The Prisoner

Something strange has happened of late.  The pain experienced from running/jogging is no longer directy proportional to the distance run. Instead it rises exponentially over a distance of meters instead of miles: I can go from from pain-free to pained and apathetic in a little over four seconds, - an acceleration rate that would be the envy of Fiesta XR2i drivers everywhere.

I am secretly pleased to be without a working pedometer. I know that, despite the heat, the Sardinian scenery should inspire me to acheive distances further and faster.  I am, however, blissfully unaware of the true extent of the shorter and slower chuggs beside quiet beaches.

My latest jogs of (probably only) three or four kilometers were alongside the beaches of Santa Maria Navaresse; a pleasing, but neither-here-nor-there town midway along the Sardinian East Coast.  Although charming, the town seemed to be defined by roads up (to the Gennargentu) and boats out (along the Ogliastra Coast). Perhaps it is only fair, therefore, that-by foot, at least- I never broke it's pleasant confines.