Sunday was not the warmest of days but at least it wasn't snowing. It was however very icy when I poked my head out of the kitchen door at nine o'clock.
Having broken my fast I inspected the state of the roads. Too slippery to run on, but fine to drive on at a modest speed. A day for a beach run methought and I accordingly set off for the north coast.
The closer I got to the shore the less frost there was. By the time I was within four or five miles of the brimey the roads were entirely clear of brine and the frost sign was appearing and disappearing on the car dashboard. The wind was gusting and the grey waves moved threateningly towards the dunes. Before I ventured on to the beach I ran a few miles on the surrounding roads. Dog walkers marched to and fro on the sands chasing their recalcitrant best friends. I should probably have clocked up a few more miles than I did but eight miles seemed a reasonable distance in the circumstances of the morning's weather.
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