mud, glorious mud
I’ve been getting back into running for a while now, since injury kept me away last summer. Parkrun times are slower than they used to be, but as it’s been pretty much the only running I’ve been doing, that’s understandable.
My running buddy suggested that we meet up on a Monday evening for a run. Nothing too far, just stretch the legs and get back into running a couple of times a week. Great idea.
We’d meet up at the car park, and run a lap of Walton Colliery nature reserve. It’s about 3km around. His dog loves a run too, so we chat about life, camping, whisky and other stuff (me and my running buddy, not the dog - though he also loves camping). It’s all fairly well-packed trails, the odd puddle but nothing you can’t jump over.
Back to the car for a ‘that was good, great to get out, pub Friday?’ then home.
This week I was feeling pretty good, so planned a slightly longer run.
Instead of just the outer lap, we’d get back to the car park then do the inner lap. It adds about 2km to the run, take it easy, see how we go.
First lap, things were going great. Nice and steady, how was your weekend, etc.
The puddles were a bit bigger than usual. More mud, still jumpable in places, but ended up getting damp feet. No worries, these things happen.
Then we start the inner lap. Up out of the car park on a short incline. I’d plotted the route on Garmin Connect and was using my watch as navigation.
“We’ve missed the path!” I shout as the track levels out. “It was back there!”
Running buddy says there was no path back there, so we carry on. We’ll meet up with the planned route a bit further on.
Now, the lower path is, as I said earlier, fairly well-packed trail. The upper path… isn’t.
The inner path could best be described as ‘a bit boggy’.
There comes a point on a wet, muddy run where you just have to accept that your feet are wet, your shoes are sodden and clagged up with mud and realistically, bar falling face first or on your bum, you are not going to get any wetter or muddier.
There’s also a point where you realise that you’re actually having a bloody brilliant time, slip sliding in the mud, flailing around trying to get to the actual path with your best mate laughing at how fantastically muddy it is.
And you get past the mud and back to the car and a ‘that was bloody brilliant, great to get out, you pick the route next time, eh? Pub Friday?’ then home.
I’m not sure my trainers will recover.