A good day...

In spite of dense fog and temperature hovering around zero I managed to get out running again this morning.  With the exception of Keighley Parkrun, which I never should have run in my bronchitic state, it was my first run since November 2nd.

Not a lot to see, even if you  (Click to enlarge)

Fields have become slippery and slutchy again and I was glad I'd chosen to wear Inov-8 X-talons with sufficient grip to help me stay upright.  I have seven different Inov-8 models for varying running surfaces.  In spite of adverse conditions it felt wonderful to be out again, alone through empty fields and up onto Castle Hill before sunrise.  Actually, the sun never shone all day.

Lt to RT:  Inov-8 X-talons, Trail Rocs, Mud claws

Surprisingly, another runner, a fast moving girl, had reached the summit before me and already done her circuits.  With a cheery 'good morning' she went hurtling back down, leaving me alone in the eerie silence.

That dog...

To get some strength back into my legs after their recent lay-off I launched into a series of hill reps, only 100m but fairly steep and I ran them fast.  I'd only done three when 'that dog' materialised from the murk, the snarling, frothing creature I'd reported to the police back in July.  I spoke gently to it as it sniffed my legs.  It stood back, eyeing me suspiciously before returning to its shouting owner and I wondered if it remembered me as the one who'd sprayed it with 'Bite Back' those four months ago?  I'll start carrying that spray again - in case it's forgotten.

A friendly nuthatch

I beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction to return home after only three miles.  But I was happy and felt I'd earned my chocolate milk and hearty breakfast.  A nuthatch seemed happy too, totally ignoring the nuts as it scoffed the last of the seeds from the feeder.
It's been a good day...

Hardly a walk in the park......

"I've brought my running stuff" my wonderful partner announced upon arrival at Windhover, a statement that prompted a naughty word to pass through my mind.  What she meant was "I'm intending to do the Cliffe Castle Parkrun in Keighley on our way back to Hebden in the morning".   Not fully recovered from whatever nasty lurgy it was that had flattened me over the last three weeks I was in no fit state to accompany her but knew full well I would.  "OK, I'll jog round behind you" I said,  preferring that to standing around in the cold waiting for her to finish.
But it didn't quite work out like that.

A Strava profile of the course from my watch
(Click all pictures to enlarge)

Saturday morning dawned cold, windy, damp and misty - conditions that reduced the number of participants to just 137.  Or maybe it was the steep hill on each of the three laps that put people off ever returning to run this course twice.
Being fell runners, we coped.

The lady's W70-74 course record stood at 39 minutes and a few seconds, a time I'd told my wonderful partner she could beat.  I'd meant it as an incentive to put her foot down and set off in pursuit of a new record.   And she did.

Through the roof

We were both a bit shocked at the steepness and length of the hill on this course and were forced to adjust pace accordingly.  For me it was a case of hands on knees and walk as fast as possible to get to the top - as fell runners do - but my heart rate went through the roof.

A celebratory dram

However, there was a happy outcome for us, more so for my wonderful partner who crossed the line in 37.57 to set a new record in her category, but a record for me too with 36.12 in the M85-89 category.  Longwood Harriers raiding party had struck again.   Back home in the evening we'd a celebratory dram and fell into bed feeling smug and happy.

Top and bottom of it

  To be honest, my record was fairly meaningless, only happening because everyone else of my vintage had sensibly shunned this challenging course.   When/if ever we're both fit again we'll have another go at it and try to improve those WAVA gradings.

Hebden Crag

I was a bit stiff the following day (a gross understatement) so whilst my wonderful partner attended a compulsory National Parks meeting in Grassington I took myself up the ghyll for some gentle walking in an attempt to loosen up.

It was a cold day of clear, blue skies with a gentle breeze.  

Scala Falls in Hebden Ghyll

I scrambled past the foot of the crag but had no desire to ever climb it again.  Then on to the Miner's Bridge where I failed to get any decent pictures.  I lingered an hour or so in a warm, sunny hollow, taking pictures of Scala Falls before my battered body began telling me it was badly in need of sustenance.   I turned for home, deciding I'd better take notice of it.  

For once...

