A fine day, with Margaret availing herself of her exercise day by taking a promenade to South Park, where she encountered (but did not come within safe distance of) a dear friend. I continued working on my long-reading. [Quorn] Pepper steak and veg for dinner, and a couple of episodes of The Marvellous Mrs. Maisel.
I’m realising these days how much my ‘free’ days used to be defined by going: perhaps to Rick’s Cafe, perhaps to the Bodleian, but almost always by availing myself of the absence of timetabled constraints by meandering shorter or longer distances. I don’t have any great complaint about spending time at home, on my own; I do, however miss deeply the chance to make a spontaneous hop down to look at pens at Antiques on High, or dropping in at the Gloucester Green Market. Being at home doesn’t bother me — it’s having to be at home.
This morning I interrupted my morning run halfway for a minute or so, which enabled me to catch my breath and resume better-rested but still limber. I was amazed at the difference it made in time — 1°, bitter cold, but my time was 9:31. I’m not counting that as a personal best, since I did get the benefit of the mid-mile break, but it’s still startlingly rapid for me.