Foolishly, perhaps, yesterday was double run day. A scheduled and well thought out morning route took me in to Alderley village and back through the sewerage farm. What's not to like! Then no sooner was I back I had an invitation for an evening run with a couple of friends...and all the carefully constructed and fastidiously executed rehabilitation plans drifted out of the window along with my burnt porridge smells. Tomorrow, it's 13 weeks since my ankle let me down.
That's a quarter of a whole year. If the notion that spaceman Tim Peake proclaims to have mostly missed the sensation of rain on his face seems somewhat unfathomable, then so does the fact that I too have missed the sights and smells of running through Cheshires premier shit hole. Memories fade, especially when masked by new and seemingly more interesting distractions. I was more than content with my morning run, it was an awakening for me.
I'll take what I can get in my somewhat limiting and restricted running window. But my evening run, great for all the right reasons, the weather, environment, and being out with friends, consolidated my view that even the crap experiences bring balance and completeness to the whole. Life is like that. There is much to take in and reflect on, not just the highlights, or indeed if you only remember the bad times. There is good and bad, but it's balance that wins the day.
