After Saturday's 9 mile run around Kettlewell and Conistone Pie I'd made a special point of stretching well and using The Stick to ease aching calves, hams and quadriceps. My shoulders ached too, it must be the awkward way I run. A short, gentle run was planned for Sunday morning in an attempt to ease away the tension and get things working smoothly again. A runner's 'hair of the dog' so to speak.
|Our churchyard is full of snowdrops, can Spring be far away? (Click to enlarge)|
During a sermon spawned by Englands famous victory over the Welsh at Cardiff Arms Park the previous Friday evening our rugby loving Minister, Rev David Macha, urged us all to ponder on the truly great happening in life, to feed our souls on unforgettable memories and meaningful milestones - which was a silly thing to do because my mind immediately wandered away from the rest of his sermon and subsequently lost my place in the service book during Communion.
. I'm very good at pondering and was casting my mind back to one of my own life-changing victories that took place in the Pennine Marathon on July 5th, 1987 when, at the ripe old age of 55, God quite unexpectedly showed me I could run. In 28 years since, I've never stopped running and never stopped thanking Him for this wonderful gift that continues to enrich my life well into my dotage.
But it took more than Communion wine to stir my old bones into action.. Two strong cups of coffee, each accompanied by one of my wonderful partner's chocolate brownies, finally gave me strength to climb the stairs and change into running clothes. It was another glorious morning, hardly a cloud in sight and only the faintest breeze to stir the trees as we set off on our 'short' run.
However, as we fell into a rhythm going up the ghyll, dodging the icy bits and jumping the beck, we began to enjoy ourselves and unanimously agreed to go further, to get some miles in the bank, if ever we're going to enter local Park Runs or other low key events again. We continued climbing, into the sun, to the high point at the 'stone man' - the cairn at 1,500ft - where we turned for home.
|Onward and upwards, crossing Hebden beck|
|Crossing the stile onto Grassington Moor at Cupola Corner.....|
|Bank of cloud at the 'stone man'|
|Running briefly towards the sun again on the icy Mossdale track...|
|Into the rough stuff down the long wall..|