Bl**dy weeds...

Think I've put my recovery back again. I was tugging some weeds out of the garden when I felt a burning pain in my affected part. So my running must come to a halt again. Heartsink time.

On thoughts of Africa...

Another 7 o'clock trot out this morning. I did 4 minutes running with 1 min's walk, times 3 (or, in my shorthand '4 on, 1 off  X 3'). Pathetic really, but I'm creeping back towards being a 'proper' runner (I fancy having a go at ultracollie's genius 'Four Trigs Traipse') and I had only the slightest of discomfort at the end of the third running leg which eased off as soon as I walked. So I think things are getting better.

It was another beautiful morning, with a warm south-easterly breeze. Yet it had a poignant edge: Over the past couple of weeks I have been watching with pleasure the swallows as they wheel and dart above the house and skim over the fields snapping up the insects disturbed by the tedder as the farmer dries the grass for winter feed. They are brilliant little birds and today, as I went down the lane, there they were, all lined up, chattering, on the power line like children attending a new school in their new uniforms. When I came back, a mere 25 minutes later, they'd all gone, every last one of them. I wonder if we'll see them again this year or whether, even now, they are winging their way to their wintering grounds in Africa. I felt a little pang of sadness at the loss, but cheered myself up thinking that sometime soon, under an African sun, there may be someone out for a run whose spirits get lifted by the arrival of those same swallows.

Smileyrating: 9/10. Lovely run, but with a hint of melancholy

Oh what a beautiful morning...

It's 7am. I'm out the door. Just up the drive I see...

"Morning sheep!"  I begin my 10 min warm-up walk as specified on my program. A gorgeous scent wafts past my nostrils. Aha! that's why...

10 minutes later, I'm fed up with walking. I'm warmed up. At the crossroad I can go left or right. Right leads up a hill. I go left...

At last, grass. I start my 4 minutes jog. The dew-soaked grass gives me wet feet immediately...

This small rise leads to the river, where it all flattens out. The river is so tranquil this morning...

This part is beautiful and flat. As I run along, quicker now, I see a heron fishing in the river. You'll have to look hard to spot him...

All too soon, I'm at the halfway stage. Just touch the wall by the steps and then turn back...

I retrace my route, running gently 4 minutes on, 1 off. It's been so long since I've run, I'm shocked by how hard I find myself breathing. I see the steam of the paper factory rising vertically in the still, cool morning air. It's been a beautiful run, but it's over all too soon.
I lean my soggy Roclites against the wall of the house to dry and think; This is a sight to stir any runner's soul...

Roll on tomorrow!

Smiley rating for this run: Sorry, but it's got to be a 10

Soggy feet and a doggy treat

What a great day. 7 o'clock this morning found me doing careful 2 minute intervals on the flat path along the River Kent. It was cool and beautiful at this early hour. The dew was yet to burn off the grass and my feet made a pleasing swishing noise as I ran gently through it.  For the first time in ages, I got soggy feet while out running. It felt great.
The river is tranquil now as, curiously, were the sheep. They're normally a little skittish at this time of year, but this morning they grazed contentedly, raising their heads to look carefully at me as I ambled past before returning to their high fibre breakfast.
My rehab programme recommends I run for 2 minutes, followed by 2 minutes walking, repeated 3 times.  This sounds as if it's hardly worth getting out of bed for,  but I followed it religiously and finished wanting to run more and with no discomfort. So maybe it works. I have to do this a couple more times and then I can up the intervals to 4 minutes on, 2 minutes off, for a further week. I'll let you know how it goes.

Smileyrating 10 (I'm still over the moon at getting out!)

I made a few new friends tonight. Their names are Kit, Skye, Bruach, Scar and Annie. They are very, very special. They are all Border Collies who are, or who are training to be, search and rescue dogs for the Search And Rescue Dogs Association. I have volunteered to be a 'dogsbody' for the Association to help train the dogs. When I've learnt the skills (how to respond to each dog, how to get it to bark when required, the right level of play to use depending on the stage of its training etc.), it'll mean spending my thursday evenings, and the occasional weekend, lying in a bivvi bag out on a mountainside, pretending to be an injured climber or walker, waiting for one of these extraordinary animals to come and find me.  At the moment it means getting to know all the dogs and their handlers, so I get lots of doggy playtime. It's great!
If you should see a 'SARDA' collecting tin on a counter of your favourite gear shop, do drop a few coins in. As with all Mountain Rescue in the UK, it's all entirely voluntary and made up of dedicated people who turn out, dog in tow, because somebody else's world has gone horribly wrong.