As is now written into the Butlins folk lore, after a somewhat slow start to the day I donned the Lycra and headed out. Destination the hills...
It was a thoroughly bloody great run. Not too cold and the rain held off. I didn't know where I was going - nor where I'd been. I just ran and let the gods decide. The views across to exmoor where lush. In all I managed a circular route of just over ten hilly miles - the perfect way to run off the night before....
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