Not Running

It is Sunday afternoon and I am lying in the new hammock, next to our quiet canal. I can feel the warm sunlight on my skin; there is still a whiff of charcoal and grilled meat in the air. The only sensation close to discomfort is from Philip’s long lockdown hair rubbing on my bare…

What is your measure of success?

What do runners talk about when running? Occasionally about how much better they could be “if only…” but are such thoughts helpful? Are they even valid?

Or are they missing something?