The Long And Winding Road . . . Again

[Sweder]

Following a nice swim at the weekend off Seaford beach which involved a rather tasty barbeque, a couple of bottles of Duvel (chilled) and a bottle of White Grenache (very chilled) I decided to go for an evening plod across the downs.

Perhaps not the wisest decision I've ever made, but there we are. A picture perfect evening, the three-quarter moon shedding ghostly light onto the Big W across the valley, the sculpted western horizon thrown into sharp relief by the deep orange glow of the freshly departed sun.

I took the hounds up past the stables and onto the rutted track to Black Cap. Part way along I assessed the encroaching darkness and elected to return. The air around my ankles was a good 5 degrees warmer than that around my ears, a variance unique to this time of day at this time of year.

Home again, hot and sweaty, in around 35 minutes, just over 3 miles under my (expanded) belt. Sometimes it's lovely to just chuck on the trainers and run.