A slight trauma.....

"The CT scan showed nothing abnormal to your brain so you can go home now"  Those were the words of an unsmiling, unsympathetic, heartless woman who masqueraded as a doctor at Huddersfield Royal Infirmary to where I'd been rushed in a blaring ambulance, unable to walk without support and unable to sign a consent form with my left hand.

"How will I get home?" I asked.

"Can't someone pick you up?"

"Not really,".  My partner was at  a meeting 30 miles away and her phone was switched off"

"Haven't you enough money for a taxi?" was her next question.

"Well, yes, but I was rather expecting you'd provide transport and a little help".

"Well, we can but not for about four hours" she said, abruptly turning on her heel and leaving me stranded in a wheelchair. 

 I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  Warmth, sympathy and understanding, parts of the Hippocratic Oath, seemingly meant nothing to her.

I fumbled my way along the wall out of the ward, dragged my leg up stairs and across the bridge to the main entrance and phoned a taxi that kindly took me as near to my door as he could get.

I spent a weekend licking my wounds, lovingly cared for by my wonderful partner.

"Perhaps you should try a little walk down to the river" she said on Sunday.

I tried but could only manage a few hundred yards on wobbly legs.
. . . . . .

Back home in Almondbury I forced myself into "I can and I bloody well will" mode.

On a sunny Monday lunchtime I managed a mile walk with a stop off at a favourite fish and chip shop for sustenance.

I did it    (Click to enlarge pictures)

Tuesday found me heading up Castle Hill, determined to make it to the top a mile and 300ft of ascent ahead.  I did, after one or two little rest stops. 

A gentleman flying a drone was persuaded to photograph me in front of the tower.  He was impressed when I explained I couldn't even walk 100 yds 4 days ago.  I wanted the picture to prove I'd actually made it.

Trying a few reps...

On Wednesday I was on a local cricket field attempting short repetitions, but at speed my left leg seemed reluctant to go the same way as me!  After three or four attempts I opted for a steady circuit and called it a day.

Come Saturday evening my wonderful partner enquired  "You wont be getting up for a run round Grimwith in the morning,will you?"   "We'll see" I replied.

Running round Grimwith reservoir, albeit slowly, 4 days after my TIA

Much to her surprise, at 6.30 I was out of bed and rarin' to go!

After running the 4½ mile circuit I was back at the car ahead of her, leaned over the door laughing somewhat hysterically.
Old Runningfox was back in action.

Made it, all the way round

OK, I was 13 minutes slower than usual, and maybe didn't look very stylish, but nine days earlier I was feeling distraught and wondering whether I'd ever run again.

I wont be running as often in future.  I'd even considered changing the name of my blog to 'The online diary of a Geriatric Jogger' but 'jogger' is a dirty word among runners!
Besides, I think I still look like a runner (?).

Keeping going

Some days later, I tootled off on another hilly run accompanied by my wonderful partner.

Passing the mast on High Lane 

  Embarrassed by my slowness I'd chosen a route where hopefully no-one would see us but was surprised to pass quite a few weekend walkers.

Through the gate on Tinker's Lane

There were dark clouds, very little sunshine but intense humidity.  We'd started out over-dressed and had to shed layers half way round.

Delightful running on Tinker's Lane

It had forecast thunderstorms so we were anxious to get home before they struck.  But there were still things that stopped us in our tracks.

Flowering heather

Like a patch of early flowering heather ahead of the 'Glorious Twelfth' that just had to be photographed and smelt.

Hey, wait for me...

It came darker for a time, calling for us to put fastest foot forward and get on our way.

Running under a cloud

At this stage I was struggling to keep up as my wonderful partner tore off ahead, but was content to trundle along at my own speed, just happy to be out running again after the recent trauma.

At the gate by High Garnshaw

Reaching the gate by High Garnshaw farm the air was filled with the bleating of penned sheep, possibly waiting to be stripped of their woolly coats.

