Run for the hills

The advantage about sleeping in a yurt, or in fact any sort of tent, is that you do tend to wake up early, especially when it's been raining since five. When I say "advantage", obviously, I'm using the term loosely. I don't generally consider there to be an advantage in waking up early. However, when your time with your friends is precious, and none of them have any particular wish to get up, and you have a run to do, then I grudgingly concede that there are advantages. However, by now, we were hard-wired together by the Smurf-sisterhood. I quietly sat up and started putting on my running stuff, and before I'd started, Paddy had woken up "Fit you doin'?" she asked accusingly. Seconds later, everyone else was sitting up. "How'll you ken fa' you're goin'?" asked Susie. "Ah dinnae think Smurfs dae runnin'" said Louise, collapsing back into her sleeping bag "Ah'm mair your true Smurf". If any one of you thinks this is an exaggeration, you're wrong. It's modest. If I could recollect more of the dialogue, I'd put it in.

I crept out of the yurt with the garmin and water bottle, although I couldn't find the heart rate monitor, and proceeded to abandon the water bottle in the chemical loos. I was amazed by how many people were up and about at 7:30, although I guess the inability to sleep in in tents is universal. I was so overcome with curiosity that I chatted to a bloke in case we were missing something fantastic. "Why're so many people awake so early?" I asked him "Early? I've already had my cold shower, I'm away for my breakfast" he told me. He asked about my ensemble, so I told him I really was going running, rather than being dressed like a chav. (I didn't say that). I told him about training, and how I was scared of Sal, and that I was tasked with finding some hills. "Aye, you're in the right place. You're never more than ten minutes away frae a hill in Scotland" he said. Then realised I'd left my water bottle. "Don't worry, I'll stand you a bottle of water" he said, as we were nearing the coffee stand. How kind was that?

I set off, using the opportunity to check out where the signs for the free bus went, and made it to the road. I mentally flipped a coin in my head, which came down tails, so I went left. I found some hill already! It wasn't a bit like the hill in Peterborough either. It went up for ages. Then it went down a lot further. I seemed to have inadvertently picked a route that had slow ups and steep downs. Which I suppose was good. I took a track off up to a farm which had continued the slow-up trend. Then it did what no hill in Peterborough would do - it had two false summits!

I'd hazard a guess that this is not what Scottish people would call hilly, either. In fact, it brought to mind my holiday, a few years ago in Tuscany (although not because of the weather) where our Swiss guide would outline the route each day for us: "We start off downhill [he'd make a downhill flow of his hand]; then it will be 'rolling' [small wave actions]; then it will be 'undulating' [big wave actions]; then it will be up". It was in vain for me to explain that "rolling" and "undulating" were synonyms in this context. He was sure that "undulating" meant the inclines were steeper. "Just because it's harder to say, doesn't mean it's harder to do" I told him, but he was having none of it "No, I do not think they are the same" he said. Anyway, my run today was definitely closer to "rolling".

The other side of the farm, I came to a main road. I really wanted to find a trail through the woods, but wasn't sure if there was one, where it would go, whether they were private, and where it would come out, so I ended up playing it safe, and staying on the road. I say "playing it safe" - it was quite a fast road, and there wasn't a footpath, but I had high hope of it being Sunday morning and there not being much traffic. I made sure to be running into the traffic, rather than with it coming up behind me, and of course I wasn't listening to music. The "of course" is because I'd left my headphones in England, but had I had them, I'd have turned it off, to listen for cars. There were enough to disrupt my flow several times, considerably buggering up my average pace, although two of them did wave "thanks" at me for getting off the road. I was able to take a little diversion off the main road, which went along the side of a stream and then what I assume must be Scone Palace's forestry. It was quite good, although they've got quite a problem with rhododendron and Himalayan balsam. I noticed the way that I could pick out the spruce in an oak plantation by smell, before I'd seen it; and that spruce and larch smell but Scots pine doesn't. They had good potential for a continuous cover system in the Scots Pine as well, I thought. A lot of advance regeneration of larch coming up under the pine. Just as I got to some beech, I had to focus on the road because it was going down so steeply, I could feel it on my thighs.

I approached the palace grounds and realised I was only on 7.5 miles. I wanted to make sure I'd done more than Dave and I did last week, so I headed up the river a way. I'd been considering starting out along the river, but since they are generally known for the flatter land they pass through, I'd decided to look for higher ground. But I'm glad I got to see it, it was very pretty, and the sun came up as well.

By the time I got back, there was movement in Smurfland. I was entreated to come back into the Yurt, but I assured them that was a poor move on their parts and the only sensible option was to pass me my towel, shampoo and money for tea, and shoo me out again, which they sensibly did.

I didn't have much time that day for music, but we did go out and have a successful foray to my two favourite shops in the festival grounds, which were a cloths shop called Priya's and a silversmith called Meredith Jewellry, where I was able to make some purchases. Then I got lunch from the "Laughing Stock",  who sell "fast food, not junk food" and seemed very right-on; I chose a "Fab Falafel" - and it was fab, too. They had a great sign in their stall, which I took a photo of.

Not long after that, it was time to have a final drink with the Hens, and make my way back to the train station, and wend my merry way home. Training and rock festivals. Who says I can't do it all?