Fur Coats: the way forward

Last night’s run home from work was only my second of the week. I am finding it surprisingly easy to cut back. My bed has been particularly comfortable, the evenings especially dark.

Usually when the clocks go back it spurs me on to run. I like being out at night – there are fewer people in my way and no-one can see how fast (slow) I’m running.  I can’t run in the park any more, but I feel safe running on the roads, despite the best efforts of the odd drunken idiot.

The only bad thing about running during the winter is the washing. With two runners in the house running 4-5 times a week each, our washbasket overfloweth. It’s not even cold yet so this can only get worse. By Christmas our bed will have disappeared under the piles of dirty or drying laundry and we will be forced to run in jeans and workshirts. There will be chafing.

Yesterday’s run was filthy. It was teeming down and I landed in at least two monster puddles crossing busy junctions. Back at the flat, a very wet cat was waiting on the doorstep to greet me. I peeled off my soaking kit in the hallway, attempted to find places to hang it all, emptied the washer of its current load and hung that up. The cat shook the water loose from his fur in seconds, licked off the remaining few drops in a trice and eyed me patronisingly. Where was his dinner?