running, reading, nonsense.
2016, written by Charlie Engle Listened to on Audible Being a good storyteller, and having good stories, are separate matters. The same can be said for being a good runner, and being a good writer. Charlie Engle, for my money, is all four. It was at Engle’s description of his first ever drink that I… Continue reading Running Man
The runners crashed by me, skidding on the loose rock trail, exhibiting tremendous speed and technical ability. I also ran. Just, not like that. Part of my interest in trail running is that it is beyond my comfort zone. I do not possess tremendous speed and technical ability, particularly not on steep downhills. Think less… Continue reading Downhills are Supposed to be Fun
I went away for two weeks and when I came back the seasons had changed. The heath where I go to run before work, and retreat to during my break, has sprouted. Its trees and bushes and fields are verdant, bright. The grass pops green, clashes with the yellow of the rape flower. Every year… Continue reading So Bloody Green
Time changes when you run somewhere new. I can’t say for sure whether it speeds up, or slows down, but it feels different. The explanation is probably as simple as: you don’t look at your watch as much; or you aren’t making calculations in your head based on landmarks because you have yet to commit… Continue reading Holidaying, Running, and Falling Out of the Stream of Linear Time.
ENDURANCE LIFE SUSSEX - HALF MARATHON - 2185 FEET ELV. The drive to Eastbourne was ponderous. I avoided the Dartford crossing, at my peril. It would have been worth the measly £2.50 to not get stuck in traffic, which is bleeding obvious in reflection. Things were looking up when I realised there was a Leon… Continue reading A Pink Moon
With the price of everything on the up, and the planet burning, freezing, and falling over, I’ve been trying to reduce the amount of travelling I do for my running. I have everything I need within foot-powered travelling distance of my bed. And sure, there aren’t exactly mountains in my back garden but I do… Continue reading A Nice Spot
Hunstanton and Heacham are the coastal towns of my youth. Would I recommend them as a holiday destination to some strapping young couple, looking for adventure and sensual excitement? No, absolutely not. But both towns, like so many British coastal towns, serve up a very specific kind of laid back leisure. My family had rented… Continue reading Running the Coast of My Youth
The first sign that not all was right was when the first mile arrived before the first mile should have arrived. GPS is an unreliable friend at best however, so I disregarded this and trundled on. When the 4 mile sign drifted past as the watch stuck 3.25 miles I thought perhaps, yes, something has… Continue reading Not 10 Miles
It is a relatively small, but notably unique and remarkably challenging, rise in the Peak District, just outside the sleepy village of East Sterndale. The clouds were low, but they didn’t obscure the view so much as to make it all the more dramatic; crowning every hill top, farmhouse, and tumulus, in eerie grey wreaths.… Continue reading Alone on Parkhouse Hill
Not every run is particularly good or particularly bad. Most runs are...what they are, and the more you run the more each individual run becomes more anonymous. This isn’t a bad thing, it is just a symptom of daily practise. Perhaps it sounds like a negative, but what it really speaks to is routine, and… Continue reading Eurus, God of the East Wind
run into words 