A recent post, on the Marathon and Half Marathon forum, by Irishprincess triggered this post...Her post was very much about how we as runners are aware or unaware of those folk around us, how they impact on us and how we may, impact on them. I replied to her, as I had been thinking of similar things for a while, and had an experience which got me thinking.
Initially, I felt that what happened to me was just a simple, natural reaction, but as the days have gone on, the whole thing has stayed with me and really got me thinking.
So... here is my account of the weird experience which I referred to in the last Quest post. A tale for a wet winter's afternoon.
The Tunnel
A week or so back, I ran.
A short and sweet run, one of the Bridge to 10K runs, to be taken in the glorious Derbyshire Dales. The air clear and dry, sunshine and huge white clouds. Perfect.
Husband and I headed for Middleton Top, parked up and as he locked the car, I set off running. I would run out for a few kilometers, he would walk and then I would run back and pass him, walking towards me en-route.
Off I set; a few folk around, dog walkers and hikers. A couple sitting and sharing lunch, sheep grazing, a tractor in the fields below, the distant throb of lorries trundling on their journey from quarry to depot, bird song and peace.
The first lap was in pure sunshine, as I moved away from Middleton Top, the tall chimney and the long-parked, tender in a siding. Feet landing lightly, breath coming easily, heels rounded, and shoulders relaxed. Looking around, exchanging a greeting to any passer-by and onwards away into the distance. A good day to be running. After a while, I was alone, running well, looking around and simply enjoying. I came to a cross-track and wooden gates, gates that had appeared since our last visit pre- pandemic. Startled suddenly, by another runner coming around the corner, I opened the far gate and through. Here, there was no one, behind or in front of me, and gradually the wider path narrowed slightly, straggly trees closing in a little, but still glorious blue sky and sunshine.
Breathing a little harder now, as the air was chilly, I was making steady progress, soon to be nearing a point of turning around and heading back to meet with Mr. OF. As I rounded a corner, my view changed... trees gave way to a huge stone-walled, moss and creeper- covered trail edge...the huge stone blocks, building up, and up, until it seemed, I was running hemmed in, on both sides, by sky-blocking stone, towards a tunnel.
I felt my heart skip a beat and stopped for a second or two. The tunnel in front of me, although not overly long, seemed to stretch almost endlessly, towards a small spot of light in the distance. I listened. No sound except from within the tunnel... soft drippings and the sounds of small, loose stones falling from the tunnel roof and sides.
I was suddenly, very aware, that I was out of sight or earshot of anyone, and I almost turned back; but, I'm a runner, I had another .5K at least to go, so, in I went.
Immediately the chill, the damp, malodorous atmosphere and...the dark. After the bright sunlight, I shivered, and again, almost turned. The tunnel, as I squinted against the darkness, had the usual refuge insets every 100m or so... and I was unable to see into even the first one. Here, unbidden, my vivid imagination took over; what if... what if there was someone in one of the refuges, what if they grabbed me as I ran past, who would see or hear... my heart was thumping, when I spotted, quite suddenly in the far, far distance in the sunlight at the end of the tunnel... a person.
Well, if they were there, and with the echoes in the tunnel, if I screamed or hit my wrist alarm they would hear and come to my aid. So, I ran... towards the sunlight at the end of the tunnel, I ran, but with no confidence and with no style, I simply wanted to get through. I ran in the dead centre of the tunnel. Not looking to the left or the right, ignoring the drips, the strange scrabbling noises, the uneven, wet, slippery ground beneath my shoes, and ignoring what seemed to be a low whistling sound, just running to get through; until suddenly I was out and running towards the sunshine and onto the far trail. I looked in vain for the person I had seen, but they had gone.
My watch pipped as I ran and I knew I had to turn. I had to go back the way I had come and I felt nervous.
Mr. OF would be walking and watching for me, I had run the tunnel once and I could do it again, of course I could... Running slowly back towards the entrance I took deep breaths and filled my lungs, with what I hoped was enough air to run as quickly as I could. I ran out of the sunshine and once more into the dark. The clammy air touched my face, the warmth of the winter sunshine drained from my body into the ground and I was cold. There is a phrase. Chilled to the marrow and it was instant.
But, there was nothing else for it, I had to go on and I ran; trying to block the trickling sounds, the scrabbling and the scuffling, the whistling, which seemed louder, (wind no doubt through ancient brickwork) , but rationale had no place in my brain right now. I ran and ran, and ran and I was unaware how quickly, until with a final burst of unexpected energy, I exploded out, between the threatening stone walls, rounding the corner and back into the blessed warmth. I had no breath left and was aware that certainly, for the last bit of the tunnel, I had been holding my breath.
I did not stop, I simply slowed my pace, moving forward and and counted as I have always done, 1,2,3,4 until I regained my breath and recovered. It was as if I was in another world, the trees, the track, the fields and the distant hills. Blue sky and white cloud, a walker coming through the far gate, a pleasant exchange, through the gate and on...halted by a shout from behind, I turned and Mr. OF having walked another section of the path was coming towards me...just a quick exchange, and I finished the run and headed back towards my husband.
I recounted my adventures, to him, and resolved never to run through that section unaccompanied, again.
I have, over the last few days, researched the tunnel's history, and no sinister events are recorded as having happened, under its shadowy depths . But...
In 1937, there was an accident... on the Incline just beyond the tunnel, a train derailed and there was one fatality.
I have gone over the run in my head, many many times since I found this out.
Was I, senses heightened, by some recent events and female runners, over-thinking. Was it, as ever, my ridiculously over- active, imaginative mind, was I just being irrational and silly... or was there, is there, could there be, something more?
Floss x
P.S.
I have always been a tad unnerved by tunnels. As a child, train tunnels, canal tunnels and tunnels under roads, on trails or paths, were not my favourite places. That nervousness has stayed with me.
On my beloved fields where I love to run, there is, as I cross the small track belonging to the small Heritage steam railway at the top of the fields, a tunnel. I do not have to run through it, I merely glance at it as I cross the track. In all the years I have lived in the area, I have never gone through it. It is on an unused part of the railway and nothing goes through it. It is dark, shadowy and secretive. It may keep those secrets.
I have always, also, had a vivid imagination. It fires my writing and my painting. Since I began to run, I have added fuel to that fire, by absorbing the sights and sounds around me... I run and I ramble as my friends on here are well aware . I love reading, devouring books from an early age , living and breathing the stories, tucking them away in the memory. One such story, The Signalman by Charles Dickens. It terrified me as a child, haunting my dreams and my waking hours and when years later I watched a televised version, those fears, resurrected, terrified me afresh! I started to watch it again this afternoon. I turned it off.
x
A slippy, slidey trail run! 🏃🏽♀️😬🏃🏽♀️
3K and I Jeffed it ☀️🏃♀️👍
A Wonderful Day for a Run, But Here’s the Deal
