Painless and confusing

I awoke, relaxed and happy to a clear blue, eight o’clock in the morning sky and mussed around the house while two quadspressos and a banana politely took their turns to slide down my throat.

I was in no hurry to go running, in part because of a vague disinclination to experience pain and in part because I was I just relaxed… there are a lot of fascinating worky ideas in my head at the moment and I was enjoying just sitting and allowing them to mull around.

Eventually, when Kim had finally showed her face, I set off into the morning.

I seldom really know how easy the running will be until I’m out there and this morning it was only okay; nothing more fluid than that.  Soon after starting I realised that I had a twelve bar blues riff going around in my head… little did I know that pretty much the same notes would go around and around in my head like a washing machine on a spin cycle right up to the end of my run!

I had a vague desire to run to the Beacon, accepting that I might turn around before then, so I ran out past a gloriously bright Oldlands Mill and down into Ditchling.

Psychologically, Ditchling always seems like the low point in my circuits, mainly because there is a hill to run up whether you’re heading south or north.  Today the hill going south, Ditchling Beacon, seemed pretty straightforward, but when I reached the top I was intensely disappointed to see it had taken me 1.05 to get there.  I vaguely remember having reached there in 45 minutes on one occasion, so to take 20 minutes longer beggared belief.

But it was glorious up there and for a moment or two I had the certainty that, of all the people in Sussex who had their feet on the ground, mine was the highest head.

Confused by the time, I headed back, pausing at Oldlands on the way way to admire the view.

When I got back to Ockley Lane I started to run a  little harder than normal, based on the piteous time I had taken to get to the Beacon.  I was surprised how much energy I still had and I kept the pressure on right up until the end, hustling down the last quarter mile as if I had the Bok breathing down my neck.

And then I was really confused.  If it had taken me 1.05 to get to Ditchling Beacon, then it had just taken me 32 minutes to get back… something was clearly amiss!

Fortunately, with the aid of the time code on my photos, I was able to determine that I must had read my watch incorrectly, though goodness knows how.  I think the outbound leg actually took me 50 minutes and the return 47.  1.37 overall to do 10.2 miles… 6.3mph average and despite my pre-run fears, no pain whatsoever!