WEEK THREE DAY FOUR

I am writing a daily blog (Monday to Friday) on preparing spiritually and physically

to lead a Pilgrimage of 100 miles in September.

for details of the Pilgrimage, click on the dropdown Cotwold Pilgrimage bar at the top of this page

We’ll just walk nine, he promised. If it rains we’ll stop.

But it’ s a Bank Holiday, I protested. A day to stop, relax, watch the Queen.

Later, he said. There’s not much happening right now. Come with me and enjoy some fresh air and exercise.

Grudgingly I laid my book aside and found garments suitable for a wet hilly golf course. Just nine holes, I told myself. And I’ll look for lost golf balls in the rough and see if I can beat my record.

He hit the ball long and sweet. I found two golf balls. One hole down, eight to go.

Long steep hill down to the next hole; even steeper climb up to the third. I’ve done it so often with him that I know what lies ahead. Cotswold hills.

Four more balls found in the rough.

Long third hole and round the corner to the fourth. The clouds parted briefly. Fifth, sixth …. Nearly back.

Long steep drop from the tee to the eighth hole. I always forget just how pretty this is. How much I love the peace and the beauty and the trees and the stream flowing through.

We cross the tiny Giverny-like bridge. I’ve found 7 balls already.

Long haul up to the nineth – really steep. And I realize I am going up at some speed and only a little out-of-breathness.

All those London Tube escalators, up and down, are beginning to have an effect. Three weeks into this preparation and I can FEEL a difference.

Second nine he asks. Look, the sun is coming out.

Late afternoon shadows and dappled sunlight.

Another round of eight holes; more ups and downs. More beauty. More time together. How can I resist?

But I do. Time for a cup of tea, I wail.

His arm around me, urging me on. You’ll be glad you did it, later.

He knows me well.

And I am. The pedometer looks most encouraging. We skip the tea and go straight to something stronger.

And I acknowledge the help of another urging me on, doing it together.

Two can put ten thousand to flight.

Ten thousand is my minimum daily step count. A golf course which is long and spread out and hilly easily accomplishes much more than that.

For once, I am grateful for a golfing husband. And for his persistence and determination.

And today – today I shall run and up down those escalators on the way to and from the grandchildren and pretend they are Cotswold hills on a beautiful golf course.

And put ten thousand to flight on my pedometer.