Author: FosterRuns

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A very Nietzche-esque thing to do

If there is one thing that running teaches you, it is perseverance.  I thought this as I walked home on Friday night with three heavy bags of shopping, stopping only once to answer my mobile.  And I thought it again this morning as I ran off down the road aiming for a slightly longer than normal run.

Which is why I started off at a sensible pace, one that neither Nick nor Cliff can run at: slow!

I headed out to Oldlands Mill, but then rather than take the Ditchling route I turned right and dropped down into Hassocks, running through the back-streets to the station.  In an attempt to find some new paths I ended up running down more back-streets before emerging to the south of the village and running to Clayton at the base of the Downs.

Here the path takes the scarp slope head on and I engaged low gear and kept running as far as Jack & Jill.  Recognising that I normally walk across the car-park before carrying on up the hill (effectively breaking the hill into two) I decided just to keep going for a change.  I might not have stopped, but I have to confess to having had a little help… in the form of a couple of jelly babies.  Well, two at the bottom of the hill and two more at the very top to be exact.

I then ran across to Ditchling Beacon and whilst I had loosely planning to continue running towards Lewes, something caught my eye.  It was a group of three people contemplating a matched pair of barbed wire fences in the corner of a field.  I stopped to offer assistance, although since two of them were in their elegant seventies, I guess that they weren’t about to take me up on my offer.

Agreeing that the best way for them to go was back the way they had come, I then took the path in front of me which lead all the way down to Westmeston.  But on reaching Westmeston, a strange thought occurred to me, worthy of Cliff or Pete.  Why not run back up the hill?  

I was all out of reasons so I headed back aloft, taking the path goes pretty much directly from the bottom to the top.  At the top I chatted briefly to the group who had also made it back to the safety of the stile, before I headed off back towards the Beacon.  Nietzche would have been proud!

I took the path down before the road, but half way down my sense of curiosity took me off to the left from normal, across up-slope from a house with a tennis court to the beacon road and down to the car park at the bottom of the hill.  Here I turned left along Underhill Lane and then right onto the path that leads to Ditchling.  The village now boasts two tree-houses of which I am envious.  One is clearly for children, bearing in mind the assault course that enables them to get down.  The other, apparently, was designed with adults in mind… taking G&T’s on the deck looked like a very appealing prospect.

I ran up Lodge Hill and back via Oldlands Mill, feeling that I was finishing at pretty much the same pace that I started… still slow, but not quite fading, although that might have been something to do with another four or six jelly babies which I had callously chewed.  Overall the time was two hours, 34 minutes for 14.7 miles… a mere 5.72 mph.

However m’lud, I would like to introduce some mitigating circumstances: the time as I left the Beacon was 1 hour 45 and the speed up to that point, including two scarp climbs, was 5.35mph.  The 5.3 miles home from there was dispatched in 49 minutes… 6.5mph.  Still slow by comparison to the boys, but not that slow!

And I did have some additional weight to carry.

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Bright morning

This morning was bright and slightly chilly… sufficiently so to warrant longs, although the gloves might have been overkill.  Not that I took them off, of course!

I headed out to Ote Hall, past Wivelsfield Church and then out towards what I now know is Wivelsfield Hall.  (I don’t reach it and I’ve only seen what I assume is it from afar)  Then I dropped into Wivelsfield, up Hundred Acre Lane and hung a right into the woods.

Autumn has really kicked in since the recent wind & rain, with many of the leaves on the ground like a gloriously rich & golden mat.  With mud underneath.

At the Common I opted to run to the roundabout, across and then right down the path without crossing the railway line.  This is a very old route that I’d not run for ages and I had forgotten how pretty it is, especially at this time of year.  At the end it joins my normal route and I made it back to the house in one hour, nine minutes.  Overall a pretty slack 7.2 miles at 6.25mph, but a really enjoyable one in the autumn sunshine.

Cliff is trying to persuade me to enter the Prague marathon next year, but at this speed I would probably finish with the 2010 runners.  Oh my, is that another good excuse not to do it?

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Wet around the edges

Bearing in mind I was not in bed until well after 1am last night, the fact that I woke up before 7.30am seems crazy.  But despite the torrential rain last night, followed by bright, clear skies, it was neither wet nor cold and it was the uncommonly bright morning that had woken me.

I supped on a banana & some espresso and read for a while and finally emerged from the house, wearing shorts (again), just after nine.  Alas, after a bout of serious deck cleaning with a broom yesterday, I was not on top form and I decided early on that this would be a shortish run.

I headed out across the Common, where the duck pond was overflowing its banks and the slightest dip in the ground was full of water.  I stopped to take photo’s at regular intervals along the magical path so that you can see what I keep going on about (watch this space tomorrow for the results) – although I’m sure they still won’t do it justice.

