Yesterday I arrived in Armpit after a five hour train journey in the company of the Small Boy, dropped my bags and immediately went out for a run. I have been planning this for some time; in fact it’s my third visit to Armpit since I started running, but the first time I have brought my running shoes and not been suffering either illness or injury.
99% of you have no idea where I’m talking about, but I’ll tell you anyway. I set off from mum’s cottage towards the sea, then ran north along the prom all the way past the pub to the end that we used to visit when we first lived here. From there inland towards Cliff Road and uphill to the haunted house we lived in after the divorce. It’s still called Rhiannon. Crossed the road to the bus station, then ran through a back lane and up the road we first lived on. Continued up that way past my first boyfriend’s house, through the estate past the school, and round the corner to take me past mum’s first post-divorce house. Down the hill from there towards the house dad lived in with the stepmonster, round the back alongside the playground and behind the pubs, and then past mum’s house-before-this. Tried to get from there on to the disused railway line but the path was closed so headed back through the houses towards the police station, and took a little detour past the converted station cottages where granny lived for a few years before she died. Out of that road, past the amusements, and back to the prom. Turned inland towards mum’s and nearly back to her cottage made a precise 4 miles at a significantly faster pace than I could normally run for that distance. Was it the sea air, do you think, or the catharsis?
Also, and more impressively, Tom ran The Marathon.