Post script: On the wall of my study is the inspiring text "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me".   I've always thought Paul should have included the words "God requires me to do" after the word 'things'.  That poses the question, why would He ever 'require' me to indulge in anything so physically demanding as Keighley Parkrun?
God only knows...

Not much good, mostly bad and ugly......

I don't think I've stopped running, permanently, though my body is currently telling me I ought.  That persistent cold and raucous cough, coupled with rampant IBS,  have taken their toll to the point where I'm somewhat drained of energy.  But it will pass.  Hopefully.

My healthy diet?   (Click to enlarge)

My red, runny nose has been glued to a computer searching for exercises and diet that might relieve symptoms of abdominal pain and rumblings.  Salad leaves from Italy, peppers and celery from Spain, prawns from Nicaragua and wine from Chile, amongst other things, interspersed with Yoga exercises (some of which give me cramp and I've yet to master the Boat Pose) have made for some quite unusual days.  Vick and Beconase have been forced up nasal cavities to  attack and eject any nasties lurking there - and to enable me to breathe sufficiently to stay alive while practicing the aforementioned silly exercises. 
At times (well, twice actually) I've opened downstairs doors in the house to indulge in some Slow Jogging from room to room - until too knackered to carry on.  Slow jogging is not supposed to do that!

Woodpeckers, long-tailed tits and goldfinches on the feeders by the window take not a blind bit of notices of my comings and goings, probably thinking to themselves what strange creatures humans are.
In many cases they could be right!

Against my better judgement I forced myself out for two runs last week over my beloved Castle Hill.  On Tuesday I passed two teenage lads sat up there in the half light before sunrise, which I thought strange. It was half term.  They disappeared quickly as a fire engine came tearing up the hill.  A hoax call?  Maybe.  But it was no hoax four nights later when the fire brigade were called out at 9.30pm to a massive blaze that desecrated the hillside, burning grass, charring trees and destroying gorse bushes.

Much of the vegetation facing the road on the right has vanished
(picture courtesy The Examiner)

I walked up this week to assess the damage.  It's a sorry sight though it doesn't affect the paths where I run, clearly visible in the above picture, but rabbits, foxes, mice, voles and resident birds will all have been ousted from their sheltered habitat.
Such mindless vandalism.

A wild November skyscape over Castle Hill

Years ago there was a beautiful old hotel on the hill where yours truly spent many a happy Sunday lunchtime in an eclectic gathering of hunters, shooters, fishermen, artists and various trades people - before I became a runner.  It was vandalised by its new owners, the Thandi brothers, who, in re-modelling it, thought they could get away with sneakily building a structure bigger than the approved plans.  They failed and were ordered to remove every stone.

Click on the above link for the pub's history.

A final shot along the lane
testing the panorama mode of my new smartphone

Well, that's it.  Time to wash down some Doxylamine with a soporific drink and crawl into bed perchance to dream. 
Hopefully by next week there'll be a little more activity to report.

In the meantime, happy running everyone.

A grave situation......

 A howling gale raged all Tuesday night and into Wednesday.  At some point in the wee small hours I shut the bedroom window because the roar was deafening.  Come 6.30am I was zombified and could easily have stayed in bed.  I got up, made a strong cup of coffee, put on my trail shoes and forced myself out into the semi-darkness.

That angry sky  (Click to enlarge)

Common sense told me to stay low.  I jogged slowly to the sheltered surrounds of a local cemetery and launched into a series of short hill reps among the many intersecting paths between the graves.  Matt, a Personal Trainer, was already there doing his strange backward and sideways runs while waiting for a client.  After ½ hour I'd had enough and decided it was breakfast time.

Keeping low - though thankfully not so low as most here

 On the way out I noticed the name of another friend had been engraved beneath that of her husband and son.  I'd been wondering where she'd got to?  Her son, Robert, died while running over Castle Hill. Rumour spread that it was me for he was bearded and of similar build.  Neighbours were relieved when I returned from my travels a week later. Back from the dead!

Autumn by the Wharfe

 Thursday was a disaster.  I should have stayed indoors and turned up the central heating to sweat out this lingering cold with all its ghastly gunge.    Instead, I huffed and puffed and coughed my way round local fields and woods to return 4 miles later in a state of collapse.  I haven't run/jogged/wobbled since.

