7 August 2018
My fourth Running School appointment fell on what felt like the hottest day yet. The temperature was in the thirties when I left home and the humidity level was off the scale. In my rucksack a big camelback water bottle was slowly defrosting. When I got up this morning I filled it and put it in the freezer. Somehow I didn’t think it was going to last the whole walk so I was desperately trying to ration my sips. Unlike my previous two sessions, which were both early afternoon, this one was at midday so I was going to have to walk home too. Continue reading The hottest walk and a bad descision
26 July 2018
This morning I had my third appointment at the Running School. To be honest, after the camping and travelling I wasn’t feeling the love. Neither was I entirely convinced I’d get through it. What I really should have been doing, once I got home, was resting and stretching, with maybe a little bit of practicing the glute bridges, twisting stretches and the like. There’d been barely any time for all that though. What with the unpacking, washing, shopping, Old Cemetery visiting, picture taking at the mile race, editing and posting said photos, trying to catch up with the newsletter writing, blah, blah, blah, I’d barely had time to blink.
Continue reading Change of plan
As soon as I left the shade of the woods and stepped out into the sun on the shore I could feel the heat. The sun seemed to be searing my skin even though I’d slathered on the cream before I left home. There is no shade along the promenade unless you duck into one of the little beach shelters but I couldn’t just stay sat in one of them until nightfall so I set off along the shore, thankful that there was at least a cooling breeze blowing up from the water. Continue reading A cool breeze on the shore – first published 22 July 2014
My mid July walk in 2014 had started off on a sour note but had soon improved when I had an up close and personal visit with a black swan. As I walked on towards the reed beds and, ultimately, the White Swan pub, I sipped my water. The early morning rain combined with the sun seemed to have sucked up all the air and left behind a damp stickiness. Even along the river there was little breeze and my pace slowed considerably. Still, I told myself this was not about speed but about getting out and walking, enjoying the nature around me and the sun on my skin, if not the sweat trickling down between my shoulder blades. Continue reading Monks Brook, heat and an invasive species – first published 14 July 2014
14 July 2016
Today I planned to take CJ to see the boundary stone on Old Redbridge Bridge, then cross the flyover to Totton, visit Eling Tide Mill and come back via the boardwalk across the Test estuary. In the end, events conspired against us and things didn’t turn out quite how I expected. Continue reading A boundary stone reprise
20 June 2016
This afternoon I had my second outing with the fancy pants camera.
“I’m going to the Itchen Bridge to do Kenyan Hills,” Commando said, not long after he got up. “Why don’t you bring the new camera and get some practice using sport mode before the RR10 on Wednesday?”
“What are Kenyan Hills?” I asked.
“Basically you run up and down hills one after another to improve your stamina. The Spitfires usually do them on Monday training sessions, six times across the Itchen Bridge, but I always miss them because I have to work.”
Frankly it sounded very much like torture that should probably be banned under the Geneva Convention, especially on humid days but Commando did have a point about practicing with the camera so I went along. Continue reading Sport mode and Kenyan Hills
5 to 8 August 2015
It was already sticky and uncomfortable when I left for my Wednesday walk to work and, after two short weeks, I was feeling quite sulky and cross at the prospect of four ten hour days ahead. The sky was a mass of puffy fish scale clouds that seemed one step away from mammatus clouds, those rare upside down bobbles of cloud hanging downwards where most coulds puff upwards. As I walked I eyed them, hoping they’d change but they didn’t. Continue reading Dog days of summer