The path through Blackbrook Woods was also wet and it was at this point that I switched to wet style running… that is, running straight down the path and through the middle of anything in the way.  Once your feet are wet, there seems little point in wasting time around the slippery margins.

As I headed south towards the Downs, my legs were already heavy and the thought of an extended run did not appeal.  So I turned right / west at Hayleigh Farm and headed across towards Ditchling on a soulless farm road with the wind picking up into my face.

I snuck through Ditchling, up onto Lodge Hill and around by Oldlands Mill.  Once again the path was waterlogged and the only other people I saw were struggling in wellington boots while I splished past them. 

Once onto the Keymer Road, I turned off to the water tower and across to the railway line.  The path that runs from here to the station always reminds me of Daren for some reason, probably for the visage of him disappearing kamikaze style ahead of me down a steep and extremely slippery hill… how he stayed vertical I really have no idea.

I reached the house in one hour 27 minutes after 8.8 miles… just over 6mph… and although I felt heavy legged whilst running, I feel quite sprightly now.  Stopping to take photos obviously had an impact on the split time (out at 5.66mph, return at 6.5mph) so I hope that you appreciate the photos!

As I sit writing, the Japanese Maple outside my study window is such a vivid red right now – I’ve taken a stack of photos of it and none of them capture the intensity of the colour.  This one is the closest.

Oh, and after a fine morning, the torrential rain has just started again… I’m really glad I got up when I did!

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Man Down!

It was another flat-grey, wet and slightly misty morning and I had forgotten about running until I prepped the espresso maker.  The shorts duly made another appearance and I jogged off into the surprising stillness of the world outside.

As I stretched out towards the Royal Oak, I had a sudden change of mind about where I was going and crossing the road, I headed up towards the Magical Path in the opposite direction to normal.  It really is amazing what you see and think when you look at something from a different perspective.  And, I thought as I tripped and flew through the air into the mud, what you don’t notice!  In this case, a low root.

As the seasons change, so does the environment and what was not a hazard before becomes more dangerous and visa-verse.  For example, there are always low branches to duck under, but on a flat-grey day, when they have lost their leaves, they are almost invisible against the patchwork quilt of colour behind.

The different viewpoint meant that a path that I seldom even register made itself clear to me and as a result I ran across to Hundred Acre Lane and up towards Wivelsfield for a way.  Missing the path I was aiming for I turned left onto another which took me back into the woods where I then ran right again until I reached Wivelsfield.

I realise that I am still running ‘dry style’, that is trying to keep my feet dry wherever possible.  Once the ground gets truly waterlogged I will be able to revert to ‘wet-style’, which is where I just run through the middle of the puddles with no regard for dryness.  This realisation has prompted me to think of a post for my other site which I shall write shortly.

Then it was a quick run past the Royal Oak, with it’s great memories of our Gathering last year (more so from this direction for some reason) and back to the house.  Despite the greyness of the day, the colours of autumn are glorious, so I thought it was time I showed you.

One hour and one minute was less time than I expected, but I didn’t feel as if I was running particularly fast, especially after my fall.  Distance to be confirmed later.

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A short reprise

After a day of torrential rain yesterday, where we hid away in the garage sculpting, we woke this morning to flat grey clouds and a light mist, suggesting it was kind of warm outside.  Which is was by comparison to some of the days we’ve had recently.

A quick espresso with a banana later and I was out the door by 10am… in my shorts.  Although I also had my Gore jacket, woollen Thurlo’s and Orange mud-pluggers on.  The latter seem to be my shoe of choice at the moment, and I guess it’s likely they will continue to be until the Spring now!  They are warmer and they actually give me some sense of grip in the mud… although they are like ice skates on wet wood.

I headed out to the south to Oldlands Mill (with a quick diversion around the water tower for a change) and then down onto Lodge Hill.  If you ever fancy a short walk with a great view, this little hill above Ditchling is really worthwhile as it looks down into the sleepy village below, as well as across at the Downs.

I bumbled along East End Lane and crossed the road at Sporting Cars of Brighton (MX5’s R Us) and started on the long run up to the Downs.  After all the rain I thought it would be really muddy, but most of the water was running off or sitting in puddles.  Still, as the incline increased the orange shoes really came into their own.

This path up Ditchling Beacon is a real test of endurance and I often think of it as a simile for work (at the moment, for sure!) where you just have to plug away, step after breathless step, the temptation to stop actually strengthening the resolve to keep running.  And the sense of achievement when you get to the top without having stopped (work-wise I’m still on the steep bit, alas!) is palpable.  Small victories, perhaps, but victories nevertheless.

As I made the top, the sun was just starting to burn through the mist, which was really uplifting, as was running back down the path again.

