On the run

“Morning.”

I’d seen the chap in the green wellies way up ahead as I ran along the coast path this morning. And bit by bit, I’d gradually caught up with him.

“Morning,” he replied, stepping to one side of the path to allow me to overtake him.

He looked me up and down slowly, in the way that farming-types do.

“You alright?”

I tried to adopt the air of someone for whom it’s perfectly normal to run around the Cornish countryside while caked completely in mud down the right hand side of my body, from my ear right down to my trainers.

“Yup,” I replied. “Lovely morning.”

He glanced again at the blood oozing out through the mud from the large graze on my knee and dribbling its way slowly down my shin.

“Bit slippery out.”

“So I noticed,” I grinned, and limped on my way.

Offroading

I’m not much of a fan of running on the road. Sure, I can if I need to. And it’s much easier to run fast if you don’t need to worry about where you put your feet. But road running is, how shall I say – a little in the boring side. Each step is very much like the one before and the one after. Running off road, however, is much more my cup of tea. Because you never know what the hell is going to happen next. Continue reading

On the right path

One of the best things about living (albeit only temporarily) in Cornwall is the proximity of the South West Coast Path. A recognised national trail, it stretches a whopping 630 miles from Somerset around to Dorset. And it passes only a half mile or so from ‘my’ house. For someone who likes running off road, this is great. And for someone who likes running off road on hills, it’s pretty much heaven.

The coast path

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King of the world

We’ve had a fairly hectic weekend, as usual, but earlier this evening the weather was so perfectly calm and still that I couldn’t resist a quick run before the sun set beyond the horizon. So I put on my trainers and headed out of town towards Tickenham ridge. This is the highest point around and has a view across the whole county. And even into another country.

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Sore feet… and a smile

It is done. After four hours, thirty nine minutes and fifty seconds of bimbling through the Somerset countryside, I have now completed my very first marathon. Yes, it was the Somerset Levels and Moors Marathon on Saturday and, after six months of ever longer training runs, I found myself on the start line and ready to go. My support team (Natalie and Molly) were a little less enthusiastic, but had managed to drag themselves out of bed to cheer me off at the start and peel me off the pavement at the finish.
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