The 1st 8 of the year.

And then it rained.

The sky opened and the deluge fell.

Today the river is overflowing, dark brown with the earth washed out of the valleys churning over the weir.

Someone’s garden chair sits half-submerged.

I run.

The air is mild, the sky sullen, not sure if it has finished.

The wind blows and the leaves fall.

I run.

“You can do 10”, she said.

I run a bit more.