The trail is ankle deep in mud. There are large U shaped holes in the ground. My brain is working overtime to relay information from my eyes to my legs to avoid breaking an ankle. I'm descending at speed through pine forest with shouts of 'Horse!' echoing behind me. Moments later I hear the heavy breathing of a quadruped moving at speed. The drumbeat of hooves on turf are replaced with the splashing and squelching of the sodden earth. I feel a warmth on the back of my neck, almost imperceptible, likely imagined. Turning my head I risk a fall, but I need to see my foe. I glimpse the auburn mount bearing down on me, helmeted rider perched atop. I dive to the side of the trail just in time. The speeding steed is past in a moment. I watch as horse and rider gallop on and vanish into the shadows. This isn't a recurring nightmare - that's the one about leading parkrun and then getting lost - nor is it my experience of participating in an anti-hunting protest. This was h
A post on Facebook caught my attention. This is how many of my running adventures begin. Bex Band, founder of the women's adventure community Love Her Wild had walked across all the bridges in Greater London. Obviously this meant the Thames River. Less obviously there are 33 bridges in total starting at Hampton Court and ending at Tower Bridge. Of these, 26 have pedestrian access and she had crossed them all. 'Hmm, that would make a good run' was my first thought. Seed planted. A couple of months later on a mild, bright January day I travelled to Richmond. My first run was Richmond parkrun with my friend Vicki and her pal Nicola. 3.1 miles, no dear and a warming coffee later, I ran the nine miles to Hampton Court. Twelve miles done and I was ready to start my run! My goal was to cross each bridge when I came to it. That meant crossing Hampton Bridge and a sign denoting entrance to Surrey before turning and re-crossing it to begin. Yes, I am a pedant. Hampton Court Bridge I
We had been descending for close to a mile. It was a steady descent, more than runnable. A chance to stretch out the legs. At the bottom we stopped at the checkpoint to refill out water bottles from the fast flowing stream when cramp struck. I watched as my friend Matt grimaced in agony and beads of sweat fell from his brow. The muscles of his inner thighs had completely spasmed. He was unable to move. We were nine miles into day two of our three day Lakeland adventure with fifteen miles and numerous summits still to go. It was a relief when after a few minutes he was able to take a few hesitant steps. Disaster seemed to have been averted. We continued along a flat road before beginning our next ascent. Suddenly, Matt let out a cry and fell to the floor writhing in pain. The cramps were back. The day seemed to be over and we began to discuss how to get back to the campsite. ----------------- Matt, his wife Kelly and I had booked onto the Scarpa Great Lakeland 3 Day that is held in the