I miss UK. Miss the rain - and the cold. I miss wet fields to run in, and mud. And wind, and puddles, and the dark. I miss the bypass run, and the trucks whistling by, dangerously close. I miss seeing my breath lit up by my headtorch, and I miss running with my pals, with the runclub. I miss running with Rich, when we could be "together" all the way and never say a word. I miss Chris with his "up and at 'em" attitude, and Steve, who never talks either but looks at you like he knows better. I miss biking with Jason, and cursing him as he makes me ride faster than my legs want to go. I miss my boys, and the excess testosterone in the house.
I miss Carolyn's smile, James' astute observations, Zoe's even, level approach to everything, Sharon with her self-analysis and constant desire to do better, go faster. I even miss Tony and his ego-busting sideswipes about "that triathlon shit".
I miss the Manchester cross-country league, and huddling in a tent waiting for the race start. I miss Kinder Downfall, and the Ashton canal.
I miss my Lake District house, and the lung-searing, leg-wasting lactate-fest that is the hill to Alistair's farm, and the subsequent sprint to get ahead of his big, frightening white bull. I miss beer. God, I miss beer - proper, hoppy, beery beer. I miss Cafe Delice, and the people-watching there, and circuits at the leisure centre.
Autumn, eh? everything's gone all misty.
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