Trimming the Hedge

Sitting with my feet up, right heel slightly sore, after a good run today.  I estimate, without checking either of my two GPS exercise logs or my composite exercise spreadsheet, that I ran 35 km this week, 3 days in Washington DC plus today.  In some months I only run 35 km total so I can understand a little soreness.  

I trimmed the hedge at the front of 20 Eden this morning.  Voluntarily, albeit stimulated by Mary Lou's comment that I spend too much time at the computer.  The hedge had grown to a ragged and rambunctious state, infringing seriously on the pavement, so I cut it back severely.  Same strategy I apply to haircuts.  

I thought of my dad, who, around this same time of year (often on the US Memorial Day, last Monday in May) would trim, also by hand, the shrubs in front of our house in Illinois.  I would help by raking and picking up the cuttings - those bushes had thorns!  In my earliest memories the cuttings would go into a wood-slat basket with wire handles.

Strictly speaking, I did not volunteer my help.  I merely understood, without an explicit request (although perhaps with a nudge from my mother to put down my book, get out, and help Dad) that he expected my participation in the day's tasks.  Just as I understood the expectation that I would mow the lawns of our house and those of the elderly neighbors (the latter, at least, for compensation) each Saturday.  In spring, during the school term, I would often also have a track meet (athletics competition, in the UK) on Saturday, in the afternoon, or I would anticipate, even then, a long or hard run for training or pleasure.  I remember very clearly thinking that 3 hours in the warm sun pushing a mower through thick grass did not represent a very restful preparation for a running race.  True, no doubt, but in those days I also knew less about hydration and pre-race nutrition.  Today, working for a couple hours in the sun, I thought both about Dad and about the day's run.  After the trimming I had sports drink, an energy bar, and a nap.  

I did enjoy my run, again down the Cam on this side, back on the other.  I pushed for 3 km on this side, and again for 3 km on the return.  Not very fast, but faster than last week and better than just a passive old-guy run.  I feel that I gradually regain a natural stride; earlier in the year I felt that I corrected for pain or stiffness.  I try to remember, as I get tired and my stride shortens, to increase speed by relaxing rather than tightening.  I recall terms I hear most often: rounded, balanced, collected, supple, forward.  Applied to Tetley, not to me.  Perhaps I should consider half halts.  

Nice temperature for the run.  I don't look forward to a summer of 30C as predicted.  Now we plan to get on our bikes and pedal to a pub over in Coton, a nice ride to the other side (western edge) of Cambridge.