A run somewhere down in Surrey last week. I don't actually know where as I was a passenger, but south of the M25. It was one of those hot days and after a short nights sleep I woke with the sun, glowing orange through my room window. A recce the previous evening and I was trying to remember the vague route of local footpaths. They're good round here. Clear signs, but significantly, well trodden paths. It's not always the case! And it was harvest time.
The greens of the north are replaced here by golden browns. And in the early morning sun, the colours and the dawn mist were quite a sight. It was only a short run, across a few fields, down a bridleway or two, past sleeping horses, across a stream and through the back garden of a local pub. Back at my hotel after a stretch, I catch a coffee before my shower and notice dripping blood down my shin. Again, not a mark, but today I have pitting oedema and a cankle!
