Yesterday morning, inspired by hilbean's beautiful post, about her morning run, I determined to stick to my plan and run without music, podcasts or Laura.
Not easy. As those of you who know me, also know, I am a tad reliant on someone murmuring gently in my ear, urging me on and encouraging me.
So, caution to the wind and out I went.
Not too early a start, as I had spent rather too long reading and replying to people's posts. I read a lot last evening too, hence my post not being written until today!
The day was dry with no wind; the sky, a smooth, grey slate, wiped clean of white-chalk clouds or the brilliance of a yellow sun. But, no sign of rain, or the chill of previous mornings, no ice underfoot and a calmness in the air.
I completed a five minute warm up walk, and started to jog down the hill to the station. The last High School stragglers, making their noisy, if reluctant way to the village. Great sense of satisfaction swept over me, as I recalled, when I started Couch to 5K, even the smallest High School child , walked faster than I jogged. Not any more though, Newbies..take note
The lane was quiet as I jogged steadily up the hill towards the fields, past Rookery Wood, I feel as if I know it, and the feathered inhabitants intimately; all quiet except for the soft fluttering of the nesting birds, high in the trees topmost branches. My pace was steady and of a reasonable speed. I tried to remember and use, all I have learnt so far, relaxed shoulders, tight core, light steps, cycle motion when lifting the feet. It does come naturally mainly, but as you get tired, it is helpful to remember what to do to ease the ache or the lack of breath.
Across the potholed track to the field. not frozen any more, but still relatively firm underfoot. The huge, majestic tree in front to me, standing etched black against the dull sky. Silent and proud , as I negotiated the hummocks and clumps of earth on the field track. The hedgerows have all been trimmed, now with scrubbing brush tops, and the heavy imprint of huge tyres either side of the track way, making the running harder. It is much harder running on fields and tracks I find and trying to keep my feet out of the deep ridges of the tyres' imprints was difficult.
I had to slow my pace down, and was rather glad, that I was a solitary runner in the open countryside, with no one to see my stumbling progress
.
Turning off the track and down the first field to the brook, I upped my pace for five minutes, and then at the bottom, turned back and tried to maintain the speed going back up the hill. Hard going, but I was determined to challenge myself and push a little harder. Relaxing my shoulders and trying for those smooth easy breaths..it is hard, but I am getting there, up and along the track and over the steam railway line to the far field.
Pleasant running here, flattish, firm and great views, right across to the distant hills.
Instead of carrying along to the far gate, I turned and headed up the field towards a small copse of trees where there is a large pond. I used to take my girls there, when they were small, to pond dip, and we would sit on the bank, munching sandwiches, watching for voles, and laughing at the antics of the moor-hens dabbling and dipping in and out of the reeds. Sweet memories, yet tinged with a deep sadness, for one of those girls, who is lost to me now, living another life, in which I have no part.
Not dwelling on those thoughts, I headed up to the trees; at one time, the pond was neglected and abandoned and the local youth, bored with the absence of any kind of exciting night-life, filled it with cans and rubbish, The effort of getting to the pond clearly outweighed the delights of scaring the wild life and they passed on to pastures new. The farmer cleared the pond of all the garbage and the wildlife, ever resourceful returned once more.
I had run for about thirty minutes, varying the pace avoiding pitfalls and muddy clumps and testing myself with uphill detours, so, I did not feel too much of a cheat taking a breather. I gently pushed through the low little bushes and into the inner circle of trees bordering the pond. The thick, heavy scent of the wood, and wet reeds filled my nostrils, what would it be like now?
Like a step taken back in time...shadowy and dark, no sunlight filtering through the winter branches. No moor-hens and no movement on the silent water. Small bushes and branches trailing into the water's edge, all clear, wonderful nature, secluded and secretive. I almost heaved a sigh of relief, as I stood, lost for a short while in the past. Quite, quite suddenly, a feeling crept over me, of the loneliness of the place, on this grey morning, whether it was of my own making or echoes of unknown sorrows, I can't be sure. I know only, that I shivered, and needed to make my way back out into the field.
Back into the open, a big breath of clean, fresh air and a run down to the track way again; easy quick steps. light and fast, as Laura has taught us. Then back towards the steam railway crossing and finished a different way..uphill again, for a final five minute burst. I won't lie, I was out of breath. Enough testing I thought..for one day!
I squeezed through the gap in the top hedge then jogged at a fair pace down the hill again towards the railway station. All through my run..I was counting a, one, two, three, four beat, sometimes slower, sometimes faster. I think it is so embedded into my brain, but it helps. It is much, much easier to jog, lightly and quickly. when you are travelling downhill. We all say it, but who would think there were so many inclines and uphill where we live?
As I ran down towards the main road, I felt extremely satisfied with my first real run alone. I am running quite well I think, and am not travelling too slowly, so progress is being made. I am not sure why I decided to revisit the dipping pond, but I did... maybe a mistake; I will go back, but it will be in the Spring, when the leaves are a light lemony green and the sunshine flickers on the clear water. playing shimmering hide and seek with the moor-hens and the voles. I will run there again, with my sandwiches, and I will sit on the bank and I will smile.
