Sunday 28 April 2013

Just me

I am sat in the kitchen wearing my wife's glasses because I am too lazy to find my own - very fetching they are with the little filigree bits on the side.  Using media technology often feels very solitary - people hunched over their device seemingly unable to communicate with the person sat next to them.  We know that everyone is talking to everyone else on the internet but there is no visual evidence of this.

I made good use of my Saturday run yesterday by leaving early and driving to the Brecons; it seemed a good idea to recce a bit of the ultra I am running in in two weeks time and get a blast of fresh air at the same time.  I parked at Pontsticill reservior north of Merthyr Tydfil and after an age of faffing finally hit the moorland.  I hadn't noticed the three empty car parks and so stuck the car on the approach to a fire track; I chuckled to myself when I got back to find the previously empty spaces jammed with cars.

Up a track then a bit of navigating where there was no path to join a thin track that threaded its way toward the dramatic peaks of Pen y Fan and Cribyn.  The higher I went the windier it got until I was forced to put my waterproof on.  It was still quite early and not a soul was to be seen.  I had the whole fells to myself and enjoyed the unpressured feeling of the only interaction taking place being between me and the ground.  As I reached the ridge that eventually rears up to Pen y Fan I saw a tent hugging the ground adjacent to a trig point, and some figures in the distance.  There were some rather tired looking soldiers running down the hill - I guess the tent was a checkpoint for a training event for them.  There were also a few groups of walkers, unsurprising as this is quite a popular area for walkers even early in the morning.

The wind increased until I was having trouble running in a straight line.  I was however having better luck than the walkers I went past; they looked frozen, but my movement kept the blood rolling around nicely.  Up onto Pen y Fan and Cribyn where ice had been driven onto just one side of the peak, and I stood bemused as the wind blew ice particles up into the sky and then rained them down like space junk.  There were quite a few people up there as there always is, some wearing quite inappropriate clothing that grated with my very careful packing of survival bag and compass.  


There were a number of walkers enjoying the scenery on their own, and I reflected that the terrain seems to encourage solo activity.  There was me running on my own, partially because no-one else would want to get up so early on a Saturday morning but also because I like running on my own.  I am not pressured by another's pace; I can make my own decisions about the route so it matches my needs exactly; and let's face it, should I fancy a walk then there is no obligation to keep going.  Not a good strategy for training I admit, but I was there for me, not to be pistol-whipped by expectations.  There must be something about outdoors that nurtures the individual: I certainly feel that I have a relationship with the Brecons that is between me and them - a monogamous relationship with no room for putting the keys in the fruit bowl.

Later in the afternoon there was to be the Cribyn fell race - I ran it last year and it is a fabulous race, up Cribyn and down the ridge in the picture.  I was tempted to text Lucien who I knew was running to warn him about the temperature on the top but decided it was for him to find out - not out of meanness but because he is also in a relationship with these hills and it isn't for me to influence that.

I cruised down the track that led all the way back to the car.

You can see where I ran - the pointy peak in the middle is Cribyn, the flatter hill to the left is Pen y Fan, and the rounded peak to the right is Fan y Big.  Just after this photo I walked for quite a while, not because I needed to but because it was a nice day and I wanted to stretch it out.  The sun was pushing through and in the valley it was sheltered causing Chaffinches to bustle around in the warmth.
Back to the car, a good stretch and change into dry socks, and a drive home extended by the need for petrol and overshooting the turnoff for the M4.

No comments:

Post a Comment