Hmmmm, it would appear that last week turned out to be a bit damp, or was it just me?
Last week's weather was certainly a bit changeable. Sunday night was so cold at home that we lit the fire for the first time since last winter and my cycle into work was a bit chilly to say the least with a hard frost on the cars when I set off on my bike Monday morning. Wednesday morning at the same time, the thermometer said 15 degrees when I went to work, and since then I don’t think it’s really stopped raining. Despite the rain, I’ve had to get all my shorts back out again, having said on Sunday 'That's it I won’t need these again. Winters here’! The rain isn’t currently stopping play though (although it did make me think about it Saturday morning) and I’ve been out and about all weekend. Saturday was the Mid Sussex Hillier Audax. You’ll note the ‘Hillier’ there, because I could have just done the ‘Hilly’ version, but where would the fun be in that? To that end, I took the van down to the start Friday night, expecting a leisurely drive down and an early night, but oh how wrong could I be. I normally try to avoid traveling too far, so this weekend's fun was at about the limit of my vehicle based travels, and Friday was a reminder of why I try to avoid it. An accident on the M3 caused a delay, followed by the normal slow traffic at the M3/M25 interchange, and then to top it all off, some idiot had managed to to roll their car at the M25/M23 junction closing the motorway! So what should have been under 2 hours actually took 3 and a half, and reminded me that I hate driving at the best of times. 3 hours on the bike in the pouring rain, with the wind in my face, that's bearable. An hour sat in the van with the heating on, a hot brew in my flask and the radio for company? No thanks, I’d rather be out in the rain! Which I suppose in some ways is lucky, because when I woke up on Saturday morning the rain was lashing against the side of the van, and the forecast said it was in for the day. In fact the forecast, and the sound of the rain was enough to make me seriously consider if I was going out to play, or should I just stay in bed? In the end though, sense prevailed, and by the time I made my way down to the start at 08:30, the early heavy rain had petered out to more of a heavy drizzle. Luckily, I wasn’t the only brave soul that was prepared to face the weather, as there was probably a dozen or so other idiots milling around at the start discussing the great British weather by the time I got there, which was somewhat reassuring, in a kind of British eccentricity type of way.
Unfortunately, due to the wet and soggy conditions there’s a shortage of pictures from Saturday's ride, so you're just going to have to believe me when I say ‘ It was wet, humid, and hilly’.
I’ll admit that it didn’t rain all of the time. But when it wasn’t raining, there was still rain in the air. And the one time I did consider taking my jacket off, because it was far too hot to be wearing it, just the thought was enough to make it throw it down again 2 seconds later, as if to say ‘don’t even think about taking that off’! That’s not to say that it wasn’t a good day though. In fact I’d go as far as saying I had a great time out in the rain. There’s something special about taking on the weather and being outside when everyone else is hiding away indoors complaining that it’s too grim to go out. It’s the same as riding into the night. Everyone else is going to bed, but I’m pushing on so I must be winning. There’s that shared camaraderie with the other riders and more often runners (they seem to be hardier than the cyclists), that you get when the weather's grim. We're all in this together, and we're obviously all bonkers, but we’re still out here getting the miles in and that deserves a nod, or raised finger, of mutual respect as you pass each other like ships in the night.
It was a great route too, and one that I’d imagine would be fantastic if the weather was good. With plenty of far reaching views from the hill tops, and numerous beautiful country lanes to occupy your thoughts, there was more than enough going on to make the time pass in a blur. The fact that it was still a treat in the rain, with wet leaves and loose gravel covering every descent and causing the rear wheel to slip as soon as you got out of the saddle on the climbs, pays testament to how good a route it was.
Good route or not, it couldn’t go on forever, and at only 100 Km by early afternoon I was back at the start. I may have had wet feet (in fact my boots were still wet when I put them on to go to work on Monday) but I’d had a great day out, and looking back I really don’t know why I was even considering not starting due to the rain. At the end of the day it’s only a bit of water, and it’s pretty rare that it rains all day, I guess I must just be getting soft in my old age!
Having been in two minds about going out to play on Saturday morning, I was still in two minds about what to do Saturday afternoon. With the rain continuing to fall and no sign of it abating, I had 2 choices. I could either head for home, or find somewhere on the way back to park up for the night with a view to getting in a bit off gentle running on Sunday morning.
A look at the map with a brew and a biscuit for places on the way home, threw up the North Downs Way at Guildford as a good start point. The North Downs Way is on sandy soil there, so as long as the rain abated at some point during the night it shouldn't be too muddy, and it left me close enough to home to not have a long drive on Sunday afternoon. Now, I’m not holding my breath on the running front, but I think things are finally on the mend and I’ve started slowly putting a few miles in again. I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch, and I’m forcing myself to really limit the miles and time on my feet, but I’m hopeful that I may eventually be able to get back some form of proper running, even if it’s nowhere near where I was at the start of the year. Sunday morning dawned clear and bright and pulling on my running shoes after a light breakfast felt familiar and exciting after such a long lay off. (Apart from a few brief miles in June I haven't run properly since the Cerne Giant Marathon back in March!). But those first few steps on the sandy soil with the cold morning air biting at my exposed arms and legs, the birds singing and the sun shining down from a clear blue sky instantly reminded me how much I’ve missed running and especially off road running over the past few months. Plodding gently along the sandy trail, following the North Downs Way signs, watching my foot placement on the rough ground, dodging the puddles and other obstructions on the narrow path and admiring the beauty of the British countryside, I felt like I’d never been away. The depressing days thinking I might never run again, hobbling up and down the stairs, struggling even to ride my bike some days, instantly forgotten as the first mile unfolded under my feet. From the off, the path wound slowly uphill, leg muscles that haven't been called on for months slowly remembered what we were doing, whilst the familiar, but forgotten, feel of my breathing, regular and in time with my footfall, provided a steadying reassurance and a reminder not to push too hard. I didn’t really have a destination in mind when I set off, but I knew that St Marthas Church wasn’t too far away which seemed like a reasonable aiming point, and then I could see how I felt when I got there. What I didn’t expect was to feel like I did when I did get there! Surprisingly it wasn’t as far as I thought it was and within a couple of miles I was cresting the climb up to the church. I’ve shared pictures from here before, and on a good day you can see all the way to the South Downs, and even on a bad day the view is worth the effort of the climb up. Sunday though, as I turned the final corner and came out from the tree lined path and the view opened out in front of me I was stopped dead in my tracks. The valleys below were filled with low lying mist, whilst the sun shone down from the clear sky. A train rattled along in the distance, the birds sang from the trees surrounding me, a pair of squirrels bound effortlessly across the path and into the trees on the other side, and instantly all was good with the world again This is why I run and cycle, this is why I’ll put up with the cold and the rain, this is why I’ll struggle on with frozen fingers and toes on a winter's day, this is why I’ll put up with inattentive car drivers trying to kill me on a regular basis, and this is why I am going to get back running eventually even if it kills me! It’s the odd day when you round a corner and are met with a view like this that makes it all worthwhile.
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Paul PerrattOld enough to know better, young enough to still feel invincible, stupid enough to keep on trying the same thing again and again. Cyclist, Gardener, Runner, Hiker, Cook, Woodworker, Engineer, Jack of all trades and master of none, Anti social old git and all round miserable bugger. Archives
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