Seven In A Row

About four years ago (?), I began skipping rope in the mornings. At first, I just went through the motions — simply turning the rope over my head and jumping once or twice exhausted me. I skipped roped a few times a week, and gradually got to the point of doing a fair amount of rope-skipping most mornings.
After a couple of years, I decided I would try to run a mile. The first results were unimpressive, to say the least, unless you’re impressed by a sexagenarian staggering and wheezing and standing stock-still, leaning on his knees. I ran (and walked, and stopped) once a week, on Sundays, because there was more time before Morning Prayer at 8:30. After several months, I started running on Wednesday mornings as well (Morning Prayer at 8:00). I kept up with a twice-a-week regimen for another couple of years.
About a month or so ago, on a whim, I began running more often. My plan was to make ‘running’ the default, but to allow days off when I wanted a lie-in. Morning Prayer at 7:30? Pfaugh! No problem.
Today marks the first time ever I’ve run every day of a week. I won’t be able to keep it up (some days will be rubbish weather, and Margaret and I will be off to make a visit to Wells), but I expect that my current pattern of ‘run every day unless there’s a compelling reason not to’ will be my ordinary plan. I still hate running, but maybe not as intensely as I used to.
It was bitter cold this morning, felt colder than several recent days of 2° weather even without a breeze, but there I went. 10:18.

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