If I chance upon an article about running, it is nearly always accompanied by a setup photograph of 2 or 3 happy, smiling runners effortlessly jogging down a leafy lane. Well, sometimes a leafy lane, but you get the picture. The point is, is that they convey a state of ecstasy that must be linked to running itself.
However, after my 22 mile epic yesterday, I can assure you that no happy smiling face could be seen until I was sat in my car driving home and even then it was tinged with pain as my muscles started the slow painful recovery. It was never intended to be 22 miles, but 2 errant turns of direction extended the planned 15 to 22 miles. The good thing is that I don't feel half as bad as expected to today, so that's a good thing.
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