Despite looking forward to having a rest after running every day in June to satisfy the Juneathon secret police and save myself from prosecution, I still went for a run on July 1st. The chip they inserted in my brain remained switched to “RUN” and I couldn’t resist it. I ran with Lorna and we first motored to the big city called Cambridge and moored up about a kilometre from the centre. Alighting gracefully from the vehicle, we activated the Garmin and set off like startled gazelles. When Lorna actually leaped over the roof of a parked car, I thought we needed to calm down and try not to attract attention to ourselves. The plan was to run through the crowded streets of Cambridge and along the river and commons on the other side of town.
This was particularly enjoyable. You don’t run along congested pavements as if you are being chased by a knife wielding maniac. You weave in and out with a natural rhythm according to the gaps that appear. Sometimes you have to pause and at all times you have to be aware that the common pedestrian or tourist is moving slowly and is easily spooked by exotic, godlike running machines suddenly appearing from behind them. You have a responsibility to humanity at large, a duty of care to the non running public who still insist on walking (or dawdling) everywhere. We felt empowered and vital.
We ran 6.9 miles in total, not swiftly and sometimes walking and taking quick photos. A great run. We’ll do a different route next time and probably explore Cambridge’s bohemian area centring on Mill Road, which is relatively ethnically and culturally diverse (by Cambridge standards). Bring it on, I think, is the appropriate colloquial phrase.