I’m sitting on the bed, propping my legs up on pillows in the vain hope that that will help them recover faster. To be fair it’s a wonder that I can walk at all given what I’ve put them through this morning.
On this anniversary of Shakespeare’s birth and death day ( I wonder how many people actually do die on their birthdays?) I decided that I hadn’t had enough hills last week in the Calder Vale 10 miler. I decided I wanted to triple the climb and run a few miles further.
Actually, I didn’t decide any of those things, but when Jeff posted on our club page, that he was running the route of the Excalibur Half Marathon, and wondered if anybody wanted to join him, I stupidly said yes.
I was planning to go around 13 miles this weekend anyway, in my (making it up as I go along) training plan so it seemed like a good idea. I knew it would be a bit hilly, but I hadn’t really looked at the route before I volunteered. The final hill was Moel Famau which is about 1820 ft high.
My stats have been borrowed from Jeff as my Runkeeper app threw a wobbler. Granted it looks like almost walking pace but that could only be achieved with some running thrown in, and I did do a fair bit of running, albeit steadily.
We were in two groups, as Becky, who drove us down, and Mark, set off at a faster pace with two other guys who had met us there. They’re all good runners and I was glad not to hold them back. Jeff, who knows these hills like the back of his hands (although we did go off track for just a hundred yards or so) was happy to do a little light coaching for me and have time on his feet.
It was a lovely, although slightly hardcore, introduction to fell running, and I really appreciated Jeff taking the time to patiently run with me, and give me a few pointers. I didn’t have a rucksack, but learned that it’s pretty essential kit, to hold your food and water, and the layers that you may take off and put on again over the course of a run. Today it remained dry, but the sunshine we had on the Wirral didn’t quite appear on the Welsh hills, and the easterly winds, as we rose higher, nearly took my legs out once or twice. Jeff carried a spare waterproof jacket for me, as well as a whistle, map, and compass, even though he knew where he was going. He also had some solid nut and choc bars, which I normally wouldn’t have while running. But on a steep uphill that I could barely walk up, I scoffed one of them down happily.
For every up, there were downs, and some of them were grassy strips of heaven where I felt like a gambolling goat. I did my best Phoebe (from Friends) impression, flailing my arms around wildly, feeling the exhilaration of the descent. Some stretches, however, were so steep, it was all I could do to stay upright and keep from falling. By the end of them my calves were burning and I was longing for an uphill again!
All in all it was a pretty amazing, and knackering Saturday adventure, and I think that I’d like to do it all again. Not yet, but perhaps in a couple of months, just to see how my fitness levels compare, and take in the same terrain in summer. I’ll have to see if Jeff’s available.
4 thoughts on “Running up that hill”
Nice write up. Captured the day well, although you’re a bit hard on yourself. You did well, kept us in good spirits the whole time, and we completed it in a respectable time too.
Well, it was a shock to the system but I was proud of myself once it was completed. Terrific day, thank you
A great read, Rita, thanks! 😍