October 29, 2011 at 12:05 am | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

What have I been up to? It’s less of a story and more of a dot-to-dot:


B & B

– recognising I had a mild (and passing) case of attitude sickness on the climb up Kirkfell in the Wasdale show race, and still keeping on plodding onwards and upwards. I would say that I got a grip, but grip was the one thing I didn’t have as I slid grassily back down. Best race in the calendar? 2,400 feet up in a mile and a quarter. 2,400 feet back down the way we came. Two shaky legs that made me suffer and smile on the stairs for a week afterwards

– finding my way back to the running track. First of all, on the last day of summer, for what turned out to be the rainiest hour of the year. Three weeks later, in the first cold snap of this end of the year, with that feeling of blood in your chest. Keeping my promises up there so far too, back there last Tuesday, running the last few reps with the white lines being gently blurred by a rising-or-falling autumn mist that held around our knees

– playing “it” with two enfs as a warm-up at the start of a Park Run that we went to, being happy that as teenagers they still know how to play obliviously, and being cautiously optimistic that they won’t let growing-up get in the way of that

– pushing back the rising unease on the last sea-swim of the year, when I was more-than-usually alone (because the crowd actually had gone the wrong way this time), and the waves were too high for me to see safety. And finally happily unsteadily beaching in the quickening dusk, landing heavily like a flightless bird or a swimless fish. Oh, and stopping at the little beach amusement arcade when running back afterwards, confident that a day when I was so gifted by my undrowning, was the day when the gods of the cuddly-toy-grabber would smile on me and tighten their always-unreliable grip. (They didn’t, of course)

– a night on the moors with Bambi & Becki, setting the course for Dartmoor Runners under both ends of a rainbow, listening to the downpour in the night, and collecting the controls in the sun next day

– just avoiding a James Herriot soggy-rolled-up-sleeve moment, when I nearly ran into the back of a cow in the fields by the river tonight. Time to play with headtorches again. Winter drawers on, as the BBC never said.

What do we get when we join the dots? I’m hoping it’s a good base for a quickish (for me) 10k on the road (eek) in early January. We’ll see what added colouring-in I can do between now and then, won’t we?

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