Observed on the Malverns

I'm Running Down the Hill/
Observed on the Malverns
by
Kim West

I'm running down the hill, with the world resonating inside me. I chime
with the delight of my pace and the sunny sky. It's cold. It's a biting
wind. The grassy turf moulds itself to my easy tread. He's running
beside me, my lycra legged husband. He's determined that we must
conquer every hill, but I'm just happy with this one. He's already
scanning our tracks up the next mount and I want to tumble into the
grass at the bottom and roll over and rest. He's always so determined.
I wasn't expecting to run this far ever. It's just a bit of fun for me,
but my companion has it all mapped out as a conquest. Life's like that
for him. Every day there's an Everest to scale; a rugged raft with
which to assault the steaming rapids.
I don't think it ever hit me till we retired early. We had successfully
inhabited our different yet compatible worlds until then, with routines
and schedules and good time-keeping our watch words. Now he still wants
to jump through hoops and perform to the world and to himself. The
trouble is that he also wants me jumping through those hoops. He hasn't
the joy in the moment that I have. He hasn't the aerial view of us
pounding the Malverns on the lovely day, as though we were 'Doing the
Himalayas' or crossing the Zambizi.
"Come on love. Keep up." My husband Bill calls, as he sets off up the
most rugged route to the top of the Beacon.
"Come on Diane."
"Do we have to?" I whinge, child-like and reluctant.
I can see us as the camera swings in for a close up on his rump. Thick
solid muscle under that Lycra. The music will undoubtedly have moved
from Vaughn William's 'Lark Ascending' back to something by Elgar. The
intimate enquiry of the lens picks up on his hint of midriff bulge, or
is that the consequence of tucking his tea shirt in? Actually he has
lost his waistline. I can vouch for that. And there I am spindly,
awkward in the turqouise Lycra leggings that he bought me for my
birthday and my 'I ran the World' T-shirt. I'm not graceful, just
loyal. I won't let him down, amongst these Sunday ramblers.
"That's it Diane. Well done love." My trainer credits me.
Did I invite him to 'train' me?