There is a run that I enjoy
And though perhaps no more a boy
Or feeling any need to race
I can keep up a decent pace
Along the flat or coasting down
My village, though, is on the crown
Of good -sized hills so it’s all one
Whichever route it is I run.
The downhill section’s at the start;
The tougher bit’s the homeward part,
Where, seeking shadow from the trees,
My breath’s a laboured kind of wheeze
This morning, for variety,
I thought it would be fun to see
The run’s direction quite reversed.
Intriguing, certainly, at first
To coast along the gravel lane
That – coming up – is such a pain,
Then onto asphalt, down the dip
Still running at a decent clip.
The lowest point, and from this cup
I knew the whole way home was up.
A long way but I thought with hope
“It’s only just a gentle slope.”
A gentle incline, sure, but still
It doesn’t feel the same uphill.
