Finally, I seem to be getting back to where I was in early March. Four great miles early this morning through the scrubbed, edgey post-rain air. The sort of run that throws you from night to day. Asleep one minute, wide-awake the next. Like the flicking of a switch.
I didn’t intend running fast this morning, it just happened that way: a whole two minutes a mile faster than I was just two weeks ago.
It was tough, but I felt a kind of confidence and energy, and centredness that I’ve not felt for a while.
Back home, chomping hypnotically on my dry toast, staring through the kitchen window, I see a young deer trotting round the back garden sniffing at the flowers. Eventually she bounds off through the laurel hedge and vanishes into the neighbouring garden.
