Eight satisfying miles along the canal late this afternoon, starting in sunshine, through twilight, ending in darkness. I’ve been a bit concerned about not doing the distances recently, so was determined to get this one under my belt. I managed it by reminding myself what these weekenders are supposed to be about — long, slow distance, or LSD. They cultivate endurance.
I’m a slow runner, and today I became slower. I decided to limit myself to steady trotting. Burn a thousand calories or so, and keep moving for 8 miles. That’s how it went.
It was a fascinating melange of running environments. Through the village in fading, but almost warm, sunshine. A lot of Christmas-giddy kids about, jabbering in cartoon-speak and cackling at my knees. Then four and a half gloriously twilit miles along the canal. It’s a modest waterway, but at times it offers a sense of natural peace and tranquility that I’ve rarely found anywhere else. What a sight it was, running into that languorous, black and gold sunset. The only other human I saw was an angler, and he was so immobile that I wasn’t even sure he was still alive.
The last couple of miles were a reintroduction to reality. After turning off the canal I had a choice — a 4 mile detour to take in 2 or 3 hills, or the direct route back to the village. I took the latter. I was getting tired, and hills in the freezing darkness held no appeal. So I chugged home along the busy A4 instead, my icy nackers shaking like maracas, ankles crackling like castanets.
OK, a gross exaggeration, but the assonance and alliteration was irresistible.
