Running Again??

After 133 days without a run, following the damage to my right sciatic nerve caused by an over-enthusiastic day of patio building in November, I finally ran again this morning. Not very far, just one mile. But I kept going and felt no worse for the outing, although it was not far enough or fast enough to release any endorphins. The visceral pleasure was mainly from retrieving my favourite Asics running shoes from the rumble layer of the wardrobe and knowing that I would be adding to the 22,873 miles that I had recorded since I started training for the Glasgow marathon in 1983.

The next step will be to make a new playlist to accompany my first proper run - 12 of my favourite running tunes for an attempt on 6 miles.

Kathmandu Images

Everest from Buddha Air

Someone asked me the other day about Kathmandu and it prompted me to dip into my photos from last November to try and capture that crazy, coveted city nestling beneath the Himalayas. It abounds in colour, costume, religion and oozes a generous hospitality. A globally aware place that has its roots in local culture and tradition. Sadus, who may have given up material wealth, but still charge the world's travellers for a photo shot; street markets that vibrate with colour and energy; urbanized grazing animals that shit randomly; buildings that no architect could ever design; and an eclectic mix of religious imagery that is too complex to be hostage to bigotry.

We flew around Everest at dawn with Buddha Air and then spent the rest of the day inhaling the atmosphere of this quite stupendous World Heritage Site.

Trampling on Kettle Chips

Campsies from Lime Craig

Well, I know that visitors are a bit bored with more scenes in the hills so I thought I would provide a soundtrack as well. It was another alpine-like morning and pre-porridge found me heading up the woods to the hills again. The hard night's frost had created sparkling hard and crispy snow and the still air created a sound chamber of acoustic excellence. Even the gentle gurgling of the not-quite frozen water in the burns had a joyous tingle. The forest canopy was a natural aviary for the birdsong which ranged from knock-knock-knocking of a woodpecker to the twitterings of dozens of small birds. I disturbed a jay and the flash of colour was accompanied by the whirring beat of its wings.

And providing the metronome for all of this was the rhythmic crunching of snow. It was like trampling on kettle chips. Listen below.