Recovery

Since the Firle half I've done a couple of short runs, and thanks to a mystifying problem in loading data from my Garmin, posterity will have to get by without the details. One, on Sunday, at the same time as more serious athletes tackled the Lewes Downland Ten Mile, was the usual Seaford Head trip, but enlivened by filthy weather. I had been due to skipper a rescue boat, but sailing was cancelled. With eyes screwed up I ran into the rain, and skidded as I went down the slippery descents on the other side of Seaford Head.

On the very top four golfers played their game, stoically. I usually despise the game but these seemed to have the proper Spartan spirit, that same sado-masochistic complusions that sends runners out on days like this. I saluted them silently as comrades.

There's been some swimming too, but that deserves be a post in its own right. I have made an interesting discovery. As part of the Brighton White Night festival, on the night when the clocks go back, there's a midnight half-marathon. I've never run at midnight before.