Got up this morning and thought the blinds were still drawn. Discovered they were not. On my window, externally, a fine layer of dust covered the pane – the product of three days’ worth of the most WRETCHED weather I could possibly envision … well, apart from a new ice age, that is. For me, being an avid runner (read: endorphine junkie), the weather is deemed WRETCHED when I cannot run in it. Sunday was passable – the way out was OK, the way back was a put-your-head-down-and-persevere kind of struggle. Monday I didn’t jog because every other day is my day off – but if it hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have. On account of the storm. Yesterday … well, let’s just say the Icelandic highlands experienced the worst erosion in a decade. The whole country is blowing out to sea – except part of it is sticking to my window. Needless to say, I stayed inside with a bad case of cabin fever compounded by Terrible Endorphine Withdrawal Syndrome.
Today, well – today they said it was going to stop. Indeed, by squinting my eyes and going really close to the window this morning I could see that the trees outside were not moving. ‘A spot of breakfast’, thought I, ‘and then I’ll run along’. I settled on a leisurely bowl of musli, not suspecting that when I had finished the blowing would have started all over again. By the time I came out, breathless and desperate for my fix, waves were already crashing over my favoured seaside path. They say sea baths are good for you. They say the same thing about running. Today I scored a double whammy.
