Run

A steady drizzle falls, yet a run is a good chance to have a few minutes out the house.  Ensconced in fleece and woolly hat, at odds with the shorts and trainers on my bottom half, I walk briskly through the cemetery for a warm up.  At the other end, I find a wall to use for stretches.  Stretches in chilly drizzle, looking like a proper athlete.

"Are you alright?" asks a lady, concerned. 

I push on regardless of such insolence.

This is not my first flirtation with running.  About 5 years ago I got into it to the point where I was regularly running 8 or 9 miles.  At one point, I even did a half marathon.  Unfortunately, no-one was there to see it, given that it was the result of getting lost in the back lanes of Normandy and doing about 7 miles more than I'd planned to do.  I walked a bit stiffly for the rest of that holiday.

That running phase came to an end when I badly tweaked my IT band, which has always been a persistent issue for me, and never got back into it subsequently.  I discover now that my stride might have something to do with that - I'd always assumed getting your foot out in front and striking with your heel was a good thing to do.  Turns out that's entirely (probably) the wrong thing to be doing. 

As the drizzle continues, I reach the corner of my road, and I've done 1.5 miles at 9:38min pace, which I'm pretty pleased with. I decide that this is probably a good distance to stick with for the next couple of weeks at least.