I now have some small sense of what it might have been like to face a cavalry charge in days of old.  As I came along a narrow path towards Ditchling, so towards me round a corner ahead came galloping a big white horse… EEEEk!  I pressed myself into the side of the path, but the woman saw me and reigned her steed in before they reached me.  PHEWIE!  The thought of a whole army of these things charging you down must have made those foot soldiers go week at the knees!

Back over Lodge Hill in the now sunny morning and past Oldlands Mill and then it was just a short tromp back to the house.  One hour 37 minutes seems like a shortish run for a Sunday, but it was 10.5 miles and I guess that 6.5mph is more than okay bearing in mind the climbs up Ditchling Beacon, and Lodge Hill on the way back.

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Long shot

That is actually short for Longs Summer Hibernation Over Today.

I had sat inside reading since just after 6am, watching the dawn break grey and cold.  Since the ice on the car outside still had not melted at 7.30am, I left the house wearing longs, my Thurloe woolen socks, two top layers plus my Gore jacket, hat AND gloves.  Oh, and my warmer, orange mud-plugging trainers.

This possibly sounds a little over the top, but I didn’t feel hot at any stage, so I feel vindicated in my decision.

I ran a very different way today.  Out to Ote Hall then left and across to Theobalds Lane.  Almost to the end then right onto a footpath across to Wivelsfield Church.  Right after the church then left and across to the north of Wivelsfield Green, dropping down through the middle of the village and up Hundred Acre Lane.  Right into the woods and along towards the industrial estate, but then right and right again in order to cut back across behind St Georges Retreat and down to the Royal Oak.  Then back the way I normally go out.

I’ve no idea of the distance at this moment, but it took one hour 15 minutes so I would guess around 7 or 8 miles.  (Postscript – it seems to be about 8.5 miles, although I went off the map briefly so I’m not certain)

Then I walked to the office and, losing my footing on the stairs, managed to wow the four people watching as I skied noisily down to land on my feet at the bottom!

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Cross fertilisation

The Clustermap logs for my two sites were recently archived and it was interesting to see the different reach of the two sites.  I’m sure that much of this is because each of the sites probably appeals to different people, but just in case it’s because you didn’t realise that I have two, the other one is at www.davidjfoster.info.

This message is particularly for those folk in, for example, the islands of Hawaii, Iceland, Madagascar and Tasmania who are obvious on a map of this scale.  Alas, I should have taken a copy of the map at a larger size before it was archived so that you could see how much the red blobs elsewhere really differ.

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Hot and wet

On a day that Lew was clearly sitting in front of the fire watching cartoons, I was out in the rain wondering whether I really need my jacket on, it was that warm.  At least inside my jacket!

I was in a wonderfully thoughtful frame of mind, brought on by my continued reading of The Black Swan by Nassim Taleb and my reaching a point where he posits a definition of an epistemocrat, with which I can associate.

I think that I finally got out at ten past eleven, choosing a moment where there was a squall in progress which helped me to decide which direction I was going to run.  For the woods!  I feel very lucky to have enough woodland in close proximity to be able to run for an hour under cover, which is great on hot days and on wet & windy days.  And I guess especially on days when you are both hot and wet, like today!

I ran to the Royal Oak and up through Hundred Acre wood, where I was delighted to see all manner of walkers, young and old, with and without dogs (it was a shame that two Wivelsfield ladies couldn’t be bothered to at least flick their dog’s poo off the path though!).  It might have been windy and raining but it really was beautiful out there!  And great for the soul!

As I ran along the magical path, I realised that it was a lovely metaphor for life.  The path winds ahead through the trees and you have a sense of where you are going, but not a clear view.  There are opportunities to turn off onto different paths along the way, but the path ahead is really intriguing.  Most importantly, you have to watch your step, ducking around the trees and under low branches.  

This is wonderful if you have your wits about you, but I can imagine it not being such fun if it were dark, or you were tired, as it would be quite confusing and dangerous.  I really must take a photo to show you what I mean.

I’m always keen not to run the same route twice, as the tendency is to compare times directly and today I had the additional incentive that I knew the easy way back would not allow me to reach the hour, a kind of informal lower threshold for a Sunday run.  So I ran on past the development of St George’s Retreat and back to the Royal Oak.

Here I took a Nietzschian decision.  Rather than stick to the calm shelter of the woodland, I would cut back across more open ground, in spite of the conditions, in order to experience the adversity of it.  I recalled cold, miserably wet walks in Wales, the Lake District and Scotland when I was young.  

As I pushed on into the weather, I was surprised that it still had a draining effect on my energy and I wondered how much of this was physical and how much psychological.  Even being aware of it, I still suspect it is the latter, as once I was back into woodland I felt fine and I was not exhausted on reaching home.

The distance was 6.75 miles and the time on completion was, er, ten past eleven.  That’s strange, it took me no time whatsoever.

Or maybe British Summertime ended while I was out.