It seems counterintuitive that after a few days off from running or swimming instead of feeling refreshed and ready to go I am dragging myself around my run feeling like a sack of potatoes. And honestly the reason I am walking through the meadow is not that I want to keel over but that I am finding little button field mushrooms and collecting some in a bag.
At the river I am coming to terms with the demise of summer. Everything is screaming 'AUTUMN', from the mat of leaves caught in a still patch of river under the bank to the malaise in the air.
My swim is interrupted first by a drink can which I fish off the bottom and take back to my clothes and then by a tennis ball which I pull out of the reeds and set free in the current to be scooped up on my return.
I am keeping a lookout for the flash of blue that would be the kingfisher scooting by and then quite unusually spot one perched on a stone at the water's edge. I am able to paddle to within about 10 feet before it's off, perching, flying on, perching again and then off through the trees upstream. Well that's that except that it's not gone at all but is perched on a branch and I swim on until I am only a few feet from it, both of us quite oblivious until it sets off with a sharp chirping cry.
Time to swim back downstream, not forgetting that tennis ball.
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