And so it begins…
Keeping up the early morning theme, I did 2.6 miles at 6.15 this morning. Slightly disappointed because I thought it would be longer, but it was a gorgeous run, it was Monday morning and I had to take on my nemesis, the big hill. The problem with the big hill (apart from being big) is that it limits my options for running in and out of the village – basically a case of turn left at the front door and inevitably the big hill will loom. Now and again though I think it does me good to take it on.
So off I went. Left at the front door, right at the end of the road, down another big hill (apparently a ‘Brow’) and down to the lake. The lake is lovely at any time of the day, but I’ve discovered today that it’s beautiful first thing, so much so that I turned off The Waifs and listened to the birds and the sound of peacefulness. Also, turning off the tunes meant that I could be alert and watchful for danger. I think I can safely assume that most of the village’s dodgier characters are still in bed this early in the morning, but there’s something about running away from the main road that feels a bit strange. As it was, I only encountered a dog walker and he seemed more surprised by me that I did by him.
After the lake came the big hill. The first bit is ok (i.e. flat) but as you round the corner, the hill reveals itself like a pantomime baddy, I swear you can hear it cackle. After the big hill, it’s the home strait and time to collapse in a big sweaty heap.
Even though I plodded very slowly (I blame the moustache twirling hill), there’s no way I would have done it this afternoon in the blazing sun, so it’s not that bad.
One down, twenty-nine to go.