March On

[Sweder]

An evil, eviscerating wind scoured out of the west, intent on scrubbing all warm-blooded life from the blasted tundra. Even the tall grasses, normally golden strands waving on the breeze, were blanched white, bent in supplication in the face of such an onslaught. My recovery run, initially to assess possible fall-out from yesterday’s long'un, soon became a matter of survival. In no time my solid frontage became a frozen slab of lard. Sweat popped out on my forehead to fall to the freeze-dried earth in icy droplets.

The calf whined a bit but was no worse than sore. History shows this needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later so I'll schedule a visit to the Iron-fingered Lady in the near future. Otherwise the inevitable stiffness faded after a couple of miles, blood finally warm enough to bring life back to tired limbs. Today’s track du jour was always going to be a pick-me-up, and Mr Cooper obliged with back-to-back classics. First up ZZ Top with the classic Tush, followed, inevitably one might say after such blatantly misogynistic revelations, by ACDC with Shot Down In Flames. That Alice, he’s such a wag . . .

Rarely has a hot shower provided such intense relief; it truly felt like a thawing today. I could tell that the water was hot because the bathroom filled rapidly with steam. However it took several minutes before I could feel the warmth (and then scalding heat) from the cascading water. The forecast this week is for ice and snow. Bring it on.