Okay, so it wasn’t that bad. But there’s a place at the top of the village where there’s been a ‘flood’ sign for months. The flood is generally a very big puddle that spans the road. After heavy rain it gets trickier, but for the most part it’s not too bad. Except for today – when it was a small ice rink, with frozen snow in the middle. Not surprisingly, I slowed down and walked very gingerly across. Once over, the rest of the road looked clear, and I began to run. Until a shady piece of road, and another patch of ice. That set the tone for the next mile or so: sunny road – run, shady road – walk. This is stupid, I said to myself, I missed parkrun yesterday because I thought it might be slippy, and now I’m trying to run on THIS.
Walking carefully up one particularly icy hill, looking for safe places to put my feet, it occurred to me that I might have more difficulty going back down the hill. Nothing for it then, I thought, I’ll just have to keep going. I took my time, and enjoyed the peace and solitude. Then I arrived at a junction and was relieved to see that the road I was planning to take was in full sun and free of ice. I ran down it with a light heart. The rest of my run, to the sea at Lilstock Beach, was mostly clear of ice and snow. I hadn’t originally planned to run as far as Lilstock. But as I’d had to walk so much, I thought I’d better go further to make sure that I ran for at least 8 KM of the distance. I passed scenery that was simply breathtaking. The rolling hills, snow-topped in the distance, looked so different that I felt like I’d gone much further. I had a moment of panic, feeling very far from home. What if I hurt myself? I thought, how will I get back home from here? I had to remind myself that I was really just a couple of miles from home. It just looked different, more beautiful, more isolated.