But I don't know what to do, so do nothing. Everything is like this. Bed, bed is good. I like to sleep, but it rarely occurs at night. Haunted. My running lethargy has to end. I do need to do something about this. Nine days and no running. Unprecedented. Four nights away last week, from London to Glasgow. There is nothing sorrier than the sight of unpacking your bag and finding fresh running kit and clean trainers. I hope they enjoyed the ride...and the torment they gave me every time I looked in the bag for the things I didn't pack, razor, deodorant, socks. All small items, but strategic, shall we say! I had great plans to run, but they came to nothing. A gentle run out this morning was emotional. But there was honest sweat and that wonderful smell of the outdoor air.
I fell out of the WRC Summer Series competition today. Not enough races left for me to complete my seven needed to get a mug and a T shirt. I'm out! On the one hand I'm disappointed, on the other, I really don't have any emotion about it. I know I'm not fit, so I don't want to race. the racing scares me. It used to drive me. So what I did do today was went to watch a race at Meerbrook, 'The Killer 15'. There's a clue in the title, but I have done this race before and it broke me. I arrived alone and unannounced, walked to the finish moments before the first man home came in. Meerbrook is an up, down, back up and and down again race, but that final decent is a one of those that starts off welcome, but goes on just a little too long, and then some. A guy from Sale, all legs and a big smile, bounded over the line. Winner.
A modest ripple of applause, but he knew no one, so we all turned round and looked back up the hill and waited and waited, and waited some more...until WRC regular winner sprints over the line, looking bemused, as did everyone, actually, such is that hill. There's a new kid on the block! And so I stood there and clapped every single runner over the line. a very few I knew, and once they'd come and gone, I stayed and clapped the last person home, then went home myself. Why, because no matter who, each seemed genuinely pleased for the support and cheer, and in return I took pleasure in hearing in their breathing or the look in their eye that they knew they had done something special today. Lots of friendly people...and lots of other clubs!
So I came home and went to see Mrs Stock who had made rhubarb muffins with actual real rhubarb from her very own garden. A little creme fraiche and a drizzle of honey, yum. Then Pete starts up about how his training is falling apart and how he's 'done nothing' today. Before too long he's talked me into another run, double rhubarb muffins and a litre of tea notwithstanding, we agree a time and a route. The sun is shining, but it's apparent Pete means business and we're off the other way up the Bollin at a fair lick. Thankfully our route is punctuated by stiles...and cows. Pete is a manly kind of a man, maybe not in a physical way, but more about how his life is 'Pete-v-the rest of the world'. He, like me, doesn't tolerate the others well, but he takes no nonsense.
On the run, he leads, I follow! At one stile, we are wading through cows who seem to have congregated by the fence in the corner and are reluctant to move. Odd. Something isn't right. Then Pete yelps, 'f++k, bull' and jumps back and runs straight behind me wailing 'we need to get out, f++k'. Quite funny as all this time Mr Bull is giving us that 'idiots' look of complete indifference. Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy either, but relative to Pete, I'm a model of calm. We inch our way round and then leg it across the field. The bull never moved...and neither did his girls. That's manly. My manly resolve fared no better as next we encountered nettles. These always spark the fear of God into me. It must be a childhood thing, but cripes they hurt when they sting. Pete wasn't interested, but I'm sure I saw him flinch.
I like this route. We ran back in silence, breathing, sweating, happy. Another beautiful sunny late Sunday afternoon where some may choose to pay their respects to God elsewhere, but here for me, the Trail is my Church.
So what did I do today? I got a little bit upset, I clapped some strangers and took an opportunity to embrace the evening. "And what do you want to do?" Some of this, but not like this.
