August, indeed

[Sweder]

Sunday run saw the return of the twinge, so I kept it steady at around ten minute mile pace, lumbering over 3.8 miles of gently roasting hillside. Warm blood seemed to sooth the beast and I felt no more pain. I figured the steep haul up to Blackcap might be asking too much, so I cut across at the base of Mount Harry (aka Wicker Man Hill) and took the stoney path back to the stables. The hounds dragged themselves along in my rumbling wake, tongues lolling as they overheated.

After walking the dogs last evening I feel later outings might be the order of the day. I can't seem to get out early enough to avoid Apollo's blazing chariot, and these evening strolls, from seven thirty onwards, are delightful.