Peter was organising his last WOL race on Saturday and I was in hiding because I didn't want to get roped into helping. We were both signed up for the Borders XC race on Sunday but I didn't really want to go. For one I had a sore back - origin unknown. For two it looked like it was going to be sunny and a nice drawn out run around the shore seemed preferable to a long drive and some godawful 4 mile sprint. I've lost it, I know. I no longer know why people race. Isn't that just a way of spoiling a nice run? But I was also vulnerable to getting guilt tripped by Peter if he really wanted to go. If he really really wanted to go maybe I'd go, I didn't know. So I was quite pleased when he rolled in the door well after dark, breathing beer fumes and triumph, joyful that he'd got to the end of his stewardship of the Water of Leith Race with no road deaths, no drownings. It's a bit like the last day of being a sheriff, I guess. The odds aren't higher of getting shot, but they feel like they are.
Quite recently, when his health was a little bit dodgy, Peter wasn't for racing either. "What's the point of racing if you're just going to do a crap time and get beaten by everyone?" he queried...."Welcome to my world", I sympathised. No I know. It wasn't sympathy. Not at all. I was going to expand on my point but he'd lost interest. He'd gone off to another room to do something else.
Anyway, Sunday dawned nice and bright. I slept in until about 8.30 which is way, way late for me. We did try to get up and get moving. We'd long since given up on the thought of racing, but we did want to get down to Gullane and surrounds in the sun-light. However, it was just clouding over as we set off at the crack of....1.30pm. Buchanan berated himself and me for missing the sun. I told him to shut up and stop being so dramatic. A nice lady coming in the opposite direction looked at us and for a moment I thought I saw us as she must see us. One of these terrible shouty couples. Oh well...
The Falko's coffee kicked in and we cheered up. Peter wanted to run in woods so we went to Yellowcraigs first. We picked the pace up on the narrow muddy trails and we were soon pretty warm.
We got what little wind there was to the back of us heading west along the shore. The sky slowly turned yellow and everything else turned purple. It was a very nice sun-down.
By the time we got to Tesco's it was 5pm and it felt like the middle of the night. I was horrified to see it was really busy on a Sunday evening. I'd forgotten about the Christmas thing. People are getting food shopping in for Christmas - and they're in a hurry about it. Even though the damn shops don't even close at all anymore.
Please don't say it.
So today it was sunny again. I thought I'd get out a run early and catch it. But I got caught up in stuff and before I knew it it was after midday. I headed for the seat. The sun was already heading home for the day. I caught the tail end of it.
There were quite a few people in slippy shoes having a hard time coming down the frosty path. I was doing okay with my grippy hill shoes on but I was wary of careening tourists who might take me out with them if they fell. It was a still day. I ruined my average pace by tip-toeing down the grass and over to Whinny Hill. There was a lady at the top of the hill with a tiny dog. She smiled at me so I said "It's a lovely day isn't it?" and she said "Yes, it's beautiful." I thought how actually I felt like there was something missing. There's still a bit of colour around but everything looks drained. The cold makes me feel I need to keep moving. The long shadows make me feel tired. I don't really like it. I wondered if I'd said to her, "there's something missing isn't there?" she would have agreed with me. I doubt it.
So now it's a bit later than I meant it to be. It's nearly dark outside again. I probably need to scale back on the ambitious cleaning project I had in mind earlier. That's how it goes.
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