It’s been ages since I’ve run on the canal and today’s cold and frosty morning seemed as good a time as any to have a trundle down the towpath.
Layered up on top (thumb holed sleeves over gloved hands) and less so on the bottom half (knee length tights…) , my main concern was the effect of the cold on my bladder.
It was a bit too early for most of the waterfowl and most were either sleeping or preening. I spent ages trying to take a picture of a duck having a good wash and ending up with a spiky head. Every time I took one, he’d duck his head down and I’d get a decapitated-looking creature instead. Having said that, I’d be a bit narky if someone tried to take photos of me with bed hair.
It was nicely busy and was one of those mornings where not saying ”morning!” to people would’ve been wrong. I even managed a cheery smile as I sped up past a serious runner type, although I fear he saw through my pretending to be a proper running as the next time he saw me I was taking photos of a tiny horse.
After a chilly three miles, I nipped into town to get some shopping and faced the stares as I was rocking a quality outfit involving running tights, hoody, woolly NY Jets hat and handbag. I know it’s not exactly a good look and probably not one for polite company, but I can’t work out whether they were from admiration, curiosity, amusement, disgust or a combination of all of the above.