I’ve finally decided to tackle the ‘scenic’ route around the Cotswolds, which I’m convinced is more of a challenge for my hamstrings than a relaxing weekend stroll. It started with as much optimism as I could muster before the clouds rolled in and turned into a proper, genuine British adventure—which is usually just code for ‘you will get wet and slightly miserable.’
For those of you who follow my online journey, you know that my transition from ‘casual jogger’ to ‘serious contender’ in thes running world is mostly a myth. I’m still just trying to figure out out why some people enjoy staring at their feet and inhaling heavy pollen while they run on grass. But this morning, I actually tried it. I hit the lanes, and let me tell you, the mud is real. It’s not just a bit of dirt; it’s that thick, cloying muck that sticks to your shoes like a magnet.
The Two-Wheeled Alternative
I spent some time chatting with a local cyclist who was wearing neon yellow, and I’m pretty sure they were judging me for my desperate struggle to navigate the puddles. They had their bike and, honestly, just looked quite content in their high-vis gear. There is something about the momentum of cycling out there seems more efficient than pushing through heavy mud with your own two legs alone. Maybe next time I’m taking a slightly less ambitious cycle; perhaps it wouldn’t have been aseriffic
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