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A fine morning dawned, cold, but sunny, ideal for running. I got dropped off at West Newton with the intention of following where my feet lead me, eventually returning to Wooler. An easy jog to begin along the track past The Straw, where the dogs gave their usually serenade of wild barking. Initial route choice was determined largely by avoidance of frisky looking cattle, probably quite benign, but as we all know more injuries occur from encounters with cows than with sharks; especially amongst fell runners.
As I approached the two stones on the shoulder of White Hill I saw the outline of a familiar figure, it was indeed Old Geordie Rumfella of the College Valley. He shook his head gently as I ran up to him, perhaps he seemed a little thinner than earlier in the year, but there was still that vital spark in his eyes that softened the lines on his face. "First frost" I called out by way of greeting. " Aye, Bonnie Lass" he assented " Its a lazy wind too, it'll nowt go round you, but straight thro' ". We both adjusted our headgear, mine a dove grey, fleece beanie with pale pink trim, his a woollen cap of indeterminate colour that had possibly once been green. We stood and gazed across at the mass of cloud on Cheviot, the sun pouring over Newton Tors warming us a little. I sneezed. Old Geordie rummaged in his surprising and capacious pocket and produced a hankerchief. As he untangled it from a piece of baler twine, two acorns on a twig and a feather, I noticed it was a large, originally white square of cotton with a letter G embroidered in navy on one corner. I had a sudden memory of my grandfather offering me the comfort of a similiar hankerchief many years ago.
I patted my nose with the proferred hankerchief. " Keep it lassie, keep it" said Old Geordie with a smile. "I'll bring it back" I promised. I trotted off down the hill towards Hethpool, turning once to wave the pale flag of the cloth in farewell. Then I carefully stowed it in my bumbag for the run home. I couldn't tell him I have no need of a hankerchief when running. I have now perfected the art of using a sleeve, a glove and the "one finger on one nostril, blast it out of the other" technique.
The sun continued to shine as I paced my way home to launder and iron Geordie's hankie.
Just returned from a delightful if damp week in the Trossachs. I waited patiently for a clear day for a long run in the hills, finally deciding just to go for it despite low cloud. I got dropped off at Ledard Farm by Loch Ard whilst the boys continued to play golf at Aberfoyle. The initial ascent to Ben Venue was muddy but scenic, the path wending upwards past waterfalls through golden forest. I was surprised to see two runners slowly descending and stopped for a chat. One of the lads had an impressive amount of blood spurting out of a hole in his knee, I at once adopted Ray Mears mode and offered to find sphagnum moss to staunch the flow. This was declined as was the offer of a pain killing poultice made from stag droppings and a rare hallucinogenic lichen known only to myself, Ray and a few old hippies.The injured runner claimed he would be alright and seek conventional medical help later. " Ah yes" we agreed "Hard men can hop through the pain"
Onwards and upwards with the chance of views fast disappearing as the mist rolled in. I chanced upon a couple of feral goats moodily gazing down at Loch Katrine, not at all disturbed by my presence. The summit of Ben Venue was veiled in thick clag, only able to tell I had reached the top by the absence of anything higher to climb. I then descended to the col and left the path to follow an old fence line to Creag a Bhealaich before picking up another fence along the ridge of Beinn an Fhohharadh. Although an invaluable handrail I had forgotten that these old fences go straight through lochans and bogs, so it was a tough battle with tussock and peat hags. How grand though to be moving through a wilderness with red deer for company. time to think, time to be.
Finally I descended from the cloud to Aberfoyle, jogged to the golf course and tucked into sandwiches kindly left by the golfers with gusto. More joy..
On a more serious note - dark nights mean drivers can't see you. Just about everyone was beautifully turned out at our club training night last Tuesday in Hi Viz kit but if you haven't got yours yet we have a large stock at the Gear for Girls store. Bibs are available in Hi Viz Pink and Flou Yellow.
Nathalie and Toria can be seen here modeling their Hi Viz kit on a beautiful sunny morning. Don't they look great....
And so it finally arrived....our first club training night back on the roads. We had tried to avoid it for as long as possible, stumbling around on the hills with head torches these last few weeks but with the clocks changing to was time to submit to the harsh discipline of the road.
We were promised an easy start to our winter training sessions........ha! How we were fooled. Gentle warm up exercises were soon cast aside and we were plunged straight into the harsh reality of four 1km laps of the Weetwood Avenue circuit run as a fartlek session.....eyeball out sprint followed by jogging followed by eyeball out sprint....you get the drift. Oh boy it was competitive and I had to sneak a quick drink break every lap just to keep body and soul together.
