My life, I realise suddenly, is July

[Charliecat5]

Eight days ago, I did this same run and it was tough.  Last night it was a fantastic jaunt through the best that our locale has to offer.   From Blackcap to old chalk quarries.  Silent country roads to meandering river paths.  Wild open trails to single tracks and lastly, the pub.  And good company to go with it.

Five miles in, there is a decision point.  We could turn right and head back to Chez Sweder (the direct route), or we keep going and add another 4 miles.  The big man is still not his former self, but there was no cutting the route short for him.  “Straight on” he said… or rather gasped between deep rasping breaths. 

So on we went… down through dappled woodland, ducking under branches weighed down with leaves, fighting to keep feet on the straight and narrow as the roots of trees lashed out to trip the unwary traveller.    Then abruptly the woods were behind us and we were left standing on the edge of the quarry, gazing across the Ouse valley with Lewes shimmering in the sun.  Drinking in the view, all the big man could summon was a simple “wow”.

Next it was a steep descent… back into the woods, legs furiously fighting gravity’s attempts to grind us into the dirt.  Faster and faster kicking up the dust, re-plotting every step split second after split second, before looking up to realise that a stile was fast approaching.  To stop would likely end in tears, to keep going, the same.  One foot on the bottom step and I was over, cleared in one.  Seconds later I heard a somewhat less graceful landing behind me as the goat followed, with little choice but to throw himself into the unknown.  This is what it is to be alive.  That feeling that life is not all in our control… fate is playing its part.

What a sight we must of looked as we arrived in the little village of Offham.  Two sweaty middle aged blokes, grinning from ear to ear like a pair of deranged Muppets. 

From there to Hamsey before turning south to head back along the river.  The big guy was struggling now, muscles tightening… but his resolve didn’t waiver for a second.   That’s what makes BGG the runner he is… the determination to succeed, to make it, whatever the physical cost.

Also his complete lack of scruples.  The ease to which he is prepared to cheat.   The last upward battle to the heights of Lewes and it was time to kick back and make it count.  With legs frantically pumping, eyes firmly set on the prize, I went for it,  but as I rounded the final corner, Ash was nowhere to be seen.

I waited… I back tracked… I asked someone if they had seen him… until I thought “bugger it” and headed to the pub.  And there he was, sitting in the garden with two pints of Blackcap ale in front of him, grinning and muttering, as he gently perspired into his beer, about garden walls and short-cuts.  The sod!