Miracles

To my great shame, I'd not yet made it across the valley to see this year's bluebells in Middleton Woods. I took a trip this morning to run through the paths in some unexpected sunshine. As the skies cleared a planned shortish run (on very tired legs) turned into a longish run. Literally before I realised what was happening, I was on a new path I'd never found before and was on top of Beamsley Beacon. I took a descent line down to Nesfield, a route I'd not taken in very many years. It was just under 11 miles in the end. I still think of it as a kind of minor miracle that I'm able to do that distance now without much thought. I couldn't five years ago.

Perhaps it was a subconscious response to the Leeds game against Arsenal. It was already all over by the time I got back ... although, even with ten men, the tease was that they almost salvaged a point at the death, against any kind of reasonable odds. The torture they put their supporters through. They now need a miracle of their own.