Today I completed four runs.
- I took a child to a Parkrun, where he felt too ill to run, so we walked together. 5km of discomfort for him and a dose of parent guilt for me.
- I took another child swimming and our lift home was delayed: a 2km scamper in my vest, flesh withering in the February gales, and my child (wearing my jumper) on my back.
- A dog run: 5km involving a squirrel and a pulled muscle.
- Finally, I parked my car and the meter ate my money without giving me a ticket. Cue a 400m gallop to town and back.
Days like these.
I’ve started to daydream about meeting a friend, running for a few miles — enjoying the leg burn and the lovely view — then maybe downing a pint in a pub, eating a pie, and going home to read the papers.
Or perhaps just running together. Friendship. Simple warmth.
There’s something refreshingly simple about dreaming of a run
we just run.