June 2013

[Sweder]

How cruel the running gods can be!

Seems like days ago I was cavorting towards the Brighton Marathon on a wave of optimism and legs of coiled spring. Today's modest outing, a four mile wobble under a bright morning sun, laid the hard truth bare. Gravity sucked at my heavy bones, dragging me earthward with every weary step. The dial barely brushed eight minute mile pace, even on the wind-assisted downhills. Lumbering through the shaded woodland I came upon the fallen tree. I made as if to leap the stricken bough, only to catch myself on top before teetering forward. I stumbled on, shocked at the failure of my lifeless pins.

My last mile felt like the end of the Stinger. I heaved in, eyes rolling, bathed in sweat, gasping for air.
That mountain seems more than half a world away.

Track du jour (in my head): Eory Gallagher, Million Miles Away