Tranquility

So I'm currently resting, thankfully not in the same way as those I ran amongst on Wednesday morning.   My list of friends and relatives reclining in various graveyards seems to have outgrown the ones that are left.
Life can get a bit lonely approaching ninety!

It's all in the genes......

I got my nose pushed out a bit last week.  With four runs amounting to 18½ miles, and 1,750 ft of ascent, I thought I'd done rather well.  But this was somewhat eclipsed by an amazing grandson, Ashley Walker, who roughly doubled those figures in the space of 6 hours 10 minutes while running the Rat Race Ultra Tour of Edinburgh on Sunday.

Bring it on   (Click pictures to enlarge)

Having not run at all in four months since finishing 20th in the Hadrian's Wall race last June it occurred to him last week that he really ought to do some training.  So he went out and ran 5 miles.  And that was it.   Of 413 entries he finished in (I think) 38th place.  They breed 'em tough in Yorkshire!

Yorkshire's two tallest buildings?

So, whatever 86 year old granddad did last week amounts to very little compared to what Ashley achieved. Nevertheless, I'll post a few autumn photographs for posterity. 

Got there eventually - my track round Castle Hill

On Wednesday I was up and running before sunrise and treated to spectacular skyscapes beyond the masts.

Looking across the valley to West Nab

On Thursday I was running through local woods, searching for deer, so the sun was well into the sky by the time I emerged onto Castle Hill. It was clear and the views were truly amazing.

Setting off across fields to Grassington on Saturday

Saturday was another crisp, autumn day and in spite of a raucous cough I couldn't wait to get out running.  Strangely, I hardly coughed at all once I got out the house.  Fresh air is good for you..

Changing colours at Linton Falls

So as not to exacerbate things I reduced my run to 4 miles and lingered at various places to admire and photograph the rampant autumn tints.

St Michael and All Angels Church in its peaceful setting

I love the view across the River Wharfe to the Church beyond, a beautiful pastoral scene where a family group were picnicking in the warm sunshine.

Escaping the crowds

I left the river to take a quieter field path back home - for reasons I wont go into!  Meanwhile my wonderful partner was spending the whole day attending a First Aid course at Linton in connection with her National Park Ranger duties.  She was indoors for 9½ hours.

By Hebden Suspension bridge

We got out together on Sunday but not where we'd intended to go.  We'd driven to Grimwith for a run round the reservoir but discovered the entry road was closed and will be for several weeks. We returned to Hebden and set off to run the Appletreewick circular.

Running back from Appletreewick

It was misty, there was little or no sunshine and an odd spot of rain somehow found its way onto my camera lens.  Otherwise, it was cool and ideal for running. And we were not alone....

Approaching Burnsall

Another runner wearing an expensive Salomon backpack somehow managed to sneak onto a photograph approaching Burnsall.

Brief rest by the Wharfe

It was a beautiful run and we felt glad of the circumstances that ruled out Grimwith.  The autumn tints along the riverbank were a feast for the eyes.  The mainly treeless circuit of Grimwith wouldn't have compared.

Speeding past the Red Lion in Burnsall

We were running well, TomTom proclaiming it was my fastest ever run round that circuit.  Maybe it was that Salomon guy that pulled us along?

Back to the Suspension Bridge

It was drizzling a little harder as we passed Loup Scar but we didn't care.  We were into the last mile, heading for home, coffee and hot porridge.

Unhappy heron

Autumn chestnuts were losing their leaves by the Suspension Bridge and a heron hunched on a rock midstream didn't look too happy.  Normally they fly away at our approach but this one took no notice of us.

Flying Finish

And that little run rounded off the week very nicely indeed. We shut out the rain, stoked up the stove and settled down to a lazy Sunday afternoon while tracking Ashley through Edinburgh, out to the Pentlands and back, to his exuberant finish at the Royal Commonwealth Pool.
And I thought that deserved a rather large dram!  Cheers Ash!

Seasons of mist......

I'll admit, I was a lazy so-and-so last week, only getting out running twice instead of my usual four times. But I suspect that would be more than a good 95% of my vintage.  If not more.

Love that quote...

There'd been some good dry weather during the week enabling a local farmer to get a third cut from his meadows that should keep his cattle well fed over the winter.

