I’m on my knees,
The smell of your fresh cut grass,
Your blue sky grins
For all its sins.”
July has finally arrived. Not that it was early, or indeed, late. It arrived precisely when it was meant to. (Any similarity between this and Gandalf’s speech from the first The Lord of the Rings film are purely coincidental). But it’s here now, and that means we are on the slow downward spiral towards Declan’s Way on the 24th. It may be a little too early – and frankly, optimistic – to be checking the weather, but we can certainly start to box off certain items. And in this case, I genuinely mean box off, as I have started putting bits and bobs in a box in the office; maps, leads, batteries, etc.
There was a plan once. As in, a running plan. I probably had other hopes and dreams, too, as a child, but sure look, these things happen. Suffice to say the plan has been quietly shelved. In fact, I don’t think it was followed too closely from its infancy. See also: Mike Tyson’s theory on everyone’s plan falling apart after a swift punch to the face.
I’ve more or less resorted to three shortish runs during the week, and one long one at the weekend. The longest of these was the weekend before last, when I knocked out 34k along the canal towards Kilcock before doubling back via the lake for a cooling dip. And yesterday I managed 20k before it got too hot to run. Again, I took in the canal and, once more, followed it up with a glorious swim in the lake. This is the last of the long runs. Plans to do 50k plus in the mountains did not materialise. As I say, things don’t always go to plan, and you just have to make the most of it. Far bigger things are heading down the track than an ultra run.
So rather than blather on about all of that, I will instead post some pictures here from the last couple of long runs, plus a few dogs. What else!
And Bonnie and Odi to finish off…