The back roads through Harlesden to Sheen, back via Putney Bridge sunset and Willesden Junction .. nice Sunday outing, while fighting my own ankle, and a rough viral affliction. Not at all straightforward, what is happening the next fortnight, must say.

This is one of my old running tracks up north. It's called The Monks' Trod (that's the North Sea in the background), part of a network that leads to Whitby Abbey. Solid sandstone slabs zap across the Yorkshire moors for miles. Been there for ever. Uneven? Errr .. yes. But I've run it in snow/ice many times, with no danger. The monks knew what they were doing.  I don't think they were joggers, tho. The trod can take you to pretty, warm villages, or to 20 miles and more on the high plateau with no people at all. I've spent whole days running up there.  In London, like everyone, I'm stuck for equivalents.

So I go to Richmond Park, which has bronze age burial mounds, fresh air and great views, just like the Yorkshire moors but warmer. Used to live near the Park and ran it daily back then. Now it's the opposite corner of town. This helps me combine two pleasures: walking long distances in the city, and running the park-that's-like-the-countryside.  As a student in Norwich, before I ever went to London, I read about Ezra Pound and Ralph Vaughan Williams, both (not together) covering huge distances on foot, in and around the city. RVW would sometimes walk home to Dorking from the Royal Albert Hall. Pound pounded the pavements for hours. He ended up on the far right, went crazy and was imprisoned. Ralph voted Labour, became an aged institution and had more sex than we ever thought likely.

So whenever I'm in London, I walk as much as poss. Today did about 20-odd-k quick walk through town, then about the same distance running the park. The Monks' Trod can feature adders, for the unwary jogger. But Richmond Park is unthreatening, beyond the occasional kamikaze cyclist. It's a kingdom of trees, patrolled by deer, and it's not quite tamed. Today I ran right through a small group of antlerheads in long grass, both of us too surprised to react. That was great. The left leg was not at all great, but again it feels better, now, and I could have run further, in theory. So I'll see if the leg needs an emotional rescue, tomorrow.

Running tip #umpteen: don't get obsessive about it, or anything else. Up there is my troublesome tendon today. Hurts more now when running, but less when not.  Might keep working, might not.  Only running will tell, the physio goes on. But fortunately I'm not an addictive chap, and amid the poignancy, perspective wins. Picked up on Teenage Riot by Sonic Youth again Sat. morning, the slow beginning that feels like life just began. It makes most things seem possible (however unlikely). Also tried Nothing's Impossible by Depeche Mode, an old favourite. But my goodness it's one hell of a miserable-sounding ode to potential.

Yesterday the left Achilles got a big workout around London. But the meaningful aspect was seeing Regent's Park, on a grey rainy aft. The wild and deserted sections to the west. The Canada geese who stare you down when you run at them and don't move. The million low white flowers near the lake. All the Muslim ladies exercising quietly in black, near the big mosque.

As a runner now, since last living in this city in '05/6, there's even more dodging of phone-people-in-a-trance, than there is avoiding confident geese and random concrete bollards. After a time away from London, this feels a large change on the street. It sounds old-fogeyish to say so, but it's not. I was a really early adopter of smartphones, they are great, totally unmissable for communications. The addiction feels no better than any other tho, do you think?  It feels .. a little bit phone-y. And the battery life still sucks :-)

Details .. from Hendon to Golders Green yesterday, narrowly escaping a random rage attack (seriously, folks) from an unaccountably shouting loony near the North Circular.  Up to the Hampstead Heath extension, the ponds and the main Heath, fast progress on soft ground. Belsize, Primrose Hill, Regent's Park for circuits, back more-or-less the same way. Forced the pace v. hard up Primrose. Basic fitness, left leg, CV,  asking huge, new questions all the time. I don't know if I can answer them all by July 13th, after such a layoff. But answer them I will, and the walk/run combo feels good again. Come on, Richmond Park.

Yesterday's rain and thoughts drove me to Greenwich on a Sat., reminders of last year with the tall ships and cable cars. Walking from the peninsula, the river looked massively wide and majestic. Ran Greenwich Park a few times, first jog there in eight years. Twenty years since  I last did four circuits. Low sun, shafting light onto millions of wet oak leaves, and onto the headily-scented flower-laden shrubs. Nature was overwhelming.

My left leg/heel hurt sharply, all through the slow jog, sometimes as though the injury was new. But this morning, it felt stronger for the experience. So for now, pressing on.

Eventually, I was staring up at the cliffs, thinking it was maybe impossible. Last night was the first time I've pushed running in a fortnight. Today's the last chance for the left leg, before I look hard and honest at the real prospects for the July run. An odd sentence for me to read, after the year so far. It's been an odd time, hit very hard by the tendonitis, walking every day with the odd jog. While also caught up in the adventure (and dramatic end) of the ocean rowing endeavours of two friends, and engaging with their team across England and Wales. This led to some helpful, unanticipated exercise up-and-down the said cliffs, and a bit of film and photography. But (briefly) it's been life-as-extreme-challenge-soap-opera: injury, frustration, inspiration, confusion, potential heartbreak and curtailment.

Which is where determination and realism kick in. Should I run this race, and risk permanent injury? Or enrol for the next one? What the hell does 'permanent' mean anyway, when I'm this far into life's journey etc? Who do you let down, or not, beyond yourself?

Last night was actually quite a swift run. It hurt a good deal, oh yes, but hurts less this morning. Contrast that with two weeks back, when two surgical appliances were needed, to maintain the illusion of normality. Walking for the first hour of the day was not really on. The layoff has been high-risk on a tight schedule, backed up with simple physio. I've not been to the gym. Despite all my prior analysis on this blog, there seems no doubt now that I induced the tendonitis myself by running fast uphill on the treadmill, for long periods. So, however much I love it,  I must abandon the machine training now, and just get back to my old regimes. Which are pretty simple: run on mixed, irregular ground, when you can. Knees/hips are fine, so no need to retire just yet. Injury stuff, worn-out body parts are so boring, but it becomes the story.

It's a breezy, bright, showery Saturday, ideal for the park test. If I get around twice, you'll be the first to know, and game-on for the torn and frayed tendon.