Whether it’s three miles a day, or six, or twenty-seven, a daily mileage target would be unrealistic for me. Some days I just don’t manage to get out at all. On the other hand, sometimes I manage a lunchtime wander along the canal from work and on occasion I’ve been out before work too.
I could almost certainly manage to average three miles a day, however.
On this occasion, I arrived home from work, after a fairly sunny day I think, and headed off to Jack Scout hoping for a spectacular sunset. What I got was cloud spreading in and something more muted, but much appreciated anyway.
Having watched the sun set, I decided to head around Jenny Brown’s Point, away from home, and therefore finished by stumbling home in almost total darkness, having neglected to take my headtorch.
I’m feeling the benefits of my regular excursions – whether they’re three miles, six, more or less. Some of those benefits are obvious and tangible – the improved fitness I felt when I was in Scotland at the start of the month, for example – and some are more elusive and difficult to quantify.
Bring me the sunset in a cup,
Reckon the morning’s flagons up
And say how many Dew,
Tell me how far the morning leaps
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the breadth of blue!
Write me how many notes there be
In the new Robin’s ecstasy
Among astonished boughs.
How many trips the Tortoise makes
How many cups the Bee partakes,
The Debauchee of Dews!
Also, who laid the Rainbow’s piers,
Also, who leads the docile spheres
By withes of supple blue?
Whose fingers string the stalactite
Who counts the wampum of the night
To see that none is due?
Who built this little Alban House
And shut the windows down so close
My spirit cannot see?
Who’ll let me out some gala day
With implements to fly away,
– Emily Dickinson.