December

[Sweder]

This morning a laboured attempt to start the new month as I mean to continue.

Heeding Dan's recently offered words of wisdom I considered a truncated plod around the town ... for all of 30 seconds. Then, emerging from my warm abode into the clearest, crispest of winter mornings I sucked in a lungful of clear chilled air and turned towards the hills. Days like this are meant for running off-road; I simply couldn't resist.

Blue skies, high thin cloud, a beaming winter sun doing its very best to warm the land. Shadows bejeweled with sparkling frost, hiding from the sun's long, thin fingers, winked playfully as I shuffled by. The brackish troughs of yesterday were almost dry, thirsty chalk sucking the moisture through the mud to leave a deep layer of treacherous slime at the start of my run. I tiptoed through the swamp until free at last to scamper across the firm, white-capped turf of the sheep-field. Our woolly neighbours have recently returned to graze on the meager flora. They ignored our puffing, panting possy, steadfastly chomping the fragile grass to the quick, black noses pressed against the cold, hard ground.

My thoughts turned to the recently-reported* plight of one Ingemar Westlund, a Swedish gentleman recently bereaved in bizarre circumstances. Concerned that his wife had been walking the dogs for much longer than usual he set out to search the locale, only to find her badly mauled body in nearby woodland. Despite calling the police himself Mr Westlund was promptly arrested as the prime suspect in what appeared to be a rather nasty homicide. He was released 10 days later when forensic studies revealed the purpetrator to be an elk. It appears that this usually mild-mannered, people-fearing beast had become fatally aggressive after gorging itself on partly-fermented apples. Pity poor Mr Westlund; not only has he lost his wife, he must now and forever explain the bizarre nature of his wife's untimely demise at the hands - or hooves - of an intoxicated elk.

No such dangers on the Sussex downs this morning. The greatest risk to my health came from the slippery terrain. My radar stood on full alert, scanning the ground ahead for potential ankle-breaking flint, camouflaged rabbit holes, slippery tree-roots and clumps of sodden earth thick with malicious intent. Skating safely though the last hundred yards of clawing slurry I arrived home mud-speckled, breathless but happy. I plan to reduce the distance and increase the frequency of runs in the weeks ahead in an effort to reaffirm a solid return to training. For now it's the stinging embrace of an almost-too-hot shower and a day in the office.



*story courtesy of the Independent