My fingers rest in the metal grooves of the trig point, palm upon the cool concrete, my heart hammers a staccato rhythm in my chest as I watch the town far below awaken.
I do not want to set the alarm, I do not want to get up early. I do not want to run in the dark anymore.
I’m devoid of emotion, cold, numb, the landscape wraps around me and clouds gather on the horizon.
The night before I’m sat in Pizza Hut wondering if eating a ‘blazin-inferno’ pizza is really the best way of preparing for a 10k race.
Dawn has broken, the first rays of light streak through the upper atmosphere, legs are stinging, back aching, breathing is heavy, laboured and I’m grinning like a loon.
Don’t want to run. Stumbling around in the dark because I’ve lost my fleece, everything is blurry in the low glow coming from the hall, I’ll have to run without it.
6am the bed is a warm cocoon, its dark and I know it is going to be cold outside, the house is quiet and I don’t want the alarm to go off.
When all the racers are in and the finish line falls silent after the echoes of excited runners, friends and family fade away . . .what then?