The Long And Winding Road . . . Again

[Sweder]

OK, it's time to pay the piper.
I had strong words with myself at the start of the week, some sort of stern nonsense about a minimum of four runs per week from now on. I managed two. My third should have been on Tuesday with Nigel and the Oil Patch Hash, but the JDRF Marathon awards intervened; could have been on Wednesday night with SP, but this was postponed so that I could enjoy the fabulous production of Jospeh and His Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat at my daughter's school - it was magnificent, but it didn't help the training. Thursday night I worked late to make up for the hours lost glued to the radio in the aftermath of the attacks on London, and Friday night I went down the pub.

What happened this weekend I can't really say, except that I spent a lot of today on Seaford beach gently cooking and occasionally dousing in the cold sea, glad that I wasn't sweltering up on the downs.

Then tonight I took a stroll with the hounds. I could have run, but I'm frankly too knackered after a week of stress, little sleep and a whole host of fabulous excuses that I really should have saved up and used over a longer period.

Walking along the South Downs Way tonight, with the pink tendrils of sunset over the hills and the warmth of the earth washed over me by a gentle twilight zephyr, I realised I'd missed a trick.

No more Mr Nice Guy: it's four runs this week, or there's no Guinness.
Now that oughta do it.

_______________________
Sweder, Hillside Pontificator