It appears to be my turn to suffer injury woes: no running for over a week now as my back has gone all militant on me. It is a long-term problem, initially caused by repeated injuries while sheep farming, particularly shearing which is specifically designed to simultaneously remove a fleece and the health of your back with maximum efficiency. I now have discs that pop in and out like those little people in a cuckoo clock. I can't even blame running as this particular episode was triggered by falling over a footstool while trying to navigate my way through the dogs sprawled out across the floor; they say, 'Let sleeping dogs lie'... yeah, right...I'll give that one a miss next time. The pain is, as usual, annoying...down to my knee and radiating out through my backside. Been there before, got several ( tear stained) t-shirts so I know it will go away, eventually, as long as I keep doing the exercises that have kept me mobile all these years. As you can see from one picture, Jethro likes to help me when I am doing my back extensions: I am not sure how he thinks plonking his eight and a half stones on me helps exactly.
Anyway, the pain is beginning to centralise again- which is the good sign I am looking for-and I know from experience that keeping moving is the key thing, especially walking which has a really positive effect. So, I thought that Jethro, Lucy and I would check out how some of the paths I hope to run are drying out, at least the ones a bit away from my normal route and especially ones I can extend for longer runs once the Narnia Winter takes its leave.
The bit around Wem Moss was as wet as usual but once I crossed into Wales it was better ( I hope that isn't an omen for Saturday's rugby).
The towpath on the Llangollen Canal is particularly good, a place of perfect peace: no surprise that we pass a Buddhist retreat centre then. Boat traffic must have been light recently and the water was clearer than I have ever seen it. I have to watch Jethro as he loves to swim and takes any opportunity to go in: today he decided that a trio of peaceful Mallard were actually plotting to kill me and gave them the full roaring growl routine while preparing to leap in and capture them. He shut up and reverted to sulky when I told him he wasn't going swimming. There are a few people that live here permanently in boats, moving them as required by their permits; several of them recognise the dogs and come for a chat. I sort of envy their way of life. The canal bisects a couple of thousand acres of ancient Moss and there is always something new to see. I noticed that the birds have suddenly put on their very best, Spring 'Out on the Town' finery: the male Reed Buntings' drab winter heads are now shining bible black with that vivid white slash that looks like some Musketeer's sword wound. Male Yellowhammers are flashing golden baubles in the hedges while the Buzzards are now forming their little flying circuses above. Most magical of all are the huge flocks of mixed finches that suddenly descend, bickering and chattering like children at school playtime, before melting away again to leave just their echo.
Fenns Moss was as deserted as ever... but a Merlin streaked past us, worth the walk on its own...what a beautiful creature. Alas, the 'special bird' seems to have gone back home as I haven't seen it since Christmas. I love the utter silence of this place: hard to imagine that it was once the home and workplace of many families, scraping a living cutting the black peat by hand. Some of the old workings have been left and I shudder to think how hard it must have been to work in those freezing, wet holes all your life. There are now easily walked paths right across the Moss making it safe and easy for man and dog while the wildlife is left in peace. In the warmer months I am more than happy to leave the Adders in peace and let them keep themselves to themselves! In fact, I don't tend to take the dogs on there in Summer and keep them on their leads pretty much everywhere.
The thing I wanted to explore was the old Oswestry, Ellesmere and Whitchurch railway line, long abandoned, but now open for several miles to walkers and riders. Even though I've known it for years I'd never been on it since it has been opened up as a trail. What a perfect running track! ..especially for a retired, out-of-steam old chuffer like me. I walked back down it to Bettisfield and was then only one mile from home..the only bit on a road, even then a rural lane. But, rural lanes around here double as race tracks for many, an observation that proves either the driving is dangerously irresponsible or I'm a curmudgeonly old fart..answers on a postcard please.
We only covered something over seven miles but I reckon I can get anywhere up to fifteen miles in a level, quiet and picturesque circular route...possibly more.
(Note, FLICKM3, a place with no hills awaits you and your mate on the Badedas ''oss). There is of course the small issue that I can currently only run 8 k ...but, hope springs a leak, or whatever.
So, back on my belly now to grind out the reps again: I hope to be back running in a few days, little Swiss clock people and sleeping Russian Blacks permitting.
Clash of the kids and running!
On the go map - route planning tool
Slow and Steady (with the running fairies)
In praise of our furry, canine friends...🐕🐩👍
Hit the ground…no running!