Meadowsweet in the ghyll

We pressed on, down the ghyll, past nodding harebells and fragrant meadowsweet to arrive home dry so far as rain was concerned but otherwise soaked in sweaty gear that went straight into the washer to freshen up..
Ready for next week....

A favourite place....

Last week I'd an appointment with the one doctor in our local practice who's sport orientated,  one who understands how my body works, one to whom I can reveal all.  It was on the insistence of my wonderful partner whose been none too happy about me cancelling an operation for a blocked and swollen kidney, an operation considered 'extremely urgent' by a hospital doctor back in April.  My reasoning that I felt fine and the other kidney is working perfectly OK doesn't seem to wash with anyone. 

Nowt wrong wi' me...      (Click to enlarge pictures)

 Anyway, the outcome was that my doctor will contact the surgeon concerned to ascertain whether he is still willing to do the operation and whether it can be done at our BMI private hospital. 

So, somewhat against my will, I may yet be knocked out and set upon by that guy in a mask with his slashing knife.

Thyme along the Skuff road  

 Next morning I was back in Hebden doing hill reps (only four) with my wonderful partner along the Skuff road before breakfast.  Hedgerows and roadside verges are at their summer best with a profusion of flowers and cushions of wild thyme with lots of busy bees intent on producing honey for Sainsburys. 

House martins hawking around Hebden village

Swallows and swifts are a bit thin in the air this year but house martins have returned to their usual nest sites tucked under the eaves.

Foxgloves by the fish farm in Hebden Ghyll

Foxgloves in the ghyll are in full bloom and a gentleman passing by as I photograhed some of them commented on the 'fox' connection between the flowers and my 'runningfox' vest.

Looks like aliens have landed...

On Saturday morning I set out on a favourite 8 mile run over Grassington Moor and Bycliffe Hill, hoping to get round before it got really hot.  I failed, and I suffered.

The reason I rarely see anyone - it's dangerous!  And I love it.

I love this route, its wildness and loneliness, nature in the raw where I can sit in some remote spot, close my eyes and be transported by muttering winds, a curlew calling, the occasional bleating of a faraway sheep - or a tingling silence.

Taking it easy in the heat

The Met Office had forecast wall to wall sunshine with temperatures in the region of 80º and high humidity.  They were right on the last two but only occasionally did sunshine oblige.

This sheep maybe thought I was crackers.

It was uphill for the first four miles, nigh on a thousand feet past all the trappings associated with past lead mining activities. 

Path beside the flue up to the chimney

Sweat poured from me as I ran beside the flue that took fumes from the old smelt mill to be released through a chimney high on the moor..

Heath bedstraw

Other than a purple haze of heather in autumn there are few flowering plants on the moor, the odd asphodel and venus flytrap, cloudberries, patches of cotton grass and heath bedstraw.

Onwards and upwards to Casino Royale

Past the chimney there was a rough, ankle twisting section before the long stony track leading to what we refer to as Casino Royale - because that's where the opening scene of that film was shot.

Trackless Bycliffe Hill ahead of me

I would shortly be turning onto Bycliffe Hill, the roughest part of the route where I was to learn that even the old sheep trod I used to follow is no longer there.

Being a bit careful through tricky, trackless territory

 I was in rough, tussocky territory I'd never crossed before, but I'd run over this hill so many times previously I knew exactly where I was heading.

Stones in the middle of nowhere

A strange pile of white stones had me wondering why they'd been put there?  Or who'd put them there?  I'd never seen them before.

The big rabbit hole high on the hill

My navigation was spot on and in another few minutes I came upon my first rest spot, a deep shakehole which, ever since I've visited it, has been inhabited by rabbits. A strange place for them to live! 

My marker cairn coming off the moor

I left and ran along the rim of the hill towards the Mossdale track, past peat hags and down through a short rocky section to hit my little marker cairn - spot on.

Brakes off - cruising past the high point at 1,500ft

From here I could throw caution to the wind while winding things up a bit along the level track to the 'stone man' at 1,500ft.

