currents

so difficult. trousers? shorts? long sleeves? short sleeves? obviously gloves. start with gloves, go from there. go short as not going far. easier start today. until woods. stop same place as yesterday to do same thing, at same time. thankful for the woods. can be a sort of sheltering harbour at the start of a run. does have its tough currents, and the occasional rum cove. don’t look at blackberryin’ squad in their black car halfway up dead end lane. better along coach road but puffing. training hasn’t been great, hope it’s stiffness and not loss of fitness. rubbish across fields. man tugs then hugs furious spaniel halfway up stony track. mallard duck and mallard drake side by side by heron pond. hands on knees at top of partridge lane. back in woods, easy detour around da squad. in the cause against embarrassment say hi to bill woman. realise it was her approaching as left coach road, so also shows wasn’t avoiding her. embarrassment and misunderstanding, who needs them. maybe bill does. unintentionally chase misunderstanding black and white cat out of woods. such a dodgy exit right on the lane. same run, same fast finish as yesterday. just lying on grass feels like stretching.

circulation

could have trained every day this week by running early or late but um didn’t. didn’t think resting would be beneficial either and it feels that way. moving about feels unnatural. and yet, somehow, it’s nice to resume. nice for the head perhaps. nice weather. usual parts kick and scream all the way to the woods. not listening. have to stop in woods. unignorable. loosen laces. often helps. onwards. ground feels hard. softens. still compromised along coach road. try to shake arms and shoulders loose, and hands warm. fingers pink, nails white, like they’re on too tight, like linuses. tight muscles affecting circulation perhaps. tight muscles to blame for everything. suffering as familiar walker approaches and waves so not to say hi again. say hi. dead magpie in first field. scattered dung in first, second and third. nothing else. back to woods. round woods. speed up. skip through daffodil shoots. stretch on grass.

magnolia

cloudy. smudged pastel. shorts, t, gloves. woods. runner in running gear. coach road. bloke on bench says something or other. fields. slow for tractor. lanes. legs dead, no way round again. lap of woods and out. stretch under magnolia.

no show

sunny sunny. shorts, no gloves. to woods effortfully fast. would’ve sunk if raced. try to sprint coach road. sunk without trace. enormous bright gold sun over fields. nothing turquoise. something grey. heron waving away from heron pond. tries to land on top of lone sad spindly christmas tree. flaps away leaving heron-head-and-neck-shaped top bobbing. puff up partridge lane. push on back to woods. round again? round again. sort of sprint coach road. sun gone. pink and turquoise sky. bonfire smoke at top of lane. could do with gloves. to woods and home.

unmuffleble

yesterday a rest, today a test to see if will run in tomorrow’s big race. unlikely. mind made up before woods. enter woods jogging, exit running. sprint coach road but shows up more undetected stiffnesses. fields empty and dry. something turquoise at end of last field. person. blonde girl with turquoise scarf and big grey dog. smiles. stony track doesn’t seem so bad. lane does. couple ahead. suddenly aware of how noisily i'm puffing. unmuffleble. just manage a hi when one is required. back to woods. decide to do second lap of coach road and fields, just because. push along coach road. over the top of its gently humped back. turquoise. blonde girl carrying scarf now like i'm carrying gloves. try not to run into twiggy tree. smiles. looks like kate moss. a teenage kate moss. oh well. two smiles though. fields don’t seem too bad at all. nor rest of lap. back into woods. usual lap of woods? passing girl again might look suspect. unlikely though. follow narrow, less travelled path. round bend, big grey dog, girl, smiles. nothing from me but a glance again, have to watch footing. three smiles. if only... hm, long list. fortunately don’t pass again. must have been heading for the huge houses. beautiful world is a cruel world.

clueless

late start. to vineyard. run into manager of former, unpopular, elitist running team that poached other clubs' runners. pass occasionally and saw at last race. possibly due to embarrassment explain reason for rubbish performance. unnecessary detail. unnecessary full stop - he thought i was ‘rattling along’ at end. continue giving impression of being clueless idiot. says i can call if i ever want advice. says why don’t i give him my number. oh no. suspect he wants to coach someone. sort of have a coach and don’t want to give it anyway as find him somewhat pushy. give it. oh no. searches through rucksack. try to avert future awkwardness by mentioning our promising junior. seems interested. say i’ll have a word. rarely see junior and his coach wouldn’t be pleased. oh fuck. shouldn’t have stopped. idiot. continue sodding run. over downs to bury hill, as usual. virtual kicking of self fails to obscure increasing discomfort of achilles. truck full of tree parts pulls up in bus bay. some way past hear oi yelled aggressively. don’t think it’s for me but can’t see who else it’s for. not the best way to go about getting directions if that’s what they want. park feels spring like. canada geese gliding on water. run gradually slows to jog. still light. still kicking myself.

