The very antithesis of a dry run

Sat in the garden in the blazing sun this afternoon, you’d probably find it hard to believe just how wet it was on the Downs this morning when Cliff, Dai and I went for a run.  Such was the inclemency of the day that my comrades both turned up wearing trail shoes, with gaiters!  Had I thought, I could have brought mine, but then I would only have followed their lead like a sheep… a dangerous thing to be when Dai is around… allegedly!

We set off up the hill from Lewes Prison into the murk and within ten minutes there was water dripping uncomfortably from my left short, although it’s amazing how the whole spectre of getting wet differs between walking and running.  Walking can be utterly miserable on a wet & windy day, but running is often exhilarating… providing you’re wearing the right gear, that is!

At the first gate, Cliff and I were a little ahead and he amazed me by dropping to the floor for ten press-up and ten squat-thrusts, followed by another ten for good measure.

We passed Blackcap and he repeated the exercise at the next gate.  And the next.  And the next too, although it was difficult to see him through the mist & rain.  By this point we were at Ditchling Beacon and though I made a mental note of the time, I seem to have forgotten what it is now… maybe around 52 minutes.

From here we headed south to the top of Stamner Park, where Dai had predetermined to split off in order to head for home… sensible lad, that Dai and I should have gone with him.

Instead, Cliff took me on a magical mystery tour of the hills and valleys to the north of Falmer, although, to be fair, he did give me choice.  ‘We can either go down to St Mary’s Farm, across to Balmer Farm and back up to Blackcap’ he said, ‘or you can wimp right out (you wuss) and take the namby-pamby shortcut’.  He also pointed out that he had been seven-years-old last time he took the latter path.  Hmmm, let me think for a moment.

The sense of loss, in height, to get to St Mary’s Farm was palpable, especially as every step down (in the rain) was a step that would have to be replaced at some point.  It was at this point that I clearly smelt bacon, eggs & fried bread on the wind, but since that really wasn’t possible, I realised that it was my mind’s way of requesting more energy.

The run back out of the valley was okay, but as we got onto a gently rising ridge path around the ten-mile / hundred minute mark, I suddenly found myself right out of energy, or will-power… either way, I was walking.  Cliff was very gracious and walked with me, although it was clear that he had only just warmed into the run!

I walked pretty much all the way from there to the rise before Blackcap, with not-quite-two miles taking 25 minutes.  We ran from the gate to the cairn and on down towards Lewes and as Cliff made it a round-hundred press-ups and sit-ups while I paused for a pee, the weather finally began to clear and we could see Kingston ridge for the first time.

I just about managed to run to Lewes Racecourse, but past there I oscillated gently between running, walking & staggering… oh, and eating wild blackberries.

The whole run was two hours forty minutes for 14.7 miles and all things considered I’m surprised that the average speed was only slightly slower than normal at 5.5mph… still, not great!

The backs of my legs were more totally caked in mud than I care to remember, but I don’t have a picture so you’ll just have to take my word for it.  Likewise the rain in general!  Now, I must hobble back to the safety of the sofa!

2 Replies to “The very antithesis of a dry run”

  1. Cliff

    What did you do to David? He arrived home desperately clutching onto a box of eggs…. he just about dragged himself out of the car, but he couldn’t talk, could hardly walk.. and even now he hasn’t moved from the sofa… I’ve not seen him that shattered before….. When is your next run??

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