The Helm

The week came and went, and suddenly it was Thursday without my having achieved any additional training. I chanced to be back in Cumbria, and asked the good folk of Murley Moss Business Park for a short lunchtime run. They recommended “The Helm” which I have to admit, sort of embarrasses me. The reason is simple. I’ve worked with the company for fifteen years (almost to a day), and over the course of that time, I’ve had plenty of trips up to the Kendal office. Admittedly, I wasn’t in the business of running until the latter years, and the one time I was up this way that I did plan to go out, it was doing what Cumbria does best – raining so hard, I got put off. But the point is, the little hill they recommended is a good distance upwards from the office, but is bang outside the pub where I usually stay. I felt immense pleasure for once again, having the opportunity afforded only by this crazy desire to go running, to get this chance to explore my immediate environs, coupled with a deep-seated shame that I’d never bothered to do it before now.

I knew the uphill section along the road pretty well, precisely because it is the route both to the station and to my usual accommodation, but even so, running it was a bit of a shock, because it is pretty much "uphill"

. By the time I got to the Helm, which gave a distinct impression of chuckling, I was pretty much saying in a calming pilates-type voice “In your own time. At your own pace; In your own time. At your own pace;” over and over. The grass started (great for Hereward!!) and so did the hill. Wait, I thought… I’ve just… there was that big, uppy thing, already… so THAT’S what it was chuckling about. I set about putting one foot in front of the other, in time-honoured tradition, when a perky voice snapped on in my ear (I was not hearing things, it was runmeter. And it wasn’t that perky, but it did announce it was the Adder, so I mentally added extra perk, so to speak) “There’s a dinosaur behind you called Dave who wants to talk to you about Our Lord and Saviour. For the love of God, RUN, Emma!”. This beat Michael’s runmeter announcement as being the best one so far, by quite a wide margin. Adder’s comments are always good and usually off the wall, but this one, I felt, excelled itself. I decided to overlook the slight contradiction between the religious dinosaur and continuing my journey for the love of God, and focused instead on whether I knew any dinosaurs called Dave. I concluded that I did, but couldn’t think of any that would want to talk religion with me, so it must have been a different one. This was motivation to run.

It also prompted me to think about a Welsh fairy story about the red dragon and the white dragon that fight away under the ground, which gave rise to all those hills in Wales, I wondered if during a heavy battle, they might have drifted up to the Lakes. I started mentally preparing a Facebook status which was along the lines of “I don’t know if I can describe what happened on my run today: I must have been hallucinating because… it was almost as if… the ground was sort of tipped up on its side. I know, I’m not making much sense”. My brain rambled on a bit, quietly to itself, while I pondered that the Helm was very undulating, and was rather like a giant’s body sleeping on its side. I mused that I’d already run up the shins and over the knee, and I was surely half way up its ribcage by now. It put me in mind of a Chas Addams cartoon of two people looking over a countryside of fields, and one is saying “it looks almost like a patchwork quilt, doesn’t it?”, while at the top end of the countryside, is a giant’s head tucked away under the duvet. I’ll see if I can find it for you.

Anyway, I reached the top, and you could see right across the Lakes, and all the way to Morecombe Bay. It was a real treat, I can tell you. Then I saw the way down and almost fainted with vertigo. I couldn’t help but feel pleased that Rob hadn’t sent me on the reverse route, because going up that drop would have had me vomiting on the ground, I should think.

And something else rather wonderful happened on that trip. The following day I had a meeting with Rebecca, taking me back to the good old days. She "I've got a present for you!” It turned out that as an avid follower of this blog, she had

noted my over-extended journey a few weeks ago, where I returned a considerable distance in the dark, having assumed that the route would be lit considerably before it actually was, which had also resulted in my falling over on the way back. She then chanced to see a running hat with a built-in light in it! Magic! (Let me add, it will be considerably more value than it appears in this photo. Although let's face it, virtually any light would've worked. But this is actually quite bright.)

I have to say, if anything you read makes you think of a present you’d like to get for me, you just go right on ahead. It’s what I do this for, after all…

Emma 1: Cumbria 0

After Halloween, I picked up a cold. It was a pity, because my masterplan was to use a week’s leave, which I’d taken because I’ve been directing a play, and show-week is stressful enough without added work, to kick-start some really good runs, in advance of the Hereward Relay. But I got a cold, with a proper chesty cough, and didn’t do any running at all. The cough turned into one of those that sit on your chest like something out of Alien, and occasionally, inbetween exhaustion, you want to bare your teeth at people and scream. Oh no, wait, that wasn’t the cold. Anyway, the point is, I had loads of training to do, and I didn’t do any. So as per usual, I felt the weeks slipping by with another race day rapidly approaching. And Hereward, you know, it’s not a forgiving race. So when I realised that I had a little over a week, I thought it’s kill or cure, time to get out there. I traipsed out from the office on Thursday lunchtime, pushing myself to go along the river path because I knew the mud underfoot would be similar to the Hereward Relay, and although it was a nice enough day, I was exhausted, and kept finding myself slowing down to a walk. I forgave myself, magnanimously, and abridged my route to do a wide circle around the rowing lake (the upper path) and then back down the river. I walked at least 3 times in a 3 mile stretch. But it had been a fortnight, and I wasn’t exactly better. Although the running didn’t make me cough while I was doing it, there was a significant deterioration each time I ventured out, which was irritating.

On Saturday, up in Cumbria, I suggested to the Baron that we might go out together for some exercise. He was excited, because I said he could go on the bike, and said he knew just the route. I had fondly imagined that, like our excursion to buy the beast, we would ride and run together, but I had figured without a fatbike and a fell, and the ensuing excitement that generated. I’ll say this for him: the figure in the distance did pause long enough to make sure I’d clocked the right route. Although as the pathway climbed, and the clouds lowered, there were times that I felt more as if I were an Australian aborigine, tracking my quarry. It’s these moments of togetherness, I mused.

Still, despite the company, the route was brilliant. I’ve always been slightly suspicious of fell-runners because the likelihood of turning your ankle on uneven ground seems extremely high (and indeed, I did have a couple of “moments” on the run). The important thing, in my mind, however, was that it was on grass and mud, and furthermore, was going uphill, so it ticked every box for Hereward. And despite the low cloud, it felt beautiful, and the tempting, taunting peeks I got through parted cloud confirmed it. Cumbria – it’s alright.

I'd also like to point out that Cumbria boasts its own patented "foot-cooling solution" which ensure that no matter how fast you run, you won't overheat! I'm pretty sure that's what it was for, anyway.  And it turned out we did about 6 miles, it had involved one or two walks, but mainly running, and sure enough, the cough got worse afterwards – but I got in some good training! I’m sure that counts. 

How long can coughs possibly go on for, anyway?