Titale says it all really. Determined not to get cabin fever and fat by being cooped up in bad weather like a frustrated walrus, I crawled out from under the duvet from where I had spent most of the day, put on my running shoes and hit the paths.
A lot of the snow had thawed overnight, but it was colder out and the snow left was hardened uneven slush. I avoided it where I could, pretending to be an antarctic explorer skirting crevasses, but when I got to the cycle path by London Road lake it was crusted.
So, no choice but to carry on, and you know, it was ok. I didn't break my neck, I didn't smash my elbow again. I kept going on the ice, uneven, crunchy, and though I didn't really see anything of any great interest whatsoever, this brave soul, this mighty warrior, felt very proud of himself when he got back in.
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