View along the Mossdale track from the stone man

It might be mainly downhill all the way from here but all that running uphill in the heat had sapped my energy and I was slipping into automatic pilot.

Setting off down the long wall

In days gone by I'd do a fast, measured mile down the long wall from the Mossdale track to a sheep pen far below.  It was one of three consecutive sub 6 minute miles on my way back to Hebden,  an enjoyable ingredient of sub three hour marathon training.
In my 60's.

One day a heap of bones like this on the moor will probably be me!

Since I stopped racing I never time myself but reckon that same mile must take almost three times as long as before.  Fitness and fun on my feet are all that matter now.  A Facebook posting the other day said 'Good health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die'.
I'll go with that!

I came across this wheatear suddenly and made it jump!

In days gone by in Spring and early summer I'd sometimes see ring ouzels perched on the long wall.  All I saw on this occasion were meadow pipits and wheatears.

Wonderful springy turf near the sheep pens

At one point a curlew got very agitated and I tried to record it.   It wasn't very successful because it could hardly be heard beyond the sound of my heavy breathing!

Rocky crossing of Coalgrove Beck

Some blue sky and beautiful cloud formations appeared towards the north as I leapt across the almost dried up Coalgrove Beck

 but I wasn't going in that direction.

Last sultry mile down Hebden Ghyll

Back in Hebden Ghyll the overcast, sultry conditions were much the same as when I'd set off.   My vest was soaked and I reckoned my temperature was going through the roof.   Reaching home I filled a milk bottle with cold water and poured it over my head.  Three times.

TomTom said I'd run 8.20 miles with 933ft of ascent and I reckoned that called for a rest over the next couple of days.  

At least. 

Another week, another few miles...

On the morning of summer solstice I crawled out of bed at 3.45am, donned my running gear and drank an extra strong cup of coffee.  Half an hour later I was jogging up Castle Hill to greet the sun.  Strewth, I couldn't believe how many others were there already.  The car park was heaving, a crowd had gathered round the tower while various individuals and couples were spaced around the hill, all facing east to witness the imminent sunrise.

Solstice sunrise   (Click to enlarge)

At exactly 4.36am the sun duly obliged and as it peeped over the horizon a group by the tower began singing softly, words and music quite unfamiliar to me.

Solstice service.

Others, some in druidic robes,  appeared to be reciting a form of litany from sheets of notes.   Dressed only in shorts and vest I felt rather uncomfortable and out of place in such company so, after taking a few pictures, quickly scurried home.

Setting off on Saturday's run

 Weekend activities were a repeat of runs I've recorded scores of times in my blog so a few photographs will have to suffice.

The road loop

We set off on Saturday to run what we call the Appletreewick lollipop.

Passing the camp site

It goes mainly along the River Wharfe and back with a loop out onto the road and back round the camp site at the far end.

Burnsall Bridge

 We abandoned the riverside path at Burnsall Bridge on account of hoards of people with their children and dogs.

Anyone know what this is?

  We ascended a steep bank up to the Skuff road where we came upon a strange, tall plant that has only appeared this year.

Brakes off, full speed ahead

Once out onto the Skuff road we'd a section of fast running back towards Hebden.

 

  We were out of bed early on Sunday morning for another favourite run round Grimwith reservoir.

Foxgloves, orchids, yellow rattle and bugle lined our path back 'o Grimwith.

Amazingly, among the bracken we came across more of that strange plant we'd seen the day before.

Agitated mum

At the lagoon a mallard was very agitated as it waddled back and forth along the top of a weir.

Mother duck sliding down to rejoin her family.

 It transpired all its ducklings had been having great fun whizzing down the weir into the drain below.

Together again

They were all united in the drain below, though goodness knows how long it would take them to find their way out..

Early purple orchids

We left them to figure it out (the drain passes under the road and empties into the reservoir) and continued along the orchid lined path. 

Through thick carpets of alchemilla,

over the wee bridge, up to the car park and away home for porridge, toast and coffee

 - a well earned breakfast