March On

[Sweder]

A combination of Friday evenings' festivities, yesterdays' time trial, half a night spent comforting a poorly daughter and changing clocks put the kaibosh on my Sunday run. The alarm did its' duty at six forty-five, Nokia cleverly automatically docking an hour during the night, but as sometimes happens in that strange place between sleep and awake I hit 'off' instead of 'snooze' and finally opened my eyes at eight thirty. The sigh that escaped my lips was part frustration at having missed the run and part relief; I don't do well on lack of sleep.

So for the first Sunday in a long while I sat back and let Jake rustle up a wonderfully unhealthy brunch, suasages, bacon, baked beans, leeks, mushrooms, scrambled egg, toast, juice and coffee. What a treat! It took until two pm for the feast to settle in my ample belly by which time my conscience and shame had conspired to force me out onto the downs. The five mile loop around Blackcap was a stodgy outing, heavy footfalls gouging large scars into the rain-sodden turf. Not for the first time this spring I was thankful for my decision not to run a marathon this year. The freedom to steal a lazy Sunday here and there is a treasure to be cherished.