And then the Pièce de résistance - a slow jog back all the way down Weetwood Avenue, a slow turn - the tension mounting, a slow jog back to the half way point - jostling for position - no-one wanting to be in front, no-one wanting to hang too far back, no-one taking it seriously (of course)......and then, at the post box half way back down the avenue the action took off. A full out, no holds barred sprint for the last 200m....lungs gasping for air, muscles screaming, limbs flailing....just hanging in to make it to the end of the avenue and collapse in a heap.
Don't you love the competitveness of a club training night ....what better way to spend a wet, dark Tuesday evening.
After scaling the Tor's a few times this year i thought it about time i took my wife to see the views that i harp on about everytime on my return. We took the route from the Common to Commonburn farm and straight up beyond. Our first stop was Harelaw where a tired and red puffy face changed to a happy smile when see caught site of the vista that i had promised.
Only two Merry Men and a dog made it out this morning. Left Karl's went along the old railway at the Haughhead Ford, up to South Middleton, then up to Brands Corner, along a track to Middleton Crag. Stopped for a short break trying to get out of the wind and a quick photo oppotunity, back onto a very wet track back down to Brands Corner. Headed down to Carey Burn passed two walkers looking lost whilst looking at their map, they looked at us as if we were silly running down the hill. Over the bridge at Carey Burn and headed up Skirl Naked, passed another runner, went then left at Skirl Naked towards Earlhill Head. Where we said our goodbyes as Karl headed to Yearl and back home, I headed for the ponds then back home too. Karl texted a little to let me know the milage, a gentle 14 miles :-) Good run for all three of us.
For all of you starting or thinking about starting marathon training, this link is worth a look! Pete Burns guide to marathon training
Training seems to be paying off, as the Braken Babes are now conquering the mighty Yeavering Bell and White Law.
The Saturday mornings are starting a little later these days, due to the absence of the sun.
So at 7.30am we set off for Yeavering Bell via St. Cuthbert's Way, A lovely jaunt over the moorland. Then up to the summit of Yeavering Bell, I was last as usual but did make it to the top without collapsing. We had met two guys walking up, and did pass them near the bottom. We just go our breaths back and a couple of photos, when the guys made it to the top too.
Not wasting time we then headed back towards White Law, the path was Ok, but not quite I expected after a description from one of the Merry Men. We took more photos and tried an artistic one of our shadows below Yeavering Bell, it came out pretty well. The view north from White Law was great too, looking at Humbleton from a different direction was a good sight.
We then headed onto the Gleadscleugh track, then back onto St Cuthbert's Way almost at Black Law, over the "Boggy Moor". The run finished with a lap around the ponds to make the milage to 11.2 miles.
Not quite as adventurous as the Merry Men, but never the less a great run.
Kenny said he would put the story of todays run/walk/crawl on the website but i dont think he has any idea of where we have been,so i looked out a map and tryed to figure it out myself.
It was a cold but sunny sunday morning when me John,Alison and Pauline were led up the hill towards Wooler common by sherpa Young,none of us knew what was in store.We headed for Hedgehope via Hart heugh?carey burn bridge up past long crags and for the first time for me to the top of Hedgehope.We did'nt waste much time on top as it was freezing,misty and blowing a gale,just enough for me to touch the trig point which if i hadn't done sherpa young said he wouldnt acknowledge i had ever been there.
A great run down to Cunjan crags where after standing getting our breath back i noticed a bloke sitting looking out towards Linhope,turns out he had decided against climbing Hedgehope in favour of going back to a sunny Gateshead,i thought was he mad but little did i know in an hours time the thought of getting dragged round the metro centre by er indoors seemed the greatest thing on earth.
Things get a bit sketchy but after climbing Hare law we lost Alison to a badly cowped ankle,when i say lost her i dont mean we left her there her husband came and picked her up(damn,a chance to escape).There was about 2 miles of walking "aimlessly"as i put it through tough uncompromising terrain(dramatic enough for you).Kenny assured us that we weren't lost,just hadn't found a decent path yet,any kind of path would have done!then there it was a nice track that took us to Middleton Dean then South Middleton,normally i'm not keen on roads but today it was bliss.it was also the time most of us were starting to feel the pain,all except sherpa young who still seemed as fresh as a daisy,all those previous expaditions were certainly paying off
We got to Kennys 4 n half hours after leaving and having clocked up over 18 miles,the longest and hardest run i've ever done,but i wouldnt have missed it for anything-even the metro centre,cheers Kenny.
I must apologise for all of the spelling mistakes and typing errors on my last entry - my font is tiny (don't know how to change it) and I am typing blind - lost specs.
