A different afternoon

It was 3.30 odd by my watch. No that is not wrong English. Before certain elements started passing off clumsy mispronounced English as ‘our kind of English’, that was the rule and with good reason.
An aging sun and its careful winter warmth lay littered on the meadow or what’s left of it after the barbaric rainfall that stood adamant for nearly two weeks. I marked my path for a couple of rounds and then after a slight hesitation I was off. I don’t really know why I hesitated. That precisely has been a critical issue for some time now. I’m not shy or reticent. However, I have had myself a few sour deals in the recent past. I believe this little snake slipped in then.
It doesn’t matter now. I’ve started running again; head firm and straight, muscles taut, veins throbbing and lungs snorting. Very few things can be more liberating.