Croaky and creaky.....

      The temperature was well below zero when I left the Yorkshire Dales yesterday and I couldn't help feeling I should have stayed and gone for a run through those beautiful riverbank fields - though I'm not sure my wonderful partner would have agreed with me. For over a week now I've been coughing and aching and talking with a funny, croaky voice, as have quite a few others in the village including the majority of our Church congregation. Three runs in the past seven days, amounting to a mere twelve miles, resulted in me collapsing through the door drenched in sweat and my heart rate up in the 150's.

Togged up for a cold winter run....down Postman's Steps..

      On Saturday, after a six mile jaunt round Appletreewick on leaden legs at a sick snail's pace, I decided enough was enough. It's time to rest and allow the old body to recuperate and regain a modicum of strength before jetting off to La Palma on St Valentine's Day. I'm saying 'I decided' enough was enough, but a certain other person had some persuasive words too, remembering the terrible state I was in last year, confined to our hotel room with the daddy of all colds and unable to move my head from side to side after my neck locked solid. Ibuprofen and paracetamol formed the main part of my diet.

      So, I was ever so good on Sunday, never

And never make the excuse you're too old....

stirring from the house, except for filling the coal bucket to keep the stove well stoked. I'll admit to getting a bit restless in the afternoon but forced myself to stay put, diverting attention from physical exercise by indulging in more mental pursuits of solving crosswords and codewords. I'm not sure which is the more exhausting! I slept well after it, though it could have been more to do with the rather large dram of malt whisky that rounded off our wonderful evening meal. However, when the sun rose on a sparkling white landscape. the old legs started to get a bit twitchy and restless again.  As they do.
      After stocking up on meat, yogurt, fruit and vegetables I returned home  to find a quarterly fuel bill lying on the mat that gave me a bit of a shock - to say the least! There was another irritating letter too stating that having turned seventy (by almost twelve years), it was time to renew my driving licence and questioned whether I was still fit to drive. The cheek of it.  I needed no further incentive to slip into running gear and tootle off for a recuperative three mile run to prove, if only to myself, that I'm still fit for most things - albeit some take a wee bit longer nowadays!  Well OK, a lot longer, and especially when it comes to signing cheques or answering impertinent questions from vehicle licencing authorities!

I ache, therefore I am.......

      A mild dose of man flu curtailed my activities a bit last week (any excuse will do!) so didn't get out as

River Wharfe in spate at Linton....

often as I'd have liked. The weather was pretty grotty too, as no doubt everyone will have read about in the National news, so I've had to rethink my running programme to escape the gales and general nastiness. I'm going soft in my dotage. I considered going back to the dreaded treadmill but the lady I rang at our local Sports Centre informed me it currently costs £3:60 per session to use the fitness suite.  Being a Yorkshireman, with a few drops of Scottish blood, that sounded a bit much, so the idea got put on a back burner until the weather turns really bad!

The amazing Ed Whitlock in flight....

      So what did I do? Well, I've been reading about old  Ed Whitlock, one of my racing contemporaries who holds about twenty world age group records over all sorts of distances, his latest being an incredible 3:41:58 in the Toronto marathon after just turning 82. Not bad that, eh! Does he do his long runs on scenic country routes? No.  Does he visit his local track for speed sessions? No. All he does is walk a couple of blocks to his local cemetery to run 600m circuits round the tombstones for an hour or two, or until he's feeling thirsty. He's done that for years and seems to prefer it to wide open spaces.

      

      Coincidentally, one of my speedier running acquaintances, 43 year old Dave Watson of

Dave Watson, another speed merchant..

Holmfirth Harriers, has also taken to training around the dead centre of our village, sometimes in the wee small hours with a headtorch, or by moonlight. Like everywhere else in the Pennines the graveyard sits on a slope so it's possible to do uphill reps for leg strength or downhill reps for leg speed. Dave sometimes does these twice a day - before his longer run over Castle Hill!  He's no slouch and boasts an impressive set of PB's most folk would be proud of - like 5,000m in 14:41 and 10,000m in a respectable 31:46.

      Last week I set off on a short trial run to suss things out. It's only three minutes across the fields to the gates of the cemetery, less when it's blowing a westerly gale, so I was soon teetering round the tombstones exploring the ups and downs and ins and outs of the many intersecting paths. On the second circuit I met a lovely old lady dabbing her eyes beside the well kept double grave of her husband and son.  "It draws me like a magnet" she said, and I understood why. She was grief stricken when her only son collapsed and died while running over Castle Hill. He was 60 years old and she firmly believes he'd still be alive today if he hadn't taken up running. I've tried but can't convince her otherwise. His father was only 64 when he died.

  

Snowdrops at Linton....

    Today I had the misfortune (!) to be leaving the house just as Dave Watson was passing - on his way to the cemetery. "I'll run with you" he said. Needless to say, it was impossible to match his strides, especially while talking at the same time, so it wasn't long before I was reduced to a short walk, come the first incline. Dave carried on his ceaseless chatter and I was mighty relieved when he departed after a couple of circuits and left me to my own devices! I was curious to know what my heart rate had rocketed up to while running with Dave, but on getting back home I discovered I'd forgotten to start my watch at the shock of having to run with him! I don't even know how long the run took, but pretty sure it was a lot quicker than last time!  My aching legs thought so too. Next time I'll make sure the coast is clear before I venture out for a run.....