Last run of Week 8 this morning. It was very damp, very misty and not overly warm as I left the house. I felt a frisson of excitement, (or was that just the chilly morning), as I set out on run 3 of this penultimate week.
I thought that I would follow what has been a favourite route for me, since I started the programme, as next week I shall be following a slightly different route! The village was quiet, even for a Sunday, as I ran down the hill; the drizzle...which was just a drizzle... when I left home, was already becoming steadily heavier. Tucking my newly bought Buff further into my top, ( thanks everyone who advised me to get one).. I headed along by the station and turned up the hill towards the school. Found the hill a little tougher this morning, and quite glad there was no one about to witness my slow pace and my red cheeks; I had forgotten that this hill, so near the start of a run, has always taxed me a little.
Turning along by the school, the mist hung over the silent playground, the dinnertime picnic tables forlorn and empty in the school garden area. The hedge overhanging the narrow pathway by the side of the school was prickly and dripping wet, and seemed determined to hamper my pace. It was a relief to turn upwards to the Old Road which runs along the top of the village.
Still maintaining a steady pace, the view in front of me was strangely different. Most mornings, even in the rain, I have had a great view of the fields stretching away towards the town, but this morning, the damp mist clothed the middle and far distance like a wet, grey blanket. The road was strewn with small broken branches, evidence of the strong winds from last night...still and quiet now, the trees seemed to hold their breath as I ran, my footsteps echoing against the tall hedgerows.
I am. as those of you who read my posts know, prone, to flights of imagination...and this morning was no different. I have to admit though, to a slight feeling of unease, as I made my way to the turn at the end of the lane. A quick glance behind, assured me I was not being followed, and yet the feeling, of something or someone stayed with me until I made the turn for the downward run back to the village. A feeling of being watched... most odd and unnerving.
Laura's voice, reassuringly told me I had five minutes to run... all was well...! The five minutes passed in a comfortable blur as I headed back to the main road through the village. I had done it...down to a five minute walk... and again, the faithful Laura telling me how well I had done!
I had survived... Week 7 and the hidden watchers in the Old Road....!
Question is.. will I survive Week 9...and... will I run that way again on Tuesday???
Watch this space. 
SPECIAL K
