B2B Weekend 2, Day 2 — 20.72km, HR 142, the morning after 33km on Djouce.
Yesterday the legs remembered Saturday — thirty-three kilometres still sitting behind the knees, a debt not fully paid, and out again anyway, quieter this time, twenty kilometres instead of thirty, the body choosing its own rhythm without being asked twice.
The numbers don’t lie about the trying: week on week, thirty-nine became fifty-four, thirty-seven percent more ground covered, and the heart rate didn’t move an inch — same effort carrying more distance, which is the only progress that counts out here, where nobody’s watching but the heather.
From the ridge the forest drops away in one long green exhale toward the coast, fields stitched into patchwork, and beyond them the sea, grey and patient, going nowhere — much like this block, which isn’t going anywhere either, just further, weekend by weekend, until the legs stop asking questions.
Inspired by Seamus Heaney