My right knee aches a bit, has been aching all week. Perhaps I should take a longer break. But a break would interrupt the flywheel of habit, which has only just begun spinning slowly. I want to keep that momentum.

It’s a bit foggy in Royston. I’m worried about the dual carriageway from AWM. It will be less busy if I get that done first. But the Baldock train comes first, so that settles it.

Baldock’s church spire is a highlight in the scenery around the line to London. A short stretch by a road then through a field to an overpass. There should be one of these for AWM too.

Time passes faster on a new route. The sun is against me, the tarmac is smooth in the middle of the road like obsidian and reflects the sun. There’s a hedge by the side of the road, and the sun is exactly at its edge so that I am bobbing in and out of its shade.

There was another feature on running in the FT. There’s one almost every week now. The “How To Spend It” supplement featured adventure running to Madeira’s peak, the Pico Ruivo. If Murakami is the classical “running writer,” then “running journalist” Fergus Scholes, Instagram and all, reflects a new emphasis. A bit like in the wine-world where William Kelley is downstream in time and style from Robert Parker. Variations on a theme from a certain viewpoint.

I just run. I run in a void. Or maybe I should put it the other way: I run in order to acquire a void. But as you might expect, an occasional thought will slip into this void. People’s minds can’t be a complete blank. Human beings’ emotions are not strong or consistent enough to sustain a vacuum.

Haruki Murakami

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10k feels normal now. Two runners pass going the other way at Sandon. I prefer running alone. I’ve underestimated the total distance. A green bridlepath is refreshing, but then it’s back to the road. It’s downhill, but begins to feel like a chore. This is the time to practice patience. The dual carriageway looms ahead. It is busy. I avoid part of it by running through a field, but then I have to cross it and run on the edge with cars coming up behind me. It’s a relief to turn off for the final stretch to the station. A three minute wait for an empty Class 700 and then I’m back.