Holiday running

I had ninety minutes to run today - on holiday just outside Hay on Wye.  Ninety minutes for a lollop across new countryside armed with a map in a waterproof case, my OMM jacket and an eye on the scudding clouds. I needed all of those things within ten minutes of setting out as a filthy black cloud tore into view and enveloped me in a wild drenching storm.  I climbed up the lane by our holiday cabin through trees and leaves bearing the mark of the season - glowing light green and yellow with the road a carpet of fallen leaves. Irritatingly I lost my way the moment I left the road, as the path was marked by a post that was on the ground with no indication that it was in the right field let alone pointing in the right direction.
I finally worked out the way, only to enter a field full of a dangerous combination of chest-high bracken and brambles that knitted the whole layer together.  Ten minutes later and I had scarcely moved forward, so I decided that the best thing was to enter some woods and try to find another path.  I carefully eased my way over a barbed wire fence and into a remote and green world that sloped steeply down to a racing stream.  The only way across it was to walk, Bear Grylls style, along a fallen tree trunk that straddled the stream, so I inched along rather feeling as if I was in a documentary about some idiot who has decided to run across Borneo or some such place.  Over the stream, up a slippery slope and into a field - freedom!
Some poor path signage finally led me to Offa's Dyke which at least had the benefit of being well way-marked, down to the River Wye, and along the bank to Hay.  Resisting the urge to make crappy jokes about making hay while the sun shines, I squelched back to our lovely cedar cabin accommodation.

A crappy run, or an adventure?  My legs seethed with nettle stings and the map case needed a wash.  However, I had got outside when I suspect most of the country were holed up by their log burners; I saw some buzzards at close quarters; but the strongest echo in my mind is the ferns in the wood - stately shuttlecocks that provide a warm green against the backdrop of mud and sticks.  Their rotational symmetry gave order in chaos - a geometric shape sat among mud.  They were beautiful, and worth the soiled socks to go to see.

Headtorch running

After a long period of inactivity caused by my foot deciding that it needed a rest, I have been popping out for a canter in the evening.  A headtorch is needed now that the Autumn has well and truly displaced the Summer - I have a very nice Silva one that seems to run for ages even when the batteries are low and a small Petzl in my pocket as a backup.
Anyway, I went out last week for an hour or so in Ashton Court, looping across the fields and alongside the deer enclosure.  There is an odd isolated feeling of running in dark that is accentuated when running in a place that is usually quite busy in the day; it seems as if you are in a silent alternative reality - same place, different light, animals instead of humans.  The moon shone through the dampness and my torch picked out features that were insignificant in the day .  Grasses were given haloes that made them resemble lamp posts and tiny shreds of foil from dropped sweet wrappers glowed like pin-prick lamps.  I was startled by something that shone up at me from the ground and when I picked it up I was surprised to find a Nike tick - presumably it had peeled off a running shoe or jacket.  Testament to the value of reflective elements on sports clothing.
I ran alongside the deer park and climbed steadily toward Clarken Combe.  The mist and darkness conspired to close in on me in a welcoming shroud so that my world shrunk down to the ten foot circle around me.  I was lolloping quite gently, scarcely out of breath, and enjoying the movement of my body.
My torch picked out a pair of eyes in the undergrowth, just through the railings of the fence, and I found myself a few feet from a couple of deer.  For some reason they were either unaware or unconcerned about my presence.  I was shining a bright light in their direction and not more than six feet away but they continued grazing around the edges of a fallen tree trunk.  One had a good set of antlers and up behind us in the woods a crashing indicated battles for supremacy were taking place.
After a good couple of minutes I drifted off and continued my run - a memorable encounter that suffused the run.  I regretted not taking my phone as I could have taken some pictures - maybe next time.