Right, if it won’t stop raining, then I’m just going to have to get wet (again). To that end, I’ve been getting wet this weekend, although maybe just getting wet isn’t quite descriptive enough! In fact, I think “and muddy” needs to be added to that for the full effect! “Wet and very muddy”, yes that’s far better.
I suppose I’m going to have to elaborate on “wet and muddy” though or this is going to be the shortest blog post ever. I’ve actually been running, or more accurately that should probably be “slip sliding around in the mud” because the conditions were what would be termed "Heavy" in horse racing circles, and as such there wasn’t actually that much running going on. Sunday was a new event for me in the form of the Sevenoaks Circular, a 30 mile route through what is undoubtedly some glorious North Kent countryside, hosted, fabulously, as ever, by our friends at the Kent LDWA. I’d been looking forward to this one ever since I’d signed up for it back in the depths of winter, and despite the gods of road works trying their hardest to stop me getting there by closing the M25 ,I was determined to have a good day out. Hearing about the planned M25 closure a couple of weeks ago I'd actually considered pulling out of this event. But a look at the map showed that it should still be possible to get there, even though it may take a while, and I’d warned “The Emma” that if the traffic was bad on the way down then I’d just stay Sunday night too and go direct to work on Monday morning, thus avoiding the road closures. As it happened the M25 closure had little effect on my journey (in fact it was probably better than it normally is) and I had a good journey in both directions. Having planned on being delayed I’d set off early Saturday afternoon, and thus found myself with a couple of hours to kill before bedtime Saturday night. A situation which was easily remedied by a wander round Sevenoaks and a quiet pint, whilst watching the world go by, before bed. A later than normal start on Sunday (09:00) meant for a leisurely start, and as I sat in the van having a brew, I actually thought that I might have got lucky, and the forecast rain hadn’t materialised. How wrong could I be though, because by the time I actually got to the start, the blue skies had moved on and a steady rain was falling from the skies. Checked in, rain jacket securely fastened, one last biscuit, shoes tightened, and route loaded onto my sat nav. Just before 09:00 I was ready to go. The rolling start and need to reach the prescribed checkpoints within their opening / closing times, meant I set off alone, the slower walkers having already departed, and the faster runners, still thinking about getting out of bed. Just me, the sound of rain falling all around me, the squelch of wet feet underfoot and the joy of being outside, I can live with that!
From the off it was incredibly muddy. A 2” deep layer of slippery mud coated most of the paths. Mud which had been churned up by multiple feet through the winter, and made worse by the never-ending rain over the past months. Mud which made running almost impossible, as the gloop filled the treads of my trail shoes and left a smooth, slick, surface, which was impossible to gain any traction from.
Slow progress wasn’t a problem through, the footpaths were deserted, the road crossings quiet, and the steadily falling rain, bought a peacefulness to the countryside, as I progressed slowly along. Church bells rang in the distance, calling the faithful to prayer as they have for a millennia before. Sheep, their fleeces wet, matted, and dirty, from the weeks of rain, gazed intently from the fields either side. Magpies called from the trees, Blackbirds hunted through the wet leaves underfoot in search of a tasty morsal, and squirrels scampered back to the safety of the trees as I passed. None seemed overly bothered by the falling rain though, so why should I?
By the time I reached the first checkpoint approaching the 9 mile mark, the rain had eased, leaving a steady drizzle in its place. I could have gone into the checkpoint, had a brew and a chat with the lovely volunteers manning their station, but would I have come back out to face the mud and rain again?
Probably, but why tempt fate. Besides, I was only 9 miles in, there’s no need to stop yet, so I had my number noted down to prove my passing and pushed on.
The next leg was a loop, reducing the need for additional checkpoints and adding miles to the route without additional support requirements. Not that that detracted from the beauty of the area and the outstanding views from the high points (not that you could see far in the drizzle and general murk, that still pervaded).
By late morning the drizzle had abated and by the time I got back to the checkpoint the day was slowly warming up. Jacket off, water refilled and a marmite sandwich from the large spread on offer, courtesy of the volunteers manning the checkpoint to enjoy as I pushed on, and I was soon on my way again.
Surprisingly the next few miles were really boggy. Picking up the North Downs way and following the high ground, I had thought that this section would be fairly dry. Those hopes were soon dashed as I started what turned out to be the first of a few miles sloshing through waterlogged fields. The water oozed between my toes, cold, muddy and wet. My soaked socks clung to my feet, and the water was pushed and pulled through the thin fabric of my running shoes with every step. The views from the top of those hills provided distractions from the discomfort of running with wet feet though, and whilst progress was slow as I sloshed through the endless puddles, I was making progress and the miles left to go, were slowly ticking down.
Leaving the high ground of the North Downs Way behind, the waterlogging actually improved, and a few miles along better drained trails and quiet country roads provided the opportunity to make up a bit of time.
Time that was rapidly lost again as I approached the next checkpoint and struggled with the routing. I wasn’t the only one though and within a few minutes there was a small group of us, discussing where we should be going. “The GPS says this way”. “Seems about right, from the route sheet”. “But why would we be going this way, the checkpoints over there"? A short diversion to get back on track, a slog up a really muddy path, and finally the checkpoint hove into view, along with the opportunity to grab a biscuit and a slice of fruit cake (purely for sustenance) and a few seconds admiring the expansive view from the checkpoint, before pushing on for the final few miles.
One last push to the finish then, and after the mornings rain the sun tried valiantly to make its presence felt, as morning turned towards afternoon. More miles along mud heavy footpaths, the sticky gloop pulling at tired leg muscles, as I slipped and slid around, arms flailing for balance, knees and ankles protesting at the endless twisting.
I was making progress though. One final long, steep, climb, and then back onto the familiar, muddy footpath that I had followed in the opposite direction hours earlier ,to take me back to the start, and the bitter, sweet, feeling that the conclusion of every brilliant day out brings.
Not a fast day out by any stretch of the imagination at 6:20 for 30 miles, but a time that I’m happy with considering the conditions of the day. And whilst the conditions underfoot had been pretty dire for most of the day, it had still been a brilliant day out. A day out that I’m raring to complete again when the weathers a bit more beneficial, and the going's a bit better, as I really don’t think that I saw this route in its best light.
In fact, if it was that good when the weather was against it, imagine how brilliant it will be when the sun’s shining, the woods are full of Bluebells and spring fills the air. This is definitely one to come back to again.
And just before I sign off for this week, we've got new neighbours at home, and they've evicted the wildlife that lived at the bottom of their garden.
I might have mentioned before about the family of Sparrows that live in our roof. They shouldn't be living in our roof, but I haven't got the heart to evict them, and in fact they seem to be doing quite well up there and have managed to expand their family over the last few years. Due to their rapid expansion, half of the family moved out from our roof and moved into the bush at the end of next door's garden last year, and continued to flourish in their new home. Flourish that is until the new neighbours moved in and proceeded to cut down their home. I'm not sure why they've cut it down, as it's now in an unsightly pile in exactly the same pace as it was when it was growing and providing a bit of colour, but dead and decaying instead of green, verdant and full of flowers in the summer. The Sparrows though are looking lost, having lost their home for no apparent reason, and to that end "The Emma" suggested that they might need a new home, and suggested that I might know where to find one.
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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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