Winter Wonderland
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| Do you have to let it linger? |
Having dispatched the head cold
that had lingered like the last fudge in a box of Roses for the
previous three weeks I was looking forward to plenty of running over the
holiday period. Sadly it wasn’t to be as another bug attacked on Christmas Eve
this time targeting the chest as well as the sinuses.
On Christmas day I coughed and
sniffed around Parkrun course. Despite my ailments it was a highly enjoyable.
The clear blue sky and winter sunshine was the perfect backdrop to the 308 runners,
many sporting Santa hats, who managed to complete the 3 miles before heading
home for a well earned dinner.
Two days later it was Parkrun time
again and I was feeling even worse. Still I crawled out of bed and dragged
myself round over six minutes slower than my usual pace. One Parkrun closer to
the 100 target.
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| Christmas Morning |
By the following Tuesday I was
desperate to go for a long run. The weather was perfect, the temperature
hovering around zero with cloudless skies and no wind. Before the holiday I had
envisioned two possibilities. One would take me to the local reservoir for a 7
mile lap of the water. The other involved a flat route along the old railway
line and back.
As yet undecided which path to
take I kitted up in meggins, gloves, beanie and my new Adidas waterproof
jacket. I set off in the car towards Brixworth, a local village where both
routes began, and weighed up the pros and cons of the two routes. Well the pros
anyway as there were no cons to a long run on a chilly but bright winter’s
morning.
Eventually I resorted to a coin
toss; heads the resi, tails the railway. Tails it was and I made my way to the
car park at the bottom of the hill. There were a couple of cars already there
but no one in sight as I warmed up. The air was sharp and clear and a dusting
of spiky, white frost rested on the grass and spiny tree branches.
The disused railway line used to
link Northampton with Market Harborough, a 14 mile route give or take. No tracks
have long since been removed and a gravel path now allows pedestrians and
cyclists to travel between the two. The track is narrow and winds through
fields and small hills following the river.
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| Winter |
A short stretch of this section
was included in last summer’s Shires and Spires Ultra race. I recalled the pain
and tiredness I had been feeling at that point six months before. 34 miles
under my belt and with the relentless heat of the June sun beating down on me I
had forced myself to keep running with the promise of a cool beer at the
finish.
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| Summer |
How different the conditions were
now and yet the two moments were linked by one thing - the joy of running. Just
as the countryside changes with the seasons, each one holding a distinctive and
particular beauty; the full leaf and warmth of summer, the colour of autumn,
the starkness and clarity of winter and the emergent life of spring, so running
changes with the seasons. I pondered on this for a while remembering how it
felt to run on those humid, sultry days. Weighed down with water bottles, cream
and a hat to protect from sunburn, the wicking of my short sleeved t-shirt
removing the sweat from my body. Such a contrast from the layers I had put on
that morning to keep protect from the cold, the long sleeves, tights, gloves
and wool hat.
Seeing no one around I let out a
loud “Whoo hoo!” that echoed and swirled around the low lying hills to either
side, bringing a smile to my face. Again I shouted at the top of my voice
knowing there was no one around to cause me to be embarrassed. It felt
liberating.
Around the next bend I had to
cross the A508 which carries those driving in the same direction. Here I passed
one of the few other people I saw during the hour and twenty minutes I was out.
She was much older than me and accompanied by a lolloping Irish Wolfhound.
At this point I wasn’t sure how
far I was planning to run. It was tempting to go all the way to Market
Harborough but that would be a 22 mile round trip. I decided to aim for the
Draughton crossing a couple of miles ahead which would take me up to 5 miles at
the half way point.
By now I was in a smooth and
comfortable rhythm. I find this often happens after about three or four miles
and last for about the same distance. My Garmin showed I was clocking up
consistent 8 minute miles, just enough pace to be pushing but not too much to
cause discomfort.
Reaching Draughton I stopped for a
couple of minutes to clear my nose and throat and then headed back. I fell into
a dream-like state where I was lost in my thoughts and unaware of my breathing
or the turning of my legs. I thought about the year ahead, my running plans, family
holiday plans, work plans.
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| The 'Way' |
Snapping out of my inner monologue
I took in afresh the surrounding countryside. The Midlands aren’t renowned for
their rural beauty in the same way that Cornwall, the Lake District or
Northumberland are. There are no majestic mountains, deep valleys, vast lakes
or stunning vistas but there is still a beauty that is contained within all of
creation and the natural world and is present in Northamptonshire. Gently
rolling farmland, small woods and meandering rivers present an appealing
backdrop that is easy on the eye and the spirit.
Before long I was drawing near to
the church spire and only a mile from the car. The sun was at it’s zenith and
yet had barely lifted itself above the tree line. I stopped as I completed the
tenth mile four seconds short of 80 minutes. Although tired I felt invigorated
and mentally refreshed.
