Watch out, we’re doing sprints tonight!
Another day, another evening row, and last night’s was particularly beautiful. Before we’d even pushed off we’d seen a kingfisher dart past (not a lot of people know how small – and just how blue – they are). The cygnets were showing off their swimming and a family of tiny baby ducklings paddled manfully after their mother.
On the bank above us, lambs skittered and jumped, narrowly missing an unscheduled swim, and buzzards circled overhead, occasionally letting out their familiar screech.
None of this, needless to say, made the sprints any easier. The minutes on were still somehow much longer than the minutes off. I still felt wobbly afterwards (and nearly fainted in the chilled section of the supermarket). My blisters still stung in the shower and I still coughed up half my lungs, having just recovered from a cold.
I can’t deny, either, that not all of the wildlife was entirely welcome. The air was thick with flies that fluttered into our faces, down our tops and, if we weren’t careful, into our mouths – a hazard when you’re doing sprints.
But for all the pain and the exertion and the flies, I couldn’t help thinking how very lucky I was to be doing a sport that takes you out of doors into some of the most beautiful scenery in the country. I’ll try to remember that the next time we have an excruciating session on the ergs, and in the meantime I’ll just count my blessings.
