My enforced rest seems to have paid dividends and I have finally managed to run without pain or at least without dodgy pain – my quads are currently screaming but it’s that satisfying well earned sort of discomfort.
We were on a pre-Christmas trip to see my parents on the east coast. I’d planned a road run to test out the state of my calf but the sun hadn’t made it this far north and the side streets were still covered with six inches of sheet ice. I thought it may be safer to opt for a beach run instead.
I don’t think I’ve run any distance along the beach before and I have to say it was incredibly liberating. This particular stretch of the beach has very firm sand and was it deliciously deserted after the mornings downpour. Lynn ran the first stretch with me, heading away from the town and towards the distant headline. We hugged the tideline and slowly made our way towards the horizon.
Lynn turned back before me but I wanted to run past the row of WWII pill boxes that had slumped lethargically onto the beach. The sand turned soft around the ruined landmarks and with fear of finding myself wading through quicksand I decided to head back as well.
I hate the feel of sand between my toes and the sea was so blasted cold it awoke my latent arthritis.
I managed about 200 metres of barefoot running before I decided to put my shoes back on and enjoy the remainder of my run with the delightful experience of micro particles of grit rubbing between foot and shoe.
I’m so happy to be back, I love running.