big bird

awful rusty start next to line of cars. little better in woods. main path. approaching three noisy hoodies. could turn left but just passed dog walker so what the hell. say legs up, knees up and SPRINT. could’ve been worse. fast along coach road but wind assisted and hamstrings protest. faster than usual across fields, albeit in bursts. up partridge lane like big bird. or something. not nimbly. back into woods briefly. push home so warmed up for stretching. stretch for a while lying on grass. quite like it. blankly smoky sky. fine raindrops drop. five or six enough.

plod

early spring-ish - 11 degrees, almost sunny. not ready for it. decide against shorts. tiredness and stiffness causing self-consciousness. legs look white. occasionally have to go through this sort of rubbish. reason hate traffic at the start of a run. to vineyard, overdressed. chimney sweep emblazoned on van parked across top of drive. passenger opening kfc box. wonder if when they saw me they suddenly, self-consciously thought, we’re blocking that drive. alley. need new shoes, little cushion left. flat. feel beaten up come top of vineyard. mildly shocked, didn’t know i was this stiff. muddy flinty paths up onto downs. thighs dead. realise these are the steepest hills i’ve climbed since the snow. steepness reveals tightness - no wonder i sank in the last race. muddy bridleway then last little climb. legs completely gone. plod past church and through gate by car park. add a little bit. only a bit, now i’m up. along then straight down. hate going down steep slopes, especially ones with loose surfaces, often hard to get going again once down. plod along pilgrims’. pause at bury hill to stretch hams. suffering. pause in town to say hello to former club mate. late for the chiropractor i think. again wonder if i’m imagining the slightly patronising manner. big pile of grey snow in car park by church. still so light through park. would prefer it a bit darker. perspiring, in pain... not pretty.

twiggy

gentle rain arrives as step out door. to woods. plan to go short and fast and get back for most of football. trying to move faster but tightness of calves all too clear now. probably tight from snow runs. back and shoulders are tight too, from weights and computer hours. creeps up on you, tightness. if i ever massage one leg loose the contrast with the other one can be truly astonishing; you wonder how you moved at all with both like that; and how you didn’t notice. being stupid probably doesn’t help. follow mountain bikers along coach road but can’t keep up. go wide as approach phoebe and nearly run into twiggy tree. breathing hard up partridge lane - result of tight back, etc. back into woods. expect to meet phoebe coming back from coach road but don’t. fast finish. stretch watching football. mute sycophantic commentary. bet that lot have massage on tap.

who's bill

can run. appears massaging calf worked, so tight calf probably caused heel pain. brilliant. final answer. reverse yesterday’s route. narrow path through woods, dog walker ahead. say hi as warning. unheard. say hi again. woman says bill. wonder if she misheard, say hi again. you're bill says woman. nonplussed, say i’m simon. oh, you look like bill says woman. possibly say oh. jokingly add who’s bill. end of conversation. wonder how old bill is. remember same woman saying hi a couple of months ago, remember thinking she said it as if she knew me. realise i was right to think that. pass phoebe. ignores me.

ow etc

experiment. worryingly zonked. what effect will running have? don’t want to rest, or rather, want to carry on with the recovery runs and stretching afterwards, otherwise will just stay stiff. jog off. ow. ow ow ow. effing heel, effing painful. don’t know why. jog and wince to woods. fiddle with shoe. jog and, ow, fiddle, round woods. couple of snowflakes. out along coach road. stop stopping, speed up and dare it to get worse. snowman watching golfers. stretch leg at stile. jog across fields. poor old cattle bellowing heads off in barn. nearly always better to be out. slip in mud. fed up but don’t feel zonked. not going fast enough. heel pulls up partridge lane. bit zonked at top. pain nips down ratty lane. and through woods. and all the way home. irritating. unexpected result.

