The run where we fear for our lives
“Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where
there is no path, and leave a trail.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
One of the reasons I love running is that it enables you to explore and discover new places.
Last night John and I went for an evening run around Dover. We started with a steep 8% incline for the first two miles leaving us panting and sweating as we reached the top of the hill. A good warm up.
We then made our way through Whitfield to the north of the town and headed back down into River, a small suburb on the outskirts which must have once been a village. It has a watermill, some quaint little cottages and lots of 1970's housing all around it.
Crabble Lane leads out of the area up another very steep incline. Again we gasped and heaved ourselves to the top, now to the east of the centre. I had driven through this area a few days ago and spotted the ruins of St Radegund's Abbey so we jogged to it.
The Abbey was founded in 1192 by the White Canons, named after the colour of their habits. They originated in the Premonstratensian order from Picardy in northern France and followed an austere interpretation of the rules of St Augustine. They named it after St Radegund, a princess who was the daughter of a pagan King from southern Germany. She was born in 518 AD and founded the monastery of the Holy Cross in Poitiers.She died in 587 AD aged 69.
It is now a ruin and surrounded by a working farm and holiday cottage lets. From here I had a rough idea of the direction we should take and we set off across a wheat field. Then the adventure began...
That field led to another, and another before we came to a valley. At the bottom of the slope was a house, some farm equipment, and what looked like a dirt race track. A rudimentary road made of crushed brick and rubble led down t it and up the hill the other side. We descended and realised we were in a small paddock surrounded by barbed wire.
At this point it began to feel very eerie and both of us wanted to leave pretty quick. Images of corpses strung up in trees and crazy men with guns started assailing us so we jumped the fence and made a sharp exit.
By now I was lost but tried to persuade John I knew where we were going. We crossed another field and then I did start to get my bearings. Thankfully the huge antenna on a nearby summit gave us at least a direction to follow as we knew it was stationed in the village of Hougham.
Finally I saw the farmhouses I had been looking for and knew we had again found the trail. We ran past fields full of oats and could hear foxes running around in the midst of it making a swishing sound. I also enjoyed running my hands through it for the same reason.
We dived into the woodland and ran full pelt along the twisting trails, leaping fallen trees, ducking drooping branches, dodging protruding roots and enjoying the challenge of keeping our footing. We emerged into the fading evening light as the sun began to set over the nearby ridge, it's beams piercing the cloud cover.
A steady jog down the trail led us to the back of my house where we spied a cheeky little girl who should have been asleep standing on her windowsill waving to us. We had completed 9.4 miles so obviously we had to run around the block to make it a round 10 which we duly did.
We had followed many trails but it also felt as though we had made one too. It had been an adventure and we hadn't been shot at. All in all a good run.
Last night John and I went for an evening run around Dover. We started with a steep 8% incline for the first two miles leaving us panting and sweating as we reached the top of the hill. A good warm up.
We then made our way through Whitfield to the north of the town and headed back down into River, a small suburb on the outskirts which must have once been a village. It has a watermill, some quaint little cottages and lots of 1970's housing all around it.
Crabble Lane leads out of the area up another very steep incline. Again we gasped and heaved ourselves to the top, now to the east of the centre. I had driven through this area a few days ago and spotted the ruins of St Radegund's Abbey so we jogged to it.
The Abbey was founded in 1192 by the White Canons, named after the colour of their habits. They originated in the Premonstratensian order from Picardy in northern France and followed an austere interpretation of the rules of St Augustine. They named it after St Radegund, a princess who was the daughter of a pagan King from southern Germany. She was born in 518 AD and founded the monastery of the Holy Cross in Poitiers.She died in 587 AD aged 69.
It is now a ruin and surrounded by a working farm and holiday cottage lets. From here I had a rough idea of the direction we should take and we set off across a wheat field. Then the adventure began...
That field led to another, and another before we came to a valley. At the bottom of the slope was a house, some farm equipment, and what looked like a dirt race track. A rudimentary road made of crushed brick and rubble led down t it and up the hill the other side. We descended and realised we were in a small paddock surrounded by barbed wire.
At this point it began to feel very eerie and both of us wanted to leave pretty quick. Images of corpses strung up in trees and crazy men with guns started assailing us so we jumped the fence and made a sharp exit.
By now I was lost but tried to persuade John I knew where we were going. We crossed another field and then I did start to get my bearings. Thankfully the huge antenna on a nearby summit gave us at least a direction to follow as we knew it was stationed in the village of Hougham.
Finally I saw the farmhouses I had been looking for and knew we had again found the trail. We ran past fields full of oats and could hear foxes running around in the midst of it making a swishing sound. I also enjoyed running my hands through it for the same reason.
We dived into the woodland and ran full pelt along the twisting trails, leaping fallen trees, ducking drooping branches, dodging protruding roots and enjoying the challenge of keeping our footing. We emerged into the fading evening light as the sun began to set over the nearby ridge, it's beams piercing the cloud cover.
A steady jog down the trail led us to the back of my house where we spied a cheeky little girl who should have been asleep standing on her windowsill waving to us. We had completed 9.4 miles so obviously we had to run around the block to make it a round 10 which we duly did.
We had followed many trails but it also felt as though we had made one too. It had been an adventure and we hadn't been shot at. All in all a good run.
