Driving through the village today, a beautiful day with blue skies once again, and come to a junction, noticing a couple of guys out running. I notice runners. 'Who's that', rubbernecking to see if I know these 'others' running around, doing my sport in my town...sheesh! So these guys, they make it to the central island, but the lights change. They stop and are stranded as the cars move forwards. Except they don't stop. They do that jogging on the spot thing. Huffing and puffing, high knees, arms pumping, I drive by and stare at them, trying to work out 'why'. I've never done this. I don't know if it's the right thing to do. If it is, then count me out. Frankly, what are they doing running through the village anyway. Traffic free, it ain't. I drive by. I don't actually scoff, but clearly I have opinions. I move on.
Later I'm blessed to be out running myself. The afternoon is still hot, and The Carrs is full of people doing what people do in the park. I can't help noticing that there seems to be a lot of snogging going on today. Eventually down into the woods where it's a little quieter and there is a kind of tee pee, made from the tree branches. It looks good, but a little close to the path. I'd have preferred it a little off track. A perfect den. I'm drawn to stop and look inside. It's quite grand this one, something around which you'd expect a bacchanalia to be in full swing. It's funny how a few sticks leaning on something can create an 'inside'. I used to like a good den as a kid. We'd lean our sticks against something and go 'in'. Job done. There was just something about building a den, building something large enough that you could actually get inside, and look out.
And then it happens. Decide to run up the road from the hotel and cross over into the fields. Except now it's 5.30 and there is solid fast moving traffic in both directions. Still moving, running, looking behind, looking forwards, waiting for a gap. Walking now, mustn't stop, still looking, still no gap. Until the pavement runs out, or you step in the road. So this is the moment. To stop and look like a wally, out running, but clearly not running, or stop and get with the jogging on the spot thing, and look like a wally, out running but clearly not running. And this happens twice. Stood there for flipping ages. left right, right left. Solid traffic. It does take the edge off your momentum, but then so does a stile, and I don't complain about that, stood at the bottom admiring the view. Road running, in traffic. Hmmm.
