It just dawned on me......

   After such a wonderful holiday in Menorca, bathed in glorious sunshine, bedazzled by scintillating

Sunrise by Emley Moor transmitting station.....(click to enlarge)

seascapes and bobbing white boats, the last ten days have been somewhat anti-climactic. Coming home to routine runs in old familiar places seems a teeny bit boring after the rocky trails around Alcaufar. Tripping over a rabbit on Castle Hill doesn't quite compare with the excitement of discovering a tortoise wandering across the path in the early dawn. My garden doesn't have the luxury of a pool to dive into when I get home from a run drenched with sweat in the 75º heat. Nor does it have the blazing bougainvilleas, oleanders or hibiscus to brighten my days. And the fact it's been raining almost every day in the Balearics since we came home is no consolation. It was beautiful whilst we were there and the memories are treasured.

   A little reluctantly last week I crept out of the house while most of the village was still in bed to ease the old legs back into some sort of running routine, though some lines of Shelley kept coming to mind (I can't remember which poem they're from):

....and I, I know not if to pray
still to be what I am, or yield and be
like all the other men I see...

In other words, whether to run or pack it in, but decided there is still some mileage left in the old dog (though probably not very much!) and until I find a new pipe and slippers under the Christmas tree I'll try to carry on running.

  

Autumn tints on Castle Hill side...

    While on holiday we ran every morning just as dawn was breaking, while it was still reasonably cool, though I'm not, or ever have been,

a morning person. Nor can I run on an empty stomach so I'll have a quick coffee and maybe half a cereal bar before venturing out to sniff the air. In a masochistic sort of way I came to enjoy those morning runs and decided to try some after I got home. Oddly, in the 36 years I've lived here, I've rarely seen the sun rise, mainly because my house faces due north. Last week I saw it four times - and have photographs to prove it. Furthermore, in spite of the early hour, I seemed to be running very easily so finished up turning some steady runs into fartlek sessions.

   I'd some urgent need for speed on one occasion when I came across a newborn calf lying on the path shielded by its

Bull fight - Big Daddy versus an heir presumptuous...

mum. Except mum had a raggy tuft hanging from its belly and a funny shaped little udder with no teats. It was in fact a proud dad who lowered his head and advanced towards me, a move that prompted a quick change of pace whilst simultaneously calculating if I could reach the next stile before this lumbering half ton of beef? Thankfully, he decided not to make a race of it. He'd done his duty and returned to the sleeping calf. However, I didn't hang around to get a picture of this unusual bull and calf scenario. When returning home, mum was back in charge and dad was fighting off an heir presumptuous.

  

Clifford in his heaven - salmon fishing on the Tay

Even at that early hour the dog walkers were out on Castle Hill, and a couple of runners came by as I was talking to the wife of an old friend of mine who lives on Castle Hill Side. I should say 'lived' because sadly, that very morning, he was being moved to a nearby Care Home suffering from severe dementia that his wife, or any untrained person for that matter, was able to cope with. Eight months older than me, he's always been an active outdoor person involved with hunting, shooting and fishing. I remember times when I'd return home to find a goose hanging in the porch, courtesy of Clifford. Or he'd open the boot of his car to reveal neat rows of Pink-footed and White-fronted geese and invite drinking mates at the old Castle Hill pub to 'take your pick'. Fond memories flowed through my mind as I jogged home. And some sad thoughts too...

   Each of those four dawn runs was a little over five miles, and very enjoyable they proved to be. Not so the fifth run after Church on Sunday. To finish the week I ran a six miler that included a so-called 'Magic mile' to assess my current state of fitness or, as it turned out, unfitness. I was so disillusioned with the readings on my watch I wouldn't repeat them to anyone, not even my wonderful partner. I tried another fast run and that was even worse. Shelley's lines came back to me yet again. Maybe it is time for that new pipe and slippers after all....