Tonight in Warwick it is almost snowing.
It’s been raining all day, without stopping for lunch, and in the last hour the rain’s turned to sloppy white flakes not far from winter-wonderland if you really stretch the point. You don’t see snow in mid November in London, a scant few latitudinal rings south, and it’s marvellous to think there’s a chance of a white morning in my strange temporary midlands home.
Haven’t got much done in the academic department, but it’s been a great weekend. Some chance to relax after the last fortnight’s midterms and project presentations; nothing so urgent it can’t be left one more day. Went at a stack of paperwork and organised it into neat attackable plastic files, one a day for the next week.
I also got out. First run in months, through sheets of sleet and near-zero temperatures.
It was barely 5km out and back, but it was still a run, even if I took a halfway break to hack up goofballs after so many months out of a regular tri routine. It was surprisingly painful, the kind of rusty-lunged tang that feels like your teeth are bleeding into your stomach through your root canals, but it reminded me just how good it’ll be to be back in shape. I’m nowhere near peak capabilities, but I now know I’ll get there.
There’s something else going on, too. Something special. But that’s more than enough reasons for joy for one blog.