August

[Sweder]

The divide between chalk and cheese could not be wider than the yawning gulf between two seven a.m.s separated by twenty-four hours.
Same hour, same location; the pitch-black still of my bedroom, Mrs S blissfully away in the land of Nod. I peeped out of the bedroom window, gingerly lifting the farthest corner of the blind. Where yesterday I had witnessed the onset of the Apocalypse today I was greeted with a site so beautiful I audibly gasped. All dark clouds banished from bright blue skies, early sun bathing every nook and corner of the garden. Birds sang, cats lounged, dog-tails wagged, postmen whistled.

Not so much a run this morning as an homage to a landscape in all its summer finery, a photographic tour taken at a steady plod. The dogs came along, eager to make up for their lost run yesterday, bounding across fields speckled with wild flowers under the watchful eye of twittering skylarks.

I opted for a shortened run, stopping just past the peak of WMH, the valley and climb to Blackcap liberally covered with grazing sheep; I needed to keep something in the tank for Sunday. Sam Lambourne tells us (usually when we're whinging about pain and suffering) that running on tired legs is when we do the most good. If that's true I enjoyed my most productive outing of the week by far. Back-to-back midweek runs are not usual in this land of less-is-more, and I felt far off the pace today. What, me worry? The combination of crisp, clean air - yesterday's deluge had driven the humidity deep into the Sussex soil - and crystal clear views proved a heady brew; I drank deeply, all cares carried far away on a cool downland zephyr.

Returning to Lewes via Landsport Bottom our gang of four was joined by a half-dozen horsemen. We ran, they trotted, just about keeping pace, the dogs already on their leads in a field adorned with sheep. In the background the town lay in its valley cradle, serene under morning's veil, the cliffs beyond rising to embrace the morning sun. To our right the Ouze valley reached out to Newhaven, Apollo chasing the last vestiges of mist as they clung to the winding riverbanks.

Four and a bit miles in around forty-five minutes. Leisurely stuff, and all the more enjoyable for that.
Here's a few snaps - I hope they do this magical morning justice.

[SIZE="1"]LtoR: Veil of Lewes; Wicker Man Hill; View east from WMH; Sheep, Horses, Hills[/SIZE]