The Fog

Or, thumbs up to thumb holes.

Oh, thumb holes how I love you

I woke up this morning to blue skies and sunshine at the front of the house. When I scampered into the spare room at the back of the house, I peered over the biggest ironing mountain in the world to see that there were frosty cars in the car park. This meant the first frost of the autumn and my first chance to wear my Mizuno long sleeved top with thumb holes. I adore thumb holes. Maybe it’s the inner sulky teenager in me, but I love being able to yank my sleeves over my hands…

Anyway, my plan for today was to do a quick three-mile out and back, just running, no photos, but seeing the frost made it seem like a good morning to have another soul run round the lodge. I decided to take my camera just in case there was some nice frost along the way and I’m very glad that I did.

As I ran down the hill out of the village, a thick fog cloaked the road and into the valley.

The view from the road into the valley...

...and the valley back up to the road

I couldn’t see across the car park and the view that met me at the top of the steps was a little different from yesterday’s run.

Compare and contrast with Saturday's version...

The greyness surrounded me (and everything else) and made it a little eerie. There were plenty of dogs (and their people) around and when one of them barked, somehow  it sounded loud but far away at the same time. It was calm and still, cold and bleak, but all the while I ran with the knowledge that there were blue skies just waiting to get through.

Foggy ducks

The, um, view across the water

So that’s two days of mojo recapturing done – this week I’ve got an after work 7 miler planned with Ginge on Tuesday and then an early Thursday to make four sessions this week. Oh and, I wore my new running shoes and didn’t notice them at all. I think that this is a good thing, but will give them a few more outings before I decide on my final verdict.

Make a little birdhouse in your soul

When I only have weekends to run in the daylight they start to take on far too much significance. From the middle of the week I think about it, just so that I can be certain that I will make the most of the day. Everything is invested in this one run. It must be perfect.

Well, there’s nothing like putting pressure on yourself is there? If everything did turn out perfectly, this would be great, but if the run’s not perfect (and inevitably it isn’t) then I feel let down and miserable. Or even worse than that, I spend so much time tying myself up in knots about going out at the perfect time on the perfect route, that I don’t even get out of the door…

Today I wasn’t going to fall into that trap. Today was all about running a familiar route and appreciating it. This is what caught my eye…

There were lots of autumn leaves...

...and lots of sheep...

...and some very serene swans...

....and the Green Man in the playground...

...and even more leaves...

...and the view that always tends to lift my spirits when I run this way...

...and of course, the aforementioned birdhouse.

A few weeks ago, PeopleRun wrote about rediscovering your running mojo and included my contribution – Run somewhere different, preferably somewhere scenic. Only about half a mile of today’s run was somewhere scenic, the other 5.5 were on the road, running (for the most part) the same routes that I hack out time and time again. I do stand by my own advice, but wonder if maybe sometimes it’s a question of looking around you and appreciating what you see?

PS. After my last apologetic post, abradypus asked that, if I found my missing running mojo, could I send some her way? I’m not claiming to have rediscovered mine (just as one swallow doesn’t make a summer, one run does not make a regular training routine), but I hope that this morning’s run helps both of us.