'Aint LEDs brilliant!

Those clamped to my forehead in my head torch anyway. Tiny little things. Dead light. Tichy batteries only required. Super, slightly eerie, even, blueish light that hides the slopes, flattens the road, shows up the eyes of animals and your exhaled breath - making you exhale sideways like a shifty spiv grabbing a crafty drag because if you do it straight ahead you can't see anything and your glasses steam up. A truly great invention. Sends ones brain off reminiscing about torches and bike lights of old; Pifco anyone? The cause of many a curse.

And that, my friends, was my thought process for the first half mile last night as I eased my way round the lanes in the dark. It was great. I like the feeling of easing along in your own little bubble of light, being cradled by the darkness, seeing the occasional star peeking through the cloud, and the steam from the local paper factory rising in an incandescent plume, lit from the skylights beneath the chimney.

I learned the vital trick of avoiding the dark patches - they were holes full of water. I muttered to myself as I tried to create a Christmas story for grown-ups for a writing group I'm in (I didn't get very far). But mostly I toiled onwards and upwards as I discovered a super, hillyish route along beautifuly quiet lanes. It was shorter than I imagined; I was only out for about 40 minutes, but it was a great end to a day spent hunched over a keyboard. Next time I'll extend it.

Smiley rating 8.5/10

On shame and Scotchlite

Thanks to Ultracollie and Runningbear I've just had a brilliant run. Their blogs are so full of dawn, or pre-dawn, runs, sparkling PBs, glorious sunrises and all round chipperness that I was ashamed of my inability to (a) get out of bed on these dark mornings and (b) to get out in anything other than perfect conditions.
I'm one of nature's hibernators. Much as I'd love to be reincarnated as a dolphin or some other free spirit, I reckon dormouse would be more likely. So the dawn jobs are going to be a stretch to say the least. Nonetheless, the 'bang a headtorch on and off you go' ethos struck a chord. So I did just that. And I'm incredibly glad. Firstly because I got to pet our neighbour's incredibly cute cocker spaniel puppy (he's called Jarvis - great name), and secondly because I got to enjoy a beautiful moonlit half hour run up the hill and back again.
I hurtled to the bank and back on my bike yesterday, and I could feel it in my legs today. But it mattered not a jot. It was great. Only 5 cars passed me (and two of them were as I approached a layby) so my Scotchlite-adorned running gear came into its own and my way was lit by a great big yellowish moon which looked particularly dramatic with shards of ochre-grey cloud across it.
So thank you, fellow bloggers. You gave me the  metaphorical boot up the gastrocnemus that I needed in these gloomy, S.A.D, times

Smiley rating 9/10

First snow sighting!

Yesterday was a dream winter day. Blue sky (unheard of for weeks here), windless, cold and with a good dusting of snow on the high tops. It looked beautiful. Did I get out in it? Of course not. Too much stuff to do.
But I did get out on Friday when I went for a late afternoon, splashy, plod. Once again this was around the lanes as it is just too sodden to contemplate going on the fields just yet.
I managed a nice, hilly 45 minutes with an average heart rate of 142 (which is 79% of max). It was cloudy, but not actually raining and looked as if it was going to clear up.  It was good to get out; afterwards I felt as if I deserrved a treat, so we went to a brilliant Thai restaurant in Ambleside.  (Our new kitchen is nearly installed, but we can't actually cook in it yet, so we're having to eat out all the time. We're getting to know all the good places locally!)

Smiley rating  6/10

The hills are alive...

...with the sound of groaning.
Just back from a soggy little trot on the hilliest route around the nearby lanes. I figured I would be gone about 50 minutes, so was quite surprised to be back in 35. My pace judgement is way off! Not long after the start of this route you can see a white house high on a hill across the valley. It seems impossibly far away, yet in only a little while you find yourself toiling past it. It's very satisfying. All in all, a very enjoyable, hilly, little outing.