wet wet wet

yesterday plus rain plus towering rainbow. oh and sign is suddenly standing. hmm.

wet

traffic. faster, looser, wait, wait, now go, go behind me - i know there’s a puddle - wait, wait, cross sides, looser, don’t wince. must be how bullied ballerinas feel. into woods. fiddle with shoe. pirouette around mud. so wet. to coach road. flooding has gone. shiny whiteness on golf course. might be snow but think it’s the river. over stile, across fields. water and watery mud. black trousers look rusty in low golden sun. maize crop rustling in wind, dry leaves like streamers. more shiny whiteness. vast sheet of water at bottom of ploughed field, looks just like snow. rats up rat run lane. some of blackberryin’ squad, as i know them, in car halfway up dead end lane by woods. various lads like to wait there for some reason. once wondered if they were going blackberry picking. through woods and back. recumbent sign with restaurant’s menu on has film of water. been lying on verge for several weeks. feel gordon would suggest they stand it up.

green free

stiff. looser than expected. rain. won’t penetrate layers. spray from traffic. saw it coming. woods = mud. find firm paths to fairway. golf course is green. wind and rain should mean no golf. one more round. wind is arctic. head for sheltered ramp. snowman still standing? is. is armless. arms are on ground. could be standing for weeks. brilliant. steal around course. greens are pools. stick to outside, outside is fine. onto coach road. end is flooded. step over fence, back onto course. dry path through woods. back to top fairway. snow in top corner. one more go... crunch. slip. so long snow. woods to lane then lane then home.

down by the river

new venue, right on river. thames is a foot away. travelling party has disappeared into club house. head along tow path to start. email said parts of course on tow path, and other parts on muddy flood plain. cue anxiety about what to wear on feet. no one from our club at start. dump bags by bigger team's. jog off on warm up lap. no snow. slush. slush and water. slush and water and mud. has to be spikes, anything else would cost you a minute a mile. turn around. go back along tow path. lost... like i was on that beach... gone too far? weave through trees, find familiar slush. better get a move on. good number of team members have materialized at the start. need a number. need to tie tag to shoe... something else that's new, tag records your time. fiddle.

the start. our last match in the premiership, as it were. we know we're going down but, belatedly, it's a great turnout - 20-odd (first ten will score). could go out in style. know i'm fit too, can never tell but might actually have a good race. hooter takes me totally by surprise. rapidly pick up pace, want to get good position before narrow path. get near the front. hardly breathing. feels slow. splash splash splash. don't seem to be holding position. junior from our club is moving away. still not breathing while top runners pant past. why does this happen. lose more places crossing ditch as people seem to cut corner. onto muddy pebbly tow path. arms tired. couple of team members pass. spikes clatter over bridge. into deep soft mud of flood plain. isolated. big group stretching out ahead, no one nearby. wtf is going on. so leaden feel like dropping out. turn into wind. leaders have taken wrong line across open field. colourful tow rope straightens amusingly. over snow now and some very dodgy holes. out onto pavement for 30 odd metres. try to run more on heels. clatter clatter. pull up sleeves, don't need long-sleeved top. don't need this race. feel like crying. sick of under-performing like this. back onto tow path for second lap. clatter and curse across bridge. wobble through mud. overtaken. not so bad when it's by athletic-looking runners. slender gracefulness of runner suggests our common problem - too slender and graceful for the course. overtaken by someone who sounds like he's dying. dig in. not so far. wish i knew exactly how far. look at ground and run own race. takes me past him. hate duels. try to increase pace back along slushy path to finishing area. sod it, have closed on someone else. has a lot more left than i do - gets a warning and kicks away. cross magic mat that records time, which is up on electronic timer anyway. mud-splattered and shattered. why. guess the week's snow and today's mud have added to deep-seated tightness. team mate reckons position 40 something. our junior was our first finisher in 12th. team could do well.

team does do well. 5th. sadly suggests we could have stayed up. cross-country works brilliantly as a team event. if golf courses were liberated for use in a nationwide pyramid system of cross-country leagues, it could thrive i'm sure. better than road running in nearly every way. especially when you're wearing spikes.