Hay-time in October?  (Click to enlarge pictures)

However, I'm very much a fine weather person nowadays.  Last weekend was pretty diabolical in the Dales with continuous rain all day Saturday and up till tea-time on Sunday.  My wonderful partner was on National Park duty over Barden Moor and came home soaked.  I never went out the door.

Misty morning  

Fortunately, in the season of mist and mellow fruitfulness. I'd enjoyed some glorious sunshine during the week that even inspired a spell of gardening, that necessary evil!

Wednesday's misty sunrise

Another fantastic sunrise on Wednesday was quite breathtaking.  Now that it's rising later I'm meeting more and more people on my morning jaunts, some I've never met before. With their dogs.

New route  -  new people  -  new dogs

A lady had three Staffordshires bull terriers one of which, very friendly,  came bounding across to say hello.  Another chap had two Scottish deerhounds, a noble breed I'm particularly fond of.
And that was it.  Weather permitting I'll be back up to four runs again this coming week.
Anyone care to join me?
PS.  I came across this strange article someone had published in a foreign magazine and managed to translate it into English.
Fame at last!

Week of wind and frost....

TomTom tells me total mileage last week after 4 runs was 16.77 with 1,636ft of ascent.   Considering my sneezes, snuffles and lack of sleep that can't be too bad.  I stayed low on Tuesday due to the cold, horrendous wind buffeting my hilltop cottage and did a few reps round the local cemetery.  Matt, a personal trainer was there, sans client, doing a personal work-out that mainly involved running backwards and sideways between the graves!

Back in my warm den after Tuesday's blustery run 
(Click to enlarge pictures)

The weather quietened down by Thursday but it was a dreich, gloomy sort of morning as I trundled up Castle Hill a little later than usual to find I had brief company in the form of another runner. Then the local poacher with his two whippets.  Then a keen walker from the village who's been walking the same 5 mile circuit round Farnley for so long I'm surprised he hasn't worn a trench.  First words from each of them was "I haven't seen you for a while", and I thought no, that's because you haven't been getting up here early enough.

Setting off to Grassington

 Saturday's run with my wonderful partner was a 4¾ mile circuit to Grassington, Linton Falls and back along the riverbank.

Some of the locals

  With the onset of autumn we had high hopes of enjoying a riot of russet and gold tints, mainly among horse chestnuts lining the River Wharfe.

Linton Falls

After recent deluges the Wharfe was almost bursting it's banks and created a fine spectacle as it cascaded over the rocks at Linton falls, washing the feet of adjacent houses as it roared past.

Houses by Linton falls

"And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on a rock" (Matthew 7:25)

Nevertheless, I'm not sure I'd like to live in any of those properties though I guess they must already have stood the test of time.

Looking up-river to the weirs

We lingered on the bridge for quite some time, fascinated by the noise and torrents of water flowing beneath us, conditions beloved by white water canoeists whom we've seen there in the past. 

Changing colours along the riverbank

 We dragged ourselves away and spurted off towards Hebden for after an earlier 45 mile commute from Almondbury we were getting a little behind time.  Pork pie time, that is.

Pleasant running under the chestnuts.

The autumn tints aren't quite at their best yet, but they're getting there and I've no doubt we'll have many more colourful runs before the leaves fall.

Run wide, run deep...

We were soon back to Hebden Suspension Bridge which I climbed on to for a last shot of the river looking upstream, a view that never fails to impress.

Uphill to warm up

Sunday dawned bright and sunny but bitterly cold, the coldest day of autumn, so far, with a keen white frost glittering the landscape.  We'd a late breakfast then amused ourselves with The I's cryptic crossword until things warmed up a little. 

Still trying to get warm...

 It was 11 o'clock by the time we closed the door and set off running up the ghyll towards Cupola Corner.  We'd planned a six mile route round Yarnbury, Moor Lane and Tinker Lane before dropping back to Hebden.

Is this high enough?

But 'best laid plans of mice and men gang aft awry' according to old Rabby Burns, and they certainly did for us in that freezing wind.

Into the last mile

We decided to cut it short and head for home, as fast as we could, down into the partial shelter of the ghyll, back to a warm stove, the smell of burning peat and some badly needed nourishment.

How many calories are there in a pork pie?