Raining when I got home last night, the 'whoo hoo, lets go for a run' boxes weren't really getting ticked. I wanted to go, but sort of didn't. I put it down to the weather. This is no fun for running on the roads. Weather like this needs a run to match, and so a plan to head for the hills was hatched. Bollington, a place I used to live, so decided to run the Bollington Nostalgia Hill Race route. Against the odds, I even managed to get a small group out. There must have been something about my invitation that appealed.
'Hey, let's not go for a quick local club run, instead let's drag this wet dank evening out, go drive somewhere to where it's worse, do a longer harder and hillier run, get properly soaked and cold, then drive back, shivering, late and hungry.' They all said yes. And indeed, it was almost perfect. Low grey cloud disguised where we were going, the rain and mist was actually refreshingly cooling, no one else was out, except ducks on the canal. It was pretty special actually, in a way that's hard to describe, or sell-on again as a concept of a fun evening out. Unless you run!
