Looking out of my kitchen window this morning I was in two minds as to whether I would head into the great outdoors for a run today. The rain was battering against the glass. The eucalyptus trees at the entrance to the rear yard were bowing to the power of the wind. It was tempting to stay indoors, but the worm of conscience was proding me outwards.
In view of the weather I determined upon a forest run. Sensible you might think, but as the forest roads and paths act as firebreaks they tend to be very straight and if they happen to run in the same direction as the prevailing wind then you are in a wind tunnel. I was for the first thousand yards of my run. Not enjoyable. Not easy. But then I turned right. Suddenly there was no wind pushing at me. Suddenly I was running free of the clawing fingers of winter's draught. This was easy running. Another ninety degree turn and the wind was at my back accelerating my progress. Oh that I could run at that speed and with that lack of effort all the time. Two long thirty minute laps and I called a halt to my exertions. The weather had not been nice. It had been windy and it had been wet, but at the end there was a sense of achievement.
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