April, you Fool

[Sweder]

Sun rise, wrong side of another day
Sky high, six thousand miles away
Don’t know how long I’ve been awake
Wound up in an amazing state

Can’t get enough
But you know it’s righteous stuff
Goes up like prices at Christmas . . .

Motorhead -
Remember me now, Motorhead
All night

The sun didn’t so much rise this morning as launch from behind the golf course.
An angled bank of cloud reflected morning’s glory like the wake of a rising rocket; the force of the light breaking through the early mist was almost nuclear.

Shuffling downstairs to prepare toast and honey and I pondered this morning’s run. Something approaching 12 miles, almost certainly a truncated visit to the Snake with a plummet down Wilson’s to finish. My first run in a week, the Paris taper tuning into a pre-race laze. Of course it’s amateur stuff compared with the effectual 4 month taper of my good friend SP. Like the captain of the Titanic, and with more opportunity for foresight, I just didn’t see that coming.

Parked at the toaster, two pieces of granary slowly tanning, I elected to pass on the peanut butter this time. I instantly decided against gels today, too. Let’s just say I’ve carb-loaded with a little too much zeal this past week.

‘D’you think that’s wise, sir’ John le Mesurier purred in my head.

Hmm. Motorhead and Dad’s Army in the first ten minutes of the day?
Should be an interesting run.