I blog in my head as I run.
The first few drops refresh my over heated body. Bono screams out it’s a beautiful day through my headphones. The wind picks up, invigorates. Four miles gone one to go and the storm promises to cool me down. A flash – 2…..3…..4….5 and then thunder. The drops get bigger heavier. Flash 2…3….then thunder.
I look over my shoulder. The black cloud seems to be following me. Ok the flash and thunder is uncomfortably close. Newspaper headlines swirl Batmanesque in and out of my mind “jogger struck by lightening….!” I speed up and the drops stop. I relax and the drops are back. I speed up and the drops stop. I relax and the drops are back... All the time the pyrotechnics above are enough for me to push myself to the limit. All the time the blackness is on my shoulder.
I get in. 45 mins a PB for the Isle of Dog’s! The storm in full swing I go into the garden hoping to see lighting strike Canary Wharf. As I stand in the gloom of the storm. The rain refreshing, rejuvenating, cleansing - I smile and the irrationality of my fear. Canary Wharf is a fair bit taller than me!!
Later I sit back – and think about how so often pastorally I feel like this. Not running away from pastoral headaches but keeping one step ahead of the storm … just. Pushing to keep ahead. Fearing the worst.
We’ve a few storm clouds on the horizon – I wonder what I’ve learned?