Just checking in to report that I had a good run. It was a good run because I enjoyed it, because the autumn colours were stunning in the slowly fading sun light, because the cold felt comforting rather than biting and because it’s been a pretty perfect Sunday so far.
Sundays should always be like this. There were giggles and smiles, un-put-downable books, coffee in the garden, cold noses, gardening projects done together, frogs and logs for the fire (no, just the logs are for the fire, not the frogs, they’re happy in the pond which will soon be bigger) and the cosy warmth from that come from that. There were cosy cats and inquisitive cats and cats being chased by dogs (well, one cocky little Einstein being chased by a dog he probably got too close to) and now there’s cats enjoying the fire.
Running should also always be like this too. I pushed myself, I’m sweaty and the last hill before home resulted in jelly legs and stupid huffing and puffing but it was just nice to be out, to be moving, to feel my body warm up, to feel everything work as it should, to look around, see the ducks along the canal and the geese flying overhead. It felt the right sort of hard and now I am going to join the cats and curl up with Einstein and we can finish off our Sunday in perfect style