plod

early spring-ish - 11 degrees, almost sunny. not ready for it. decide against shorts. tiredness and stiffness causing self-consciousness. legs look white. occasionally have to go through this sort of rubbish. reason hate traffic at the start of a run. to vineyard, overdressed. chimney sweep emblazoned on van parked across top of drive. passenger opening kfc box. wonder if when they saw me they suddenly, self-consciously thought, we’re blocking that drive. alley. need new shoes, little cushion left. flat. feel beaten up come top of vineyard. mildly shocked, didn’t know i was this stiff. muddy flinty paths up onto downs. thighs dead. realise these are the steepest hills i’ve climbed since the snow. steepness reveals tightness - no wonder i sank in the last race. muddy bridleway then last little climb. legs completely gone. plod past church and through gate by car park. add a little bit. only a bit, now i’m up. along then straight down. hate going down steep slopes, especially ones with loose surfaces, often hard to get going again once down. plod along pilgrims’. pause at bury hill to stretch hams. suffering. pause in town to say hello to former club mate. late for the chiropractor i think. again wonder if i’m imagining the slightly patronising manner. big pile of grey snow in car park by church. still so light through park. would prefer it a bit darker. perspiring, in pain... not pretty.