Category: Short run

Somehow (don’t ask!), after a round of toast, a shower and another quadspresso, and with the weather now remarkably cloudy and cool, I found myself back in Wivelsfield on the start line of the 4.5-mile Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble.

The cooler turn of weather had been one of the reasons for me changing my mind, but as I stood waiting for the off, so the sun came back out and the temperature and humidity notched back up a gear.  Also, as I looked around me, there was a sea of different AC shirts… this was not going to be a walk in the park on any front.

The whistle sounded and we were off… in fact, about half the field just disappeared in a cloud of dust.  I settled into a more enjoyable pace, doing my best to shake loose of a girl listening to her iPlayer who clearly didn’t realise just, er, how shall we say this delicately… how laboured her breathing sounded.

Once clear I found an ideal carrot to follow – for those of you not in the Men’s Sussex Fitness League, this is generally a female bottom (or in the case of the paradoxical women members, a male one), although in my case a simple ponytail is a much better lure.

This particular Steyning Runners ponytail was perfect insofar that her pace was just faster than I wanted to go… I hung on as best I could, but she eventually got the better of me around the 4-mile mark.

In the dim and distant past, when I was younger and fitter, I would count down 3.5 minutes from the last mile marker and then start sprinting.  Being now more circumspect, older and definitely not as fit, I counted down two minutes from the last half-mile marker and then started merely to stretch my stride out a little.  With my long legs, this tactic enabled me to catch and pass the Steyning ponytail as she legged it down the final straight… sorry!

Even without a flat-out sprint I kind of just wanted to retch, but looking around at the gentile ensemble with their children milling around, I was persuaded that this was probably not a great idea.  Instead I spied a man with enough brains to sit on a covered bench, out of the now hot sun and I staggered across to join him.

Colin, it turned out, had only taken up running a couple of months ago having turned 50 and after a shoulder operation.  The fact that he had already taken up residence on the bench indicated that this injured newbie, four years my senior, had just beaten me round the course… curses!  But I forgave him on account of him turning out to be a bally nice chap!

It also turned out that he had joined the Burgess Hill Runners, which made me think that maybe I should cramp Kim’s style by joining up too.

So results to follow, but 4.5 miles in around 38 minutes… say 7mph.  Not fast, but not bad for my second wobble of the day!

Just one final mention in case you’re thinking that age or infirmity is some kind of barrier to getting out in the fresh air.  As I started my final charge to the line, so I left behind a guy from Haywards Heath Harriers who had pretty effortlessly kept up with me to that point.  I’ve run with him before (I think his name is Mark, but I’m not certain) and he is blind.  He was running with his own ponytail guide who was verbalising the course, which is largely off-road, as she went.  All I can say is Bravo!

After a slightly more intense (not to mention hot, as their air conditioning had broken down) than normal 9-hour immersion session with a new client on Friday, followed by an almost 2-hour return rail journey, I did very little yesterday other than read, relax and, um, sleep.  And very restful it was too, laying on the recliner in the heat of the afternoon, imagining I could hear the swish of the waves gently lapping at the beach.

Until about 6pm when the heat dropped sufficiently for action-Foster to dash a second coat on most of the back wall of the house.

This morning, despite rising relatively early, I was captivated by my new book (Robin Dunbar is right when he says that we are fascinated by people and behaviour… this book is about the behaviour of the small number of people who drove the recent financial meltdown and it is riviting) and didn’t emerge to run until 7.40am, by which time it was already hot.  My intentions had been grandiose, but I soon realised, having run in the open as far as Ote Hall, that I needed to find some tree-cover lest I melt.

Thus I found myself running through Wivelsfield as the Burgess Hill Runners were setting up the course for this morning’s Wivelsfield Woodland Wobble.  It was a shame I didn’t know it was on as I might have run it, but starting at 11am it would surely be a scorcher and I was already feeling somewhat humid.

I headed for home through the cool shelter of the Magical Path, covering 6.2 miles in 1 hour exactly.

Picture me, if you will, sitting peacefully in the tea-house, lap-top on lap, cup of Earl Grey to… er, hang on just a minute.  As I was saying, picture me in the tea-house with a cup of Earl Grey to hand, penning this very line and appreciating the fruits of yesterday’s labour: The big hedge which I gently manicured (with the aid of a hedge-trimmer), the clear roof of the tea-house, which I washed and hosed down, and the tall bamboo panels in the corner ahead of me as I sit, which I removed and replaced straight as they had been knocked sideways by my neighbours replacing their own garden fence.

