Firstly, apologies to Nick_Buddha_12 , the lost for words, did not last long 
This is an Oldfloss run-ramble...those folk who know me, know, I can't help it...sorry!
My Sunday run was quite simply, splendid.
After my last two experiences on my running journey, the magic of the moment, and the sheer exuberance of Mother Nature, in one of her wilder moods, Sunday morning's run was intended to be slow, relaxed and calm.
I woke early and headed out before the world was fully awake. It was a glorious morning, the sky, a pure, almost continuous blue, high above; a clear page, just waiting for the child and the white chalk.
All was silent, as I walked out of my Close and onto the hill, the warmth of the sun, even at this early hour, seeping into my shoulders, as I headed up towards the roundabout. Two birds, Seagulls, this morning, absent for the last few runs, up there, perched, unmoving and watchful, silent, white guardians of the thoroughfare beneath. No podcast on, this morning, no music, just the sounds of the May morning and me.
Warmed up and feeling very relaxed, I turned and ran very slowly and gently down to the station. The times like this, on a Sunday morning are quite extraordinary, I feel as if I am the only person awake, the sound of my feet and the beat of my heart, echoing in an empty, outdoor room.
Down past the station and up the hill, past Rookery Wood. I was running quite steadily and breathing easily, determined this morning, to drink in the pure nectar of the sights around me. The sunshine and rainfall, of the last week had created changes... an escalation of new growth and colour, every tree and bush, undergrowth, leaf and flower. The wood hushed, the nests remain, but the young rooks, long fledged and elsewhere. I ran all the way up the hill to Bridle Path corner. I find it hard to believe how, in past weeks, I struggled with this hill, so many times and in all weathers. Now, on this bright morning, it seemed like a distant memory; past the cottages, past the bike still propped at the front door of the end cottage, the greenery replaced now with small spring plants, yellow and green spilling over the front of the bike. I pulled back a little and took a slower pace as I ran down the hill and along the lane to the next village. The pavement, if it can be called a pavement, pitted and uneven, as I ran towards the village square, the stocks, empty. of course, under the massive Oak. Around the square and along past the school.. back along the Green and down the hill, and up again ,returning to the square.
The hedgerows, as I ran past, exploding into such a profusion of greens, as to take your breath away. Keeping a very steady pace, I ran back and through the large field gate back onto the big field.( A quick photograph here). This field, not barren now, but with short, stocky green blades...pushing through the dry brown earth in endless military rows. Because this field is flattish, it is a temptation to run faster, but I was still enjoying the run, and did not want to push it...so down one side of the big field and back up again... along the track, slowly towards the rail line... on the flattest bit, I did speed up... not sure how fast, but I was slightly out of puff at the line. I stopped to take a photograph of the dandelion clocks, growing between the sleepers. Then, as time was pressing, a faster pace down along the track and out on the small private road leading to the hill again The potholes, puddle-filled in wet weather and ankle- twisters in dry, were gone, and the whole track/road filled with small, reddish gravel! It was hard to run safely, like running on a shingle beach! Having slowed right down I continued at the same pace, under the avenue of massive trees leading down to the railway station. The branches of the trees on either side, meeting and touching, over the road, making a huge, shadowy canopy with the sky, peeping through the fretwork greenery. Again, a quick stop for another photograph. Then, back over the main road and a gentle jog home.
A satisfying and heart-lifting run. Body and mind refreshed and free of all tension and discord. Happy memories, too, of my teaching time, when I used the poem, Spring Song, with my small people... and we created a full length mural, at the back of the classroom, with blue and greens and the children's own poems!
About 7.25 K with three, quick photograph stops, in approximately 55 minutes. Slow, satisfying and a great start to the day.
The poem is below, if anyone fancies reading it
SPRING SONG
Have you ever seen such green, such green?
Have you ever seen such blue,
as the woods in April when they blink
and a bit of the sky looks through?
And the light — the light is tiny and bright in every blob of dew?
Have you ever seen such green, such green?
Have you ever seen such blue?
Jean Kenward
PS
I know it's May, not April, I just felt the poem fitted.
Has it all gone Pete Tong?
