|The canal a day later, |
after the storm had passed
Since my marathon was less than a month away I very reluctantly decided to go for a run. Reluctantly because it was storming outside, and not showing any signs of letting up. And not some wimpy California storm, like a real "oh yes now I understand why this place is so green and they drink a lot of hot tea" English storm. I asked the desk clerk if she could recommend a place to run and she pointed me to a path along a canal less than a block away.
|Those Brits sure do have nice manners|
The freezing rain pelted me from every direction, I had a terrible cold and had to stop more than once to cough up what felt like one if not both of my lungs, and not long into the run I could no longer feel my fingers. But it was one of the best runs I've ever had. The few brave souls that I encountered and the dogs they were walking looked at me like I was crazy. And of course I was, but the pain and agony was worth every crazy mile.
|Narrowboat tied up to someone's backyard.|