A glorious early morning walk in Devon

As per my previous post, I am trying to squeeze a 20-30min walk into my daily routine. To have any chance of making it a part of my schedule past February I need to find that window in my day where it’s do-able, not a chore. I know that once I’m home after a day at work there is no chance of extracting me from the sofa, so evenings are out (for the winter at least), so I’ve plumped for first thing. Between dropping Country Bebe off at nursery and starting work I have a magic 45 minute window. Yesterday I spent it here:

There was a really hard frost here over night but by 8.30am the low winter sun was beginning to thaw it. Those woods in the distance are the ones I wrote about back in the autumn. They hold my favourite ‘daddy memory’ of long Sunday walks together, so will forever be a very special place for me.

I’m all about integrated fitness – I find it truly bizarre that I used to get the bus everywhere in London, then pay a fortune to spend an hour in a sweaty gym, fighting it out for the last treadmill. Half an hour wading through the mud up this hill was the best leg/glute workout I’ve had in quite a while.

You don’t get this view from the rowing machine either:

Across the frosty fields down to the sea. With only the honk of the odd pheasant for company:

Then there was just enough time for a stop off at the welly wash:

Before heading home for a BUCKET of porridge, and settling down at my desk for 9am. *That* is why we moved to the sticks.