The day's activities took longer than planned, the way they should at the weekend. Lounged a bit too long over coffee. Took a bit longer than expected before going out shopping. Lingered over lunch in a French cafe, enjoying the bread and the coffee. Didn't rush round the supermarket.
So it is already gone 4 and the light of the winter's day just starting to fade as I tighten my laces and head out into the chilly afternoon. No real plans on where to go as I set out except that it would be good to do at least 10 miles. I hesitate in the drive, pondering options, then turn right, the route almost planning itself from that simple choice. Out of the village, watching the dying rays of the sun peeping from behind the low cloud. I would go.up to the old drove road, under the motorway, loop south through the woods and then home via more woods and fields. All paths and tracks run a hundred times before, comfortable and welcoming in their familiarity as the post Christmas running routine re-establishes itself.
Gentle running, trying to keep my heart rate and breathing under control, up the long hill to the drove, then enjoying the long easy downhill on the hard ancient track. Fieldfares chackchacking from the hedges. A sparrowhawk looping ahead of me in the evening light. Landing in a tree and waiting for me before taking easy flight along the lane.
Climbing into the woods it starts to feel darker, I get the headtorch out of my bag, but I'm loath to switch it on yet, not wanting to impose its unnatural light on the grey winter dusk filtering into the trees and bushes. Owls start their company-seeking hoots, and I run quietly, feeling a part of the big wild outdoors, hardly seen in the gathering gloom.
The last few miles take me uphill, back towards the still glowing western sky, Venus shining so brightly that I feel that I am running by planetlight. Too dark to run without my torch, but I do it anyway, relying on the sky-reflecting warning of puddles and on sheer providence to avoid fallen branches and unseen holes.
The road back into the village is barely visible, but the narrow strip of light between the tall dark hedges leads me on until houses and warm front rooms appear. And I am home again.
