On 27th December I was awake in the early hours
of the morning, dreading that the snow would have gone by the time I got up. I looked out of the bedroom window to check
but it was still falling so I went back to sleep to see what santa bought me as
a late Christmas present by the time I woke up.
It was a beautiful snowy day and I ate my breakfast full of
the anticipation of what was to come but… ski-ing or running???
I stuck my nose out of the front door. The cover wasn't bad but not brilliant
either. I ran up to the loft and checked
the view out across the hillside where tufts of grass were protruding from the
slopes in places. I decided it wasn't
good enough for skis and went off for a run instead.
After 10 minutes I was crossing sledger’s park, children
already starting to amass, giggling in the sunshine. I toyed with the idea of heading straight home
for skis but instead decided to tire myself out on a short run before resorting
to skis, hoping that I wouldn't do what I did 2 years ago and injure myself
ski-ing, screwing my early-year run season. I phoned Andrew from the bottom of the Rivelin Valley
When I got in I changed clothes briefly then skinned up the
skis and set about walking to the park. It was chossy, slow and rubbish but it didn’t
matter – we were skiing in the UK .
Sledging on planks was what it was
really but we enjoyed ourselves nevertheless and headed home tired and happy
afterwards.
On Sunday, I really was tired from the exertion so decided
to have one weekend off cyclo-cross by way of a “rest-week” – keeping up the
heavy training for a bit but laying off the hard racing with a view to another
short recovery before Derby and the National champs polish off the season. Instead we had a walk into town to try out some sofas that we might want to sit on. It's a hard life.
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