Warning... There has not been one for a while....Floss ramble …
The run today was quite simply... gorgeous.
A glorious morning as I set out to complete the last run of the second week of my HM plan... I am as ever, being the sensible snail...increasing my pace following the 10% rule... although today.... ( well more of that later).
Out into the day and a really brisk warm up walk...down the hill, with a brief photo stop to capture the ever changing splendour of the mountains and the sea; the clouds this morning, lying like huge soft bolsters, atop a bed of blues and greens and shadowy grey.
I often start some of my longer runs, here at the coast,from the same point; the run begins with a slight incline and makes me start slowly... even a snail can move too quickly sometimes.
Rounding the top of the hill, the view never ceases to take away my breath.; a sky of almost unbelievable blueness, its image reflected and thrown back by a looking glass sea. The castle, flags flying, on its rocky pedestal, the waves, on this morning lapping submissively at its splintered feet. A quick detour again up a slight incline and quick stop for a photograph of the town nestling below... Under Milkwood comes to mind,and the words of Dylan Thomas echo, across time, from the amateur dramatic performances of my past, and into my thoughts...
“To stroll among our trees and stray
In Goosegog Lane, on Donkey Down,
And hear the Dewi sing all day,
And never, never leave the town. “
Moving on and down the hill, swiftly, my legs feel light and the sun is warm... down, down, towards the little town , past the sleeping houses, the small field with the sheep, already indolent and contented as they lie in the thickening grass. Along and up to the cross roads.. another small detour, trying to pop in some inclines to increase my strength and stamina...down past the Memorial Hall... bunting-ed and bedecked for some future function, and along the High Street. The hotel, dining room, empty on Friday, full this morning; a coach load of travellers, sleek, silver haired, and sated, after a full Welsh breakfast, ready to sample the perilous delights of the narrow navigations around Snowdonia
On mornings like this... my legs take over... and I am able to revel in the world around me... breathing easily, landing lightly and heading out of the town towards the small village where Lloyd George was born.... I pass Lon Fel... once the site of the home of Lloyd George and his family... and no, he did not...” know my father”... I am old, but not that old.
On under the welcome shade of the trees, the pavement uneven and tricky with tree roots threatening the surface,] trickles of water, off the fields and from hidden streams, and everywhere the heady scent of wild garlic; on past the entrance to Bron Eifion, and there, I should have turned; but a small voice urged me on....just to the sign to the next village...the birthplace of Lloyd George A quick photo stop, and I did turn and head back towards the town... turning down past the tennis courts and towards the sea.. the tantalising scent of toast and coffee, drifting from the open windows of the B & B on the corner, turning down a little known road and through a gap in the hedge and round towards the playing fields and the school.
The sun really warming me now, as I run past two small boys playing in the street behind the large seafront B & Bs on Marine Terrace, under the watchful eye of Dad, in a window seat....they shout a cheery, ' Hi' to me.. as I run on... My feet hardly seem to touch the ground and my breathing is steady... the stamina and strength exercises pay off, and I do not feel like heading for home...again.. the words of another poet are there, unbidden; words I have used so many times in my running ramble... Wordsworth's Prelude, I am , yet again,
“....Proud and exulting like an untired horse that cares not for his home. “
The smell of the sea,that tang of ozone, filling my nostrils as I run towards the coastal path, past two dog walkers... I do not pause, but head on along the narrow pathway, the fields on one side the sea on the other. I should have been running for home... but, as the path opens before me I simply have to run; dusty and dry,hedges embroidered with meadow sweet, ragged robin, dandelions and thick green grass... through the kissing gate and on and on until I reach the far stony beach.... A last quick photo and then I do have to retrace my steps...I was only going for a short run...
Back along the lower promenade and up the flight of steps.. my pace this morning has hardly varied, and I head up the back street, Lon Bach and through to Tan y Grisiau Terrace and down towards the lifeboat station, I feel as if I could run for ever...! Along the Esplanade and it is done...my designated 8K has turned into a 10K.. and to quote our lovely Marvo69 .. “I could not help myself “
A perfect run... and yes, sometimes, even snails have attitude
PS
Snail photo courtesy of my awesome running friend Millsie-J ,who turned me from a Grey snail, into a Golden snail
Hill run challenge 2nd session !
Something I forgot to say in my last post 
