The sun was out. There wasn't much wind. I thought I'd make up for the fact I'd ducked out of going to the Pentlands by doing a bit of steepness up at Arthur's Seat. The minute I started up the back of the crags I was glad I hadn't gone near the Pentlands. I don't know why but my uphilling muscles were shot. I can't think what I've been doing with them to make this so, but so it was. Maybe it's the sudden, radical weight gain of Christmas. I struggled not to let this and the fact there were too many people around put me in a filthy mood. It is Christmas after all. Climbing up the big steps up the front of Arthur's Seat was more fun because there was almost nobody around. Then a family appeared, the spirit of Christmas. There was a woman, forging ahead and complaining about something, a man, more passive and silent, and some poor forsaken child called Henry who was struggling up behind them, not enjoying himself. "Come on Henry!" commanded his mother, out ahead, elbows out. Jesus.
Instead of going up the gradual path I diverted to avoid this tight little family group, which involved some slightly hairy scrambling up greasy, polished rock. The burst of adrenaline this produced was just what I needed to get me up to the top of the seat on tired legs.
The top of the seat was bristling with people. I knew it would be. The rock is incredibly polished up there with the constant through traffic.
I headed down to whinny hill which just had the odd dog-walker. That and an all female family who looked at me and said "Well done" and started clapping. I looked at them narrowly to see if this was sarcasm - and then checked to see if I was missing a limb or if there was some other reason for this rather effusive congratulations. There's nowt as queer as folk.
Anyway. My legs were dragging by now. Thank God it's work tomorrow and I don't have to run. That was hellish. Nice day though.
No comments:
Post a Comment