There's a curious parallel, I consider, as I watch the freshly laundered bed linen from my mums window wafting in the morning breeze. I'm just back from a run, covered in crap, through fields round the back of my old school and neighbouring villages. You couldn't help but notice the pristine ploughed and tilled fields, memories of what life has lived before, now turned over and readied for new growth. The route was unplanned, no prerequisites sought or outcomes noted...this was a run for the soul. A chapter closed.
