2015: Resurrection

[Sweder]

A return to the hills, to cold winter sun, pockets of ice, and to mud. Lots and lots of mud.
Two kilometres or so, maybe closer to three, an hour after jetlag's Long Sleep Of The Dead. I spent a good deal of the twenty-or-so minutes tip-toeing along the slick camber of Landport Bottom. My knee, swollen after yesterday's journey, complained a good deal less than my lungs.

On the return, a vertiable scamper across the top of the field, my breathing settled. It's the first sign of 'normal', that blissful respite after the early, high-chested struggle. It gives me hope. More short sessions to come, maybe even an interval or two. Happy days.