Not as hilly as this though. This is Patagonia. I put it in because we're going trekking here pretty soon! I'm very excited about it. We're also going to Tierra del Fuego, and visit the Beagle channel, named after Darwin's famous ship. The Beagle was captained by Robert Fitzroy and was surveying the S. American coastline.
The weather is notoriously bad. It drove Fitzroy's predecessor mad. He committed suicide. So did Fitzroy, come to that. Hmm, I wonder if Marbella's available...

Smiley rating 9/10

Sunshine at last!

I got out today for a quick run up the lane towards Garnett Bridge and then down to the river and back. Because it was short, I decided tomake it a fartlek session and did all the uphills as quickly as possible. Which hurt.
Still, it was worth it. After what seems an age of grey skies, as I left the sun was shining. True, it was drizzling as well, but the sun shone enough to create a huge semicircular rainbow in front of me. With that and the sheep all fluffy and white it was like running in CBeebies land.
The lane is still running with water from the rain of the last few days. I've been out twice since the major floods of last Thursday, and the water is still pouring off the fells, The lanes are rippling silver curtains of water, with gravel and hedge debris washed into furrows in the centre of the road. On Thursday, when the Kent overflowed its banks, we were virtually cut off. There was only one minor road in and out of where we live and, down the hill, the village was under water. It's not as bad as it is further north in Cockermouth, but that's no consolation to the villagers whose houses were inundated.

Eyeballs out

Went for my first 'night' run of the season a few days a go. I say 'night', it was more tea-time really. But it was dark enough to need a headtorch and I guess that's what counts. I did the trusty river loop, because I didn't want the adventure spoiled by falling into gullies or getting tangled in barbed wire I didn't know was there.

It was great. I actually quite enjoy night running. It's that mixture of scary and interesting all at the same time. I'm learning to have 'soft' feet, if that doesn't sound daft; trying to land gently and respond smoothly to the uncertainties underfoot. Blundered into some brambles though.

It was a gorgeous night, with plumes of breath lit up by the torch beam. I never realised that sheep's eyes light up in the same way as cat's eyes and I was followed by their bluey white ghostly look as I went past.

It's still ankle deep water at the first gate, so one's feet get nicely frozen on the way out and washed on the way back. All in all, a good little jaunt.

Smiley rating 8/10

Running is a triumph of the repetition of an individually insignificant action. Which brings me to knitting. The scarf proceeds apace!

It should be ready by summer.

I invite you...

... to look at this list and tick off those that are familiar to you...

1. Deciding you do need leggings for today's run
2. Deciding you should take gloves because you might need them
3. The feeling of frozen wet toes, from running through 10cm of water cascading across the path, is not unfamiliar
4. Ditto the slithery gait you adopt when running through cow-trod soggy fields
5. Thinking it'll be much better when the ground's frozen a bit
6. Stiles seem unusually slippery
7. You don't remember the air temperature making your lungs ache quite so much
8. You're glad you wore a hat

Yep, it's winter again! All these occurred to me on my little River Loop trot out today. I also ran at dusk; the sun dipped throwing shafts of light, of a lovely silvery-peach colour, from behind a massed bank of cloud, the world was falling quiet and it began to get dark enough for the lights in the houses on the hillside to look warmly inviting. It was wonderful. Mostly because I managed to get round before it chucked it down again.

And now I must go and scan the internet for guidance on how to knit. I went with Mags to this wonderful wool and fabric shop in Clapham (the Yorkshire Dales one) today. Rather than stand around gormlessly while Mags ferreted out fabrics and such like, I engaged the kindly lady who runs it in conversation, the upshot being that I've decided to knit myself a scarf for winter. At the moment I have wool, and needles (which are now made of straight-grain birch, not the grey metal like the ones my Mum used to have) and only the vaguest clue how to waggle them together to produce said scarf. I'll let you know how it goes.

Smiley rating for the run 7.5/10