After eight days, my first run. I concentrated on distance not speed, measuring physical condition against the familiar route to the fire station and back. The pace was slow, by halfway I'd managed to get a stitch in my right shoulder, turning for home I cursed myself for not staying in shape, having to do the hardest part all over again.
Things got easier on the way back but my legs hit a wall on the hill before the crematorium. I pushed through, out of breath, inhaling bus fumes and traffic noise. The first time back is always the hardest, I thought, flopping on to a chair in the middle of the garden.