this year by far, worries about knees and dodgy feet banished. It felt good to hit sub-five minute K pace, my fears re: Bewl subsiding ever so slightly.
Of course all that good work was undone yesterday afternoon as toast followed toast in the Black Lion, Chris's friends and family mingling to swap tall tales and special memories. The service was quite lovely, filled with quotes of love and admiration, painting a picture of a man cruelly taken all too soon. A nice touch appeared courtesy of one of the Hove Park organisers who produced a bag of purple ribbons, one for each of the many runners who turned out to honour Moyleman. One of Chris's relatives asked me what the ribbons were for and I told her. She clasped my hand in hers, smiling through her tears. 'Thank you. Thank you!' was all she could say. It was all I could do to smile back.
We'll be wearing those ribbons on Saturday at the Park Run, and again at Bewl on July 5th, when I fear a horrible abundance of garish running attire. Judging by the number of people who've pledged an appearance I need to get my finger out and my entry in before they run out of places.
There's a lot more work to be done in the next few weeks, not least in the lard-loss department. Happily, with the acceptable exception of last night, I seem to be on the right track. At last.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
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