Managed 4½ very wet and windy miles this morning. It looked worse than it really was. Blustery rain isn’t ideal, but it was surprisingly mild. Very nearly warm.
The funniest thing about days like today is noticing people’s reactions. I sauntered past a bus stop where two old ladies were clinging to each other while their macs and their Co-op carrier bags almost lifted them off the ground. All our lives we accept that weather conditions like this are to be fought against. We dress up against the rain and wind; we create barriers and insulation and invent sophisticated weapons like brollies to fight back. When you start running, for a while you carry on the same way, wearing rain jackets and hats and leggings. Then one day the truth dawns: it really doesn’t matter. But it takes time to discover all this, and of course the old ladies at the bus stop never get to hear about it, so you become an object of wonder and derision and sympathy and suspicion.
It wasn’t the best run I’ve done but the miracle was that it happened at all. The Christmas party on Thursday evening was late and suitably excessive. Yesterday I felt like I’d died and gone to hell. Today I feel much better, but still a bit tired. So the run was sluggish and creaky but it was important that I got out there to remind myself what it’s really all about.
