Last week should have been a rest week, no running and nothing very energetic until the course of antibiotics was completed on Friday. But "the best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft aglay"... and not just for old Rabbie Burns. I terminated the medication on Tuesday and went plodding off through fields for a steady 4 miles before sunrise on Wednesday.
|It turned frosty last week (Click pictures to enlarge)|
It was cold, very cold. I made a mental note to seek out more thermals when I got home. It's winter. Extra layers are needed now to lag my old bones. Before I'd even crossed the first field a little demon was shrieking at me to 'have some sense man, abort this crazy run and get the hell back to where it's warm'. I reminded him my central heating boiler is broken down....and carried on running into the sunrise. It's probably more mental than physical but it's amazing what a difference the sun makes as it peeps over the horizon, imparting it's energy and warmth.
|TomTom can manage maps but it doesn't know much about geriatrics|
My new GPS watch is full of surprises. It old me today that men of my age (85) 'typically' run 10K in 1.04.21 so I should quicken up!
I told it to sod off and come back when its got my age digits the right way round (having said that, I recall my 10K time was a little over 37mins aged 58 but I don't think that was 'typical' either).
|The cheek of it!|
|Revelling in Sunday's beautiful conditions|
I was blowing a bit after Friday's cemetery run which I'd shortened a bit in order to do it faster. Don't ask me why, that bloomin' TomTom I suppose...
Saturday was a non-day so far as running was concerned. My wonderful partner's upstairs phone, next to her computer, had given up the ghost, so we bought a new one. Having plugged it in, that wouldn't work either. I fiddled around but the only way to make it work was to place a micro-filter at both ends of the extension lead which is a big no-no. Her WiFi disappeared and wouldn't come back. We rang Plusnet to do a check from their end. They concluded her router was rather ancient and were posting a new one to us poste haste. We await its arrival.
|View from Bridge at Linton Falls|
Sunday dawned clear and bright so it wasn't long before we were donning our running gear ready for a slightly longer run to make up for Saturday's lack of mileage. We set off up river to Linton falls and were amazed how recent frost had brought down all the leaves from Chestnut trees that were so colouful the previous Sunday.
|Linton Church and Armistice celebrations left of picture|
Outside Linton Church the congregation were gathered around a memorial for the Armistice Day service. Their singing voices drifted up to us as we ran across fields high above, a beautiful poignant sound.
|These stiles get narrower..|
We were sure upright stones in old stiles had tilted closer together over the years making it more difficult to squeeze past. Indeed, one lady of generous proportions got herself jammed and had to be forcibly dragged free. Fortunately, we're still slim enough to wriggle through.
|Berries and bum, Thorpe village|
We reached the sleepy, hidden village of Thorpe where a photographer sunk down on one knee to film us as we ran through. I stopped to photograph a bush dripping with red berries and it wasn't until I'd blown it up I noticed a bum sticking up over the wall beside it.
|Running towards Burnsall|
Fine weather had attracted hoards of weekend walkers many of whom we ran past on the trail towards Burnsall which I believe was once voted Yorkshire's prettiest village - though there's not much of it!
Seventy years ago names like Burnsall, Grassington, Appletreewick, Barden Moor and Bolton Abbey read like a litany but were all quite inaccessible in my teenage years. Little did I know that years later I'd be running through these places on a regular basis.
|A few autumn colours left on the way to Burnsall|
|Resting by the new sign.|
Chicken liver paté was on the menu for lunch. I'm not sure which bottle(s) were used to enhance its flavour but it was absolutely delicious. My wonderful partner had lovingly made it to feed guests at a wine tasting group she hosts once a year. Meetings are held at members houses on the third Tuesday of each month and we mistakenly thought the next one should be this coming Tuesday. It was pointed out to us by a lady not yet prone to 'senior moments' that the third Tuesday is in fact the week after.
We've a lot of paté to eat.