Still, working at home is always relaxing, and it gave me opportunity to walk around a lot and to undertake pelvic tilts, which were now possible. I decided that swimming had certainly been the cure, because it's the only think I definitely did differently from other times I've had back problems. I decided to go again on Friday, and this time I did 30 reasonably pain free lengths, and I made myself stop for fear of overdoing it, rather than having the stopping forced on me, like Thursday. I felt pretty strong, and took some pain killers to celebrate. I rested over the weekend, although found opportunity to practice the pelvic tilts (which are important). I might have even got my spine up to a bridge at one point. I did some mental calculations though and realised that doing a long run, foolish as it sounds, was going to be psychologically important now. I tried to figure out where "stupid" lay in the calculation of how long this long run should be. I'd done two 4.5 mile runs. I thought 12 might be workable.
I set off on the route up the river that finished my calves off last time, because I'd been so excited by it, and wanted to see a bit further. That time would have been 12 miles, if I had been able to finish it all without walking the last 4 miles. I was pretty late starting tonight, but for some reason I decided it wouldn't matter because the route home would be lit up. Frankly, I don't know where I get these ideas from. Anyway, the plan was to park at the Boat House, and run up the river, past Ferry Meadows, and up the Nene River path. It's really nice, and it was also a cracking good evening. I saw this little guy who coolly stayed where he was, unlike most of my feathered models.There's a nice little bridge across the river which is steep enough that they put slats on to stop you slipping backwards, and an old mill building. A little beyond that, where there's a bit of road, and then back onto the fields, are some rather gorgeous horses in a field who seem to be curious about the passers by, and then a style, where I took opportunity for refreshment, as the height enabled me to reach the perfect blackberries at the top of the hedge. Ashley posted a comment from "Oh the Places you'll Go", another favourite Dr Seuss story, "You have brains in your head, you have feet in your shoes, you can steer yourself any direction you choose", which made me grin again, it was so appropriate! Thank you Ashley. This was followed up by a pithy "Go Go Power Rangers" from Emma P, in response to cycling-Chris' earlier "Go Go Goldberg" comment.
I dropped down to the river again, and wondered how wet this stretch gets in a month or two's time - often the river overtops its banks (as doubtless you'll recall from older posts - it certainly doesn't break the banks, anyway) and one year the Hereward Relay race was cancelled because half the course was closer to swimming. Who doesn't like a bit of wading in November, anyway? However, today all was calm, and the evening was beautiful. Although coming on rather fast. I checked my time. It was 7:40pm, and I'd run close to 7 miles. I reasoned again at this point that I'd take a faster route back, through Ferry Meadows park, which surely had those lit-up cats-eyes in the pathways, didn't it? I'd be fine. I just really wanted to know what happened next on this path. I got as far as this weir, which happened at 7 miles, and decided it was time to go back. It was already gloomy (although the photo was pointing west, so it seems bright enough).I turned back, and took a straighter path, avoiding the meanders of the river, past some cows which I didn't see on the way, and the horses, back past the road with the apple trees, and the old mill. It was getting quite dark when Anthony called me to check I was home, because it was, after all, dark now. I promised him that I was half a mile away from the lit up area, and then I'd be fine. "You are OK, though, Em?" "Yes, I could do this route with my eyes closed" I told him. I came off the phone, and realised that the brightly lit screen had buggered my night vision. Let's see about that then, I thought. I now couldn't tell what the vegetation was at the sides of the path, and got nettled a few times. I could see undulations, but not really what was underfoot. I could see the river, and the trees overhead, but the pathway was closing over in gloom. I thought about Suzanne Vega's Night Vision song, when the darkness takes you with her hand across your face - don't give in too easily, find the things she's erased. I was almost at the bridge where the railtrack crosses, and the pathway was lighter, but quite steep and stony, and as I got to the top of it, I lost my footing and fell. "Yes I'm fine" I thought, rubbing my smarting knee "because that's exactly what I needed". I basically didn't have time to be injured, just as I didn't have time to have a sore back. Yes, it was hurting a bit, now you come to mention it, after 10 miles. Probably under normal circs I would have slowed down. Not tonight.
I bombed across the railway, and now the path was clearly visible because nothing else was, and it was tarmac. The trees were still overshadowing my route. Not long till I got to Ferry Meadows. I reached my usual route, which I was pretty sure I could do with my eyes shut, and just as well, because whatever part of my mind had installed the blue lights along the pathway, it certainly wasn't the Council. It remained black. I ran a bit faster. I got to the new boathouse on the lake, and it was lit up like a beacon, throwing light over the road and carpark. I made a mental note of the new cycle hire place. Again, running past lights meant running out into the black. I saw some people walking with torch light and decided to not feel intimidated. Is there anything more terrifying than seeing a runner in pitch black, going at full pelt with no light at all because she's so hard? I don't think so. Pah. The evening light started doing weird things at this point, including getting lighter. However, I am attributing this to the additional light being thrown upwards from the lakes I was passing. It's the only thing that made sense. I was concerned about the final strip of pathway between the lake and the edge of the rail line, which cuts along the river edge again briefly. I knew there weren't any lights on this bit because it's a stoned track, not tarmac - and I was back among the trees. But it's a wide, sandy path, and was easily visible. People probably make too much fuss about darkness, I thought. It's quite easy to see really. After I crossed the rail line, and was along the tarmac path, which I was SURE had cats eyes - it was really quite dark. This was in fact a point that I had previously practiced running with my eyes closed while holding Summer, and it was quite scary- I kept veering away from her and she had to call me back. I definitely couldn't run this with my eyes closed. The last vestiges of light were making it possible to see where I was, and I kept picking my feet up so I didn't trip on rucks in the tarmac where roots had pushed it up. Finally I got to the weir at Orton Mere. HERE were the blue cats eyes. I crossed back over the railway line, and followed bright blue cats eyes all the way back to the car, the final stretch looking just like a run way. Not that I was in any danger of take-off.
My runmeter recorded 13.85 miles. It seemed like a reasonable stab at a long run.Over half way.
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