I did one or two other things and the general combination sent me to sleep on the sofa around 8.30pm… from this point, aside from getting up and going to bed, I slept for 11.5 hours straight and woke this morning in a slightly groggy frame of body.

Nevertheless, after a banana, a good strong coffee and an hour spent reading the Economist, I sallied forth in my liveried running kit.  Cliff had been unable to run this morning and while I briefly flirted with the idea of driving to Jack & Jill, it was simpler to run straight from the house.  Mindful that my last two runs were short ones around the same circuit, I determined to go a different way and for slightly longer.

I ran out past Ote Hall and to the small hamlet around Wivelsfield Church, where even the public footpaths are well kept.

I then ran past the quizzical Alpacas (although I always think of them as Debbs Pyjamas, so convinced was I that this American friend of Darens was hallucinating about what she had seen on a walk around the local countryside!)

As I ran to Wivelsfield itself and out the other side, I reflected how beautiful the countryside around here really is.

I ran most of the way down Hundred Acre Lane before cutting across to the industrial estate and on down the Magical Path.

From here it was only a short way home across the common.

Overall it was a very pleasant run indeed and though I was alone (as you can be with dog-walkers, cyclists and other runners on a warm June day), it was gratifyingly less like the target-driven training runs that typified the first four months of the year!  This was reflected in the 1.13 that it took me to cover 7.45 beautiful miles (a slumberous 6.12mph).

Tea finished, I must away and find a chore or two to do, lest I can’t get to sleep on the sofa this evening.

Cliff had thrown down a gauntlet of sorts yesterday by suggesting that I could (in part) redeem my relay-absence by running the Seaford half-marathon, scheduled to start at 9am this morning.

So 8.45am found me ready for the off for the first time in a month.  Alas, I was nowhere near Seaford at all!

Instead, I ran my lovely little short circuit and was glad… glad that I hadn’t run in the heat of yesterday and glad that I hadn’t been so stupid as to rise to Cliff’s gauntlet.  Why?  Because, despite the comparative coolness of the morning, it was super humid out there after the torrential rain last night.

I was also glad to be back in the lush greenness of the UK!

5.2 miles in 44 minutes, despite the humidity and the lack of practice… not a bad first outing, but I fear that I’m going to have to come up with some better excuses if I’m going to skive off any more big races!

This morning, delayed by a lay-in, dawned cool and overcast and after the gorgeous spring weather that we were experiencing in April, felt colder than it probably was.

I put my longs on, along with a long-sleeved top with a t-shirt over the top. This was sheer vanity, I’m afraid, as the tight black shirt and tights hide none of my bulk, or rather lack of it!

As I trotted off down the road I realised that my hips still ache when I run… I was hoping that I would have recovered from the rigours of the marathon & training programme by now.  I’ve not been stretching diligently lately though, so that could be part of the problem, but at least the discomfort faded as the run progressed.

My route today was the same as last week… the lovely path out to the Royal Oak, Wivelsfield, West Wood and the Magical Path… and early on I decided that I would at least try for a good time.   Reading my posts you might surmise that I’m more often reluctant than not and this morning was no different… I was happy to run, but it wasn’t super-enjoyable!

Within ten minutes I had got hot under the two layers but I pushed on regardless.  The going was mainly dry and rutted which meant that I was running with my gaze just in front of my feet most of the time.  It was generally hard work and I hoped that this indicated that I was running faster, rather than I was unfit.

There is little of consequence to report other than I almost caught a lady with her trousers down on the Common… she had just stepped into a snug little corner in the bushes and lifted her jacket as if she were preparing to have a pee when she clocked me running down the hill towards her… it was a close run thing and there was an almost tangible sigh of relief on both sides!

I motored along the last section of road to the house to finish in a time that was less than 44 minutes, which I was not overly impressed with.

Until I looked back at my previous times and realised that out of the 22 times I’ve run this route, my best time ever was 43 minutes and I’ve also only managed 44 minutes once before  So second-best time ever and although it wasn’t easy, I didn’t keep the pressure on all the way around so I reckon I could do it faster.