Back to normality

I've not been all that well recently. I've been poorly for about six weeks now, all starting with a month-long period. And, to be honest, I've been a cranky sod (so my parents tell me), which has been pretty grim for everyone who has regular contact with me.


But this week, I've felt a glimmer of hope: slowly but surely, I've started to feel more like myself once more. My eyes feel wide open for the first time in weeks, and I finally feel like I have some energy...exercise has been almost completely absent from my life in these past few weeks, as I've been unable to recover properly so my endorphin levels have been incredibly lacking...no wonder I've been such a grumpy sod...Anyway! Basically, compared to my usual adventurous, energetic lifestyle, I've been tired just trying to exist.


So I hatched a plan - if I was still feeling well the next day, I'd bloody well go for it and get out for a run. Just a short one mind, but long enough to stretch my legs and get my heart pumping.


Saturday dawned. My heart and head felt strong, so I practically threw myself out of bed with all the excitement that Christmas brings (oh boy, I cannot wait for Christmas!!!) and layered up well.

The morning was truly glorious, full of that late autumn crispness that I've been craving - so many such mornings that I feel like I've missed out on of late, so I intended on enjoying this one as much as I could. I laced up my trail shoes, walked out to the back garden and hopped through the gap in the hedge.

The first few shuddering breaths made me gasp - the cold hitting my chest knocked any lingering grogginess from my body. The sun was so bright it glinted off the frosty crops, and it burst through the patchy fog that kept threatening to shroud the trees.

Regretting my lack of sunglasses

I jogged slowly through the fields, inhaling deeply, enjoying trotting along faster than a walking pace for a change, relishing in my renewed energy.

Over styles, bridges crossing brooks, disturbing buzzards on fence posts, the route wound towards Grinshill. It's a run I've completed so many times before, yet this time it felt a little different, purely because it wasn't just a training run. It was me getting out and enjoying running for the joy and calmness that it instils.

It's always hard going, reaching the top. Today I trudged , puffed and spluttered my way up, rather than six months previously where I'd've skipped up with relative ease.  But the achievement of reaching the summit with never grow old. I've been climbing Grinshill since I was 5 years old, and yet the view never seems to lose its appeal - long stretches of field today were partially swathed in mist, whilst the south Shropshire Hills were just visible in the distance.

My eyes ran profusely as I tentatively made my way back down and past my old school, not wanting to overdo it and turn my ankle on a root or rock that's smothered in leaves.

I made it home shortly after, shoes and legs muddied, hands chilly, and mood lifted.

I'm back gang. I'm so glad to be back.