March 2017

[Sweder]

I did, mate. I ran 13 Kms marking top of the YBR to Firle Bostal this afternoon.

The morning mist did burn off today, after our 9am rendezvous at Ground Coffee. Duncan stepped up to make the statutory gag about the arrows being printed the wrong way round, we assigned sections, shared out signs and staple guns and went our separate ways.

I had another meeting immediately afterwards, with the great and the good at Lewes FC. This lasted two and a half hours. By the time I'd had lunch - a handful of nuts and a banana - the sun reigned supreme in a bright blue sky.

My section's not too long; about 7 miles top to tail. But both ends are inaccessible by road, so I end up running a good amount of it twice; from the car up one way, towards the YBR, back to the car and then on up Itford Hill to Firle Bostal.

It's an emotional time for we Moylemen. We few, this band of brothers who josh and jape and crack wise and harsh with much gusto. I know each of us were thinking about The Man, about why we do what we do at this time of year; about tomorrow, the stress, the adrenaline, the laughter, the tears, the hugs. The beer. This is our field of dreams. We have built it; they will come.

Mañana.