Zealots

9am, torrential rain, ankle deep puddles and Max the Dog on full splish, splash, splosh mode. Our second 25 minutes run (can't quite believe our wee legs have managed to get this far after 7 weeks of couchy to ouchy) and even longer walking back. Soaked to the skin. Trainers submerged. Cold and disgustingly squelchy with each step. And we loved it. Weirdos.

Okay, apart when Max got confused on route up front (only second time he's been running with me) and went down an embankment onto the road. That was a heartstopping moment (thank you kind car lady), neither doggo nor I will make that mistake again.

And yes, most folk probably walk faster than Tracey and I run, and the marvel that is Val usually does twice what we do. And even more yes is that sometimes it's hard and I swear a lot; very big loud, satisfying sweary swears, and sometimes my legs hurt, not just a little but a lot. But we feel bigtime airchie when we finish, a wee boost in unsettled times.

Second pic at the finish. Drookit.

Much later, Dave and I (re)watched Dr Zhivago this afternoon, neither of us quite know why.