...she said, our reaction was to guffaw out loud at her because Sharons mantra is usually "I fucking hate running." I'm not sure whether she does or doesn't, in fact I'm sure it's both, but is measurably more vocal about the latter. However, without question, Thursday evening run was quite special. I've since bumped into a number of people who were out that night and have pretty much said the same. I took a small group out to the Edge and we went about our hill reps (redemption for Buxworth) and then picked our way home across the fields.
Fearful of organising such outings as often the moaning outweighs the pleasure, which I know they will get...eventually, this run was nothing but smiles despite the aches from Wednesday and the hills we tackled. The light was golden, the sky blue and leaves green with not a breath of wind or other people to be seen...a rare collective appreciation of running around. Still had to wear my gloves, though. Out of the sun, it's still chilly out there and fingers of death continue to trouble me. The thought of running without gloves is still a little like running without pants...unwise!
And so to ParkRun yesterday. 'James-22 weeks to Chester' (I can't continue this theme of introducing James to my posts like this, but needless to say there have been developments regarding the London conclusion and his future in Marathon running. Let's just say the sub 3 hour 26.2 is regarded as unfinished business) and I made an assault on cracking another and significant PB. This wasn't exactly helped by James finding himself in the lead and me having to grunt directions from behind. A fine result, though not particularly why I love running.
