I fell out with the Wednesday night runners (well some of them) last June and didn't do any more Wednesday night runs for the rest of the summer.
I went back to head torch, over the winter (they weren't so annoying when I couldn't see them) but now the light nights are here I have to swallow my pride and go back to running with the old gits.
Last week was nice despite it being very foggy/claggy. We ran around in the mist and had a nice time.
This week it was from the Fleece and unfortunately (!) I was late to get there. So I parked on Penistone Hill and ran, by myself, across the moor to Top Withins of Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heighs fame.
Running is a funny thing.
You often set off, as I did on Wedneday, thinking about how cold it is and how you should have worn an extra layer (what if I perish on the moor), about how the sofa was nice and comfy (why did I leave it) and about how it is a bit lonely by yourself (hope there are no weir wolves).
But before you know it ...........you are speeding back on springy tracks, really cosy and happy cause you've just run all the way up all the steep hills, moving quickly in the dusk, with the incentive of getting off the moor before the dark and ...............just loving the fact you've been out.
Running's great like that.
And I did go to the pub afterwards to be sociable. Ram Tam helps with such things.
Brutalist Bus Stop
11 hours ago