The Madness of the Long Distance Runner

So off we went to Shropshire for the last week of the holidays, to spend some quality time with my mother and various family members. We are lucky that she lives in one of the most beautiful places in England, Church Stretton, and is surrounded by hills, the Long Mynd at the front, and Caer Caradoc at the back. Lovely walking country, not so hot for running, as the hills are well, STEEP. I once had a very unlovely experience doing a 5 mile run over the Long Mynd, so I have learnt the hard way, running up there needs careful planning.

My wonderful twin sister, Julia, was up with her family, so we had an early morning date with the Cardingmill Valley, opposite my mother's house. Given the general steepness of the hills, I have learnt to be canny about my runs here. I only run on the road bits to avoid death defying sheep paths, and get a great down hill ending through the valley. But the valley run is a bit short, so I added a detour through town. Consequently we found ourselves puffing up a very steep road trying to find the path down, which I had conveniently forgotten was quite so high up. Ah but it was good for our cardiovascular systems, we hope. Coming down the path was easier and we had a nice jaunty run across a stream up to the car park and back down the hill. Runners World has a regular feature called "Rave Run" and this down hill stretch is my particular rave. The hills rise steeply on either side, the sheep meander across the path, the stream weaves in and out, ahead you can see down the valley and to the beauties of the hills across the way. The heather, gorse and bracken ensure the picture changes throughout the year, and whatever time of year I do it, the scenery never fails to inspire. As we got to the bottom of the valley, the sun was baking hot, even at 8.30, so I slowed down to avoid going into lack of sugar meltdown. Jules, however, being a competitive soul took off like the clappers. I had no inclination to join her till the very last minute when I gave a huge spurt and nearly (but not quite) caught her....... Oh well another day. We ran for 30 minutes, less than I had planned, but given the state of those hills, it was probably worth 45 minutes cardiovascularly speaking.

We had a busy time in Shropshire, so I didn't get out running again till Thursday. I wanted to run for 75 minutes without going up too many hills and along too many main roads. So I had a look at the map, and decided my best bet was to run round a hill behind my mother's house (Caer Caradoc). I was pretty sure that I had managed to walk this route before without going uphill too much and it gave me the necessary length and beauty.

Not wanting to put my mother out for too long, I headed out at about 9 o'clock. "I'll be back at about 10.15", I said cheerily. Yeah, right. The thing is that although I used to do long walks round there regularly in life BC (Before Children), it's not something that I have done for a while. I had forgotten how easy it is to miss an intended path. The first bit was fine as Beth and I had walked up Caradoc a couple of days earlier. Once at the foot of the hill, a lovely path trails round to the side, a bit steeper than I thought it would be, but still manageable, and it was nice to pass the tiny footpath that climbs sharply up to the top and know I wouldn't be doing that again. The sun was shining, the sheep were grazing, the sky was blue and the hills ahead and behind glowing green. The path turned right, which accorded with my memory, you have to go a bit of the way round the hill before you join the path going down. So I wasn't too worried until the path went steeply down and then hit a field. One path went right, and a narrow footpath went left. I had been running half an hour so I could have (should have) turned back and finished the rest of the run and been back for breakfast. But the madness of the long distance runner set in. Back was boring, I seemed to remember that we'd been caught like this on a walk before, going right took us miles out of our way. I was better off on the footpath going left as it kept me on Caradoc's lower slopes....


So I set off across the field, lost the path quite quickly, finding myself no longer running, but scrambling through the bracken surrounded by bemused sheep and jumping over rabbit and sheep droppings. Oops, so that was wrong then. I headed back down hill, my feet and ankles complaining like mad (they really really don't like the steep hills) and at the entrance of the field I found the path going up. I could have gone back, I should have gone back, but the madness possessed me now, and I wanted to see if over the rise I could get to the bottom of Caradoc. And it seemed to me that I could, it was flattish on top and I could see a stile at the end of the field which was near a footpath going to the end of the hill. Enthusiastically, I set off and although I hate hill running, (because it is steep, you rarely run and you are in constant danger of falling off), the path I joined there was wonderful. Caradoc sloped up to my left, gentle hills and the plain to Birmingham to my right, little Caradoc ahead of me. I was the only person there, and the path was wide, so I was able to run free. At the end of the field, the path I was on sloped right away from Caradoc, and away from home, a small sheep path headed left. I wasn't sure which to take, but figured, left would take me home and I would see the path down to the road any time soon. Except ... I didn't. Someday I will work out why, but the path I was on went steeply up, and the hill began to slope alarmingly steeply to my right. I tucked my water bottle into my purse belt to give me balance and gingerly walked along this very unsettling tightrope for what seemed like an age. All the time I was looking down for the path downwards, but couldn't see it. I looked at my watch, I had been on my feet nearly an hour and was going ever upwards, with no sign of an escape from the hill. I hadn't climbed Caradoc for 10 years, and now I was doing it twice in a week.


Just as I was beginning to despair I looked ahead of me and realised that somehow I had managed to come round the other side of the hill and was now facing towards All Stretton, the next village along from my mother's. I could also see a path several hundred feet below, (in fact this was the path I had intended to meet the other side of the hill). The sloped looked too steep to walk down, so I abandoned all dignity and slid down on my bottom. I ended up in a huge forest of bracken, which I hoped fervently were not full of ticks or snakes, and then blessed relief, I was on the path and able to run again. The next ten minutes were a bit of an obstacle course, my path led me to a footpath down through two fields, dodging tree roots. Then I had to climb a gate and run down to a stile, dice with death on the A49, over another stile, across another field, another stile, the railway line to Shrewsbury, till a final stile brought me to a simple single path. I was so relieved to be off the hill, on a normal path, and nearly home that I belted along, even though it was baking hot and I was desperate for breakfast. As I reached the last half mile to home, I was overtaken by a cheery man on a bicyle,"Been far?" he asked - you could say that. 75 minutes? Well I ran for 75 minutes, but the entire adventure had taken me about 100. I am sure that it did me some good, somewhere....

Whilst I was running, I thought a lot about the bloody history of the border country with Wales. In Roman times, the ancient Britons hid in these hills, in medieval times, the Welsh hid from the English. We are so fortunate that we live in a country where our ethnic differences no longer lead to violent wars. I am constantly grateful for the many opportunities I have to enjoy beauty in peace, and the need for us to support peacemakers abroad.

I arrived back in Oxford to receive my running number and my racing chip (which will help tell my running time). So it's official, I am on track for the 16th September, and it is just over a week away. My feet are pretty sore, but I am hoping to fit in a couple more training sessions before the big day. I'm looking forward to it.