February 2016

[Sweder]

At last, a proper return to the hills. After a week traveling (Geneva and London) for endless rounds of planning meetings I finally broke the shackles this lunchtime, racing home to throw on the gear and get out there. What a day for it!

Watery late winter sun, raucous Rooks cawing out their haughty critique, gloriously tacky mud, sponge-soft to embrace my weary feet. I battled into a strong headwind all the way up, head tucked in, body hunched over, stride shortened and arms pumping. I gritted my teeth and sucked it up, keeping an eye on the summit.

   

At the top I paused, the dogs panting alongside, all three of us catching our breath. I scanned the horizon, snapping a panoramic view of the Moyleman hills, enjoying the sunshine. On the plummet home I took careful note of the terrain, lapping up the delicious turf. It felt so, so GOOD to be out there! It felt like a return to running, as if these past weeks on the tarmac and cobbles has been nothing more than marking time. 

It's been more than that. I fair flew home, breeze at my back, dogs struggling to keep up, mostly due to their own lack of recent mileage. 8.37 kms in 54.09, a good 5 minutes faster than last time and something approaching my old standard. Average pace: 6.28 per kilometre, a personal record according to Runkeeper, which I find about as trustworthy as David Cameron trapped in a one-to-one interview on the BBC. 

Still, all that aside, my body tells me that was a good outing. Moyleman meeting tonight, Pre-twittens and Twittens on Sunday. If Mrs S fancies a Parkrun on Saturday we'll lob one of those in as well. 

On, on.