Re: Bob's Bits.
Entry:-190215
6:15am And the prod of dedication wakens me from a deep sleep where I have won marathons and received Olympic gold medals. The same prod selects auto-pilot as I quietly get dressed and gaze at the rain soaked window. Before I have time to resist, I’m out in the street splashing along waterlogged pavements. Full kit this morning, hat, gloves and waterproof jacket, but I still wear shorts: legs are very waterproof and can manage without the flapping of sodden bottoms.
I cross the road and drop onto a small path down the side of a field, it’s full of puddles, some I dodge and some I leap over, but by the time I get to the end of the field I just run through them. I can feel the cold embrace of the water on my feet as it soaks through my running shoes. Err. I’m back on tarmac now running through a housing estate, I find the alley that leads to the wood and once again I’m on soft ground. The rain seems to have eased off now; or is it just the protection from the trees. As I leave the wood and join the main road, I find a small procession of vehicles queuing to take their place on the roundabout. Faces peer out at me from steamy windows, I know what they are thinking; but they are wrong, I’m warm and comfy jogging along on what is [for them] just another rainy morning.
The lane is not as bad as I thought it would be, I can still find some places to run on that are not underwater or chewed up by the odd tractor. I arrive home in a disappointing time, I try to think of excuses to write in my journal; the rain, the mud, the traffic, but in the end, it was me, doing the best that I could on this rainy February morning.