Five weeks away, heat, humidity and the lethargy of soaring temperatures and cloudless skies.
A French love affair... with water. Deep, dark rivers, shallow, sparkling streams, lost, languid lakes... and endless, endless draughts of ice cold water.
After my first early morning runs at the start of the holiday in the Dordogne, ( My last post), the temperature just rose, and rose. Early morning outings began to become impossible. If I got out for my run early, ( before 6.30), by the time I returned, it was already, simply too hot. The long summer days bought an average temperature of 38 degrees and we had two days of 41 and 42... the snail shell was cracking with the heat, aliboo70 , and the pace of my runs matched the pace of my old namesake. The Grey snail, became the Pink snail and gradually the running had to stop.
So... water... the only answer.. drinking it, splashing around in it, kayaking on it, swimming in it.
I started with glorious early, mist-tinged, runs by the Vezere, in Le Bugue... and, when the running had to stop, I kayaked on the Dordogne and the Vezere, and on one memorable, magical day, I swam...and swam, and swam, through the coolness; silken fronds of river weed caressing my skin, beneath huge, mature trees, towering above me, their green- laden branches touching the water's edge and affording a welcome shade; I swam, just above the convergence of these two mighty rivers.. above a stunning place called Limeuil.
Cycling, swimming, late night saunters by the river's edge and the hedonistic pleasures of the tantalising taste of French flavours, and days, lazily lost, in the languid daze and haze of heat... the homeward journey North, bringing little relief; and despite happy days, long sultry evenings, new friends, new places and the golden glow of the French countryside...I did, I confess, miss my runs and my forum friends.
So...back home and this morning my first run in nearly three weeks. Awake early, with the sense of anticipation prevalent, for me anyway, on Christmas morning. A slight apprehension also.. would the legs work, would the breathing be steady.. would I remember how? Silly, funny niggly little thoughts running through my head as I laced up my shoes and headed out into the coolness of an English morning.
No music, no podcast, just me.. heading for my fields. Be sensible, I told myself, you need to pace yourself. Down the hill, a brisk walk to the station and a slow, gentle run up the lane , to my track ways and pathways. The sky, laden with greyness, just the tiniest tear in the cloud, allowing the merest glimpse of blue. I was running just fine, the familiarity of the place, lending a steadiness to my pace. In my head, the familiar mantras of our forum. slow and steady, relaxed and easy. Loosen the shoulders, unclench the fists and enjoy the moment. I am unused to returning from France at this time...it is usually later, when Autumn already has a toe in the Season's door. The colour of the land, was a surprise. hedgerows, still thick and lush, the fields, cropped, mowed, and yellowy- brown when I left, have a dense crop of juicy green stems, the early dew still clinging and soaking my feet as I run. My majestic Oak, branches still presenting a living barrier to the sky.
High above ,a buzzard is mewing, and in front of me, as I run, the English countryside stretches into the far haze of the hills of the Staffordshire moorlands and into Derbyshire. The air in France, is clear and unmistakable. The air here is closer and has a fuzziness this morning, it is wonderful.
The cycling and swimming have obviously kept me healthy. I was running with no shortness of breath and a really even stride. Across the big field.. the golden crop has gone and the land lies heavy, newly ploughed, rich and loamy, waiting for the next sowing. The footpath has gone.. ploughed over, with just the first signs of footprints, which will in time, beat down the earth and form a way through. Across to the next village and then I turn for home. Encouraged by my performance, I run up the hill to the Bridle path and then turn down for the station again. My legs were beginning to feel tired now, so I slowed down and by the time I had passed the cottages, I was almost down to a walk. As I neared the station, I could see the queue of cars..the barrier was down.. so.. a sprint finish and across the road before the barriers went up... Finish in style, ( as our Laura would say)... I did!
Gosh, it is so good to be back. I've missed you folks!
PS
Apology for a no-run ramble, I came over all Robert Browning, Home Thoughts from Abroad, style 
Lucky youx
Need to push myself 😭
Return to Parkrun 
And back to earth...
