A brace of barefoot outings this week, the last not ten minutes ago.
I'm enjoying the FiveFingered freedom, especially running through the tall wisps of summer grass in the big field. There's something rather satisfying about pulling pale seed heads from between your toes. There again, perhaps I'm simply enjoying running. It's been a while. The new boots feel fine, toughened treads reducing the usual reaction to landing on a boulder of jagged flint from a scream and a tumbling somersault to a sharp intake of breath and rapidly-sharpened focus on the ground ahead.
Running-wise we're a long way from Brighton. A new friend, also new to running, is blogging almost daily about his adventures. He's also a disciple of the bare foot, and has signed up for a week-long course in Brighton where all manner of issues are covered and a good deal of running is completed. I'm keen to learn from him.
This acquaintance has given me a new goal: to get him out into Jog Shop Jog territory. In order to do so, and not be left to die under a blazing sun, with buzzards* circling my abandoned, emaciated** carcass, I will need to get fit. So, more of the same next week. I've stuck to nice, easy two mile circuits so far. I may trot along to ParkRun on Saturday. If I do that'll be my longest run (all 5k of it) in many weeks. After that it's on to Three Bridges where the locals host the Rooks in the latest in a series of pre-season friendlies.
*Seagulls
**that may take a while
Speaking of Seagulls, last week Lewes took on Brighton & Hove Albion (lost 3-0 after holding the Seagulls, a full strength first team, to 0-0 for 45 minutes) and Crystal Palace (again a full side who demonstrated the five league gap with gusto, running out 5-1 winners). The former saw the pan at capacity, 2400 bouncing, chirruping souls, enjoying the Harveys, Rook Pies and, at long last, some most clement weather. The latter game was on Friday night, having been hastily arranged following the Eagles aborted trip to Bath. Over 900 showed up for that one, completing a decent week for our pre-season coffers.
On Saturday afternoon our brave boys cleaned their boots, re-stretched their sore legs and took on Dover Athletic. Dover are just the one league above us, and favourites for promotion to the gifddy heights of the Blue Square South. They must have been licking their lips at the prospect of facing a Rooks side torn apart by a rampant Palace not eighteen hours ago. So it must have come as a bit of shock when the interval arrived with the home side two to the good and comfortably out-playing their opponents. As the Rooks tired, their discipline held. Despite a late consolation for the visitors, Lewes ended a terrific week with a well-earned win. During the match I noticed one of the linos (I can't call the assistant refs, it's not right) had combined a shiny bald pate with a swimming goggle strap to hold his glasses on. He looked just like one of the Minions out of Descpicable Me.
The Mighty Rookettes, with whom I have yet to complete the complimentary training session , thrown in with the signed photo I successfully bid on at the end of season auction (I'm going to wait a few weeks - I may well barf up a lung if I try to keep up with them now), hosted Nation League side Charlton Athletic. Manager Jacqui Agnew played four newbies, including a second Portuguese international, Jo, and a sprightly right back, yet to reach her seventeenth birthday. Lewes ladies went down 2-1, though were extremely unlucky not to level from the spot after the rather portly, centre-circle-centric official, failed to spot the CAFC keeper put a full body check on Kirsty Spice.
Interest in the women's game is likely to increase in the UK so long as Team GB stay in the Olympic competition. Though, what football of any description is doing in the Olympics, I have no idea.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
