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meditation
Five runs in about 2 weeks. And it seems as though my appetite for putting one foot in front of the other, at a moderate pace and in an almost controlled fashion, has returned.
I don't try and plan or control it these days. I just go with it and hope it lasts long enough to allow me one or two milestones; maybe another Half Marathon in a half-decent time.
My major obstacle to fitness has been my beloved '61 Enfield. Sat in the basement it's very difficult to ignore in the mornings. The sound of a decelerating single-cyclinder engine is music. And getting your shoulder into some country roads the perfect start to the day. Do you know what I'm torqueing about?
So the bicycle has been relegated to a redundant bystander.
I'm just nibbling crumbs compared to some people here who manage to grab the whole loaf and rip-off a hearty crust. (BB is the current inspiration.)
But on Saturday morning I managed a 10-miler. Not at any great pace you inderstand; but there was some climbing in it. And I'm planning to do the infamous Simon's Seat next weekend. A route I shared with the late-great EG once-upon-a-time.
And it's meditative, at least. Maybe that should be today's definition of running: a form of meditation for those of us who lack the patience to sit quietly in the same room.
As Robert Louis Stevenson said: "the great affair is to move".
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