Sunday, January 02, 2011
• 2.12 k
• time unknown (because I can’t be arsed)
• route – Waterhall
This is what the hill in Waterhall looks like. That’s Rebus the Cairn Terrier pretending he’s not ten years old, by the way. He’ll sleep for the rest of the day now, and probably for most of tomorrow too.
When I was running cross-country as a teenager, they used to say a foot in the country was a yard on the road: that sounds rather obscene, now I reflect on it.
I ran cross-country because I hated organised sport but had to do something. The training route went past Sandown train station (bacon butties) and the Railway pub (vodka and Tia Maria) and I could stand in the underpass and smoke and still get back with the final group. This may not have been the kind of incentive our PE teachers thought they were offering but they were gits and bitches so their preferences weighed little with me then and less now.
So a foot on Waterhall, this morning, was muddy and churned by the rugby and football teams who train on the lower pitches, and grass made with slippery with rain on the upper area which rises from the playing fields to the golf course. The sky was glorious and apart from a woman walking two black Labradors, we (me, OH and Rebus) had the upper stretch to ourselves. It was only 2.12 k, and a slow 2k at that, but now I’m off to the allotment to put in several hours of heavy labour, so I reckon each of those feet is easily going to be several yards of physical effort by the time today is over.
PS – I no longer drink or smoke.
PPS – I still tend to get back with the final group on any run, and it still doesn’t bother me.