.... .... ....

easy half an hour will do, racing saturday. through woods to top fairway. follow tracks of buggy or some such across to old sledging slope. yesterday’s lap in reverse? be ok if go easy. down not very steep ramp. huge snowman with hole flags for spindly, bendy arms waving fluorescent yellow handkerchiefs. whole thing is a bit shapeless really, and two fluorescent yellow golf balls nearby would’ve made better eyes than those bits of wood. pick up own tracks from yesterday. snow a little less deep, stride a shoe-length longer. tracks perfectly preserved all the way round. but whose are these .... .... .... round, roughly golf ball sized impressions all in a line, four gap four gap four .... .... .... trotting deer or fox or dog perhaps. puma outside bet. lap completed, find myself heading up invitingly pristine fairway. big digger in deep pit in middle of course. fiddlers, hope the copse it’s in survives. big crow in tree, big splat in snow as pass. try backwards running through undisturbed snow. think i heard the chinese are into backwards running. supposed to be beneficial, working different muscles, relaxing others, or something. might be in need of that. need to pee for fourth snowy run in a row. curious. ah, an hour. doesn’t matter.

faffing around

slither and slosh to and through woods. kfc box - of course, go sledging, got to take food. onto golf course. no one around. crunch of snow the only sound. down old sledging slope? i know, do clockwise lap of whole course and then go up it. crunch crunch crunch. snow not quite as deep as it was but still high-stepping like chojecka. call it hoyesking. hard work. stiffness barometers bit of a bugger. my favourite corner of the course. perfect snow sweeping out in all directions. circle red flag, spot own tracks, then sweep out too. could enter a trance hoyesking through the virgin snow. don’t though, try to do monday’s meandering lap in reverse keeping half an eye out for own tracks. hmm, more interesting tracks. deer? follow them instead. something else, shallow but clear claw marks, badger? ooh, very small flippers. quick look at castle ruins. sign warns of many dangers including collapsing cellars underfoot. more tracks, clearly deer, going same way as me. always wanted to run with them. cross to other side of course. lots more deer tracks, don’t follow into impossible thicket. start faffing around, running up and down and using own tracks to compare stride lengths at different speeds. follow unknown stream to see where it goes, goes nowhere, it’s just a drainage ditch. arrive at old sledging slope. looks the same apart from new, dark green surface under ice. make it up without slipping. sign at top says dangerously steep ramp, buggies stop here. decide to go back through woods. slight mistake, most of main path resembles mashed up christmas cake soaked in brandy. thoroughfare of slush, like the brandy butter lane. slosh and slither home. can’t believe that took an hour. well, maybe.

swiss valley

not quite as ineffably beautiful as yesterday. the sun has shown up, turned up the brightness and increased the contrast by melting salient parts. bit messy. snow is slightly crispier. big hill? go to woods first, less pavement. short route through woods, will probably go to hill; just wish i wasn’t aching so much. lane down from golf club looks like an ice rink. a-ha, can go across golf course and over new gate. snow here is the best. pretty much unchanged from yesterday. nothing hurts as chojecka (hoyeska) through it. find my prints from yesterday and faff around trying to run in them. better get on, half an hour later today. step aside up steep lane for audi estate coming down backwards. don’t understand cars. feet soaked up narrow path of pure slush. two galls at very top of slope moving faster than i’ve ever seen em move. coats solar-powered perhaps. bright orange sun. below, three human figures follow matt ribbons across shiny white field. snow has improved muddy downs way. still aching though. try to appreciate the way the canopy cocoons prettily after the turn. path drops precipitously before going on. looks dodgy. is. use wooden banister posts to tarzan swing down except with feet on ground. works perfectly. on to far side of hill. unfamiliar path looks wider and brighter than the usual one. follow it. mistake. every step unstable. nearly do ankle. path disappears. trees crowd and lower their needley snow-laden umbrellas. crawl out from under last umbrella and look back at impenetrable black and white wall. back on usual path. pause. suddenly notice trees all round sound as if they’re, erm, peeing, too. on to top of monster climb. swiss valley we used to call this, for some reason; not its name but view looks extremely swiss today. snow is deep and even but follow path of footprints. great sledging slope, never crowded. hmm. four or five giant snowballs with long green tails. first comes up to my chest. can’t budge it. very impressive but you’ve ruined some of the sledging slope, should jolly well put it all back. two blokes trudging up with plastic sheet. sledging even half the slope would’ve been a tougher session than the run. easiest running down deeper snow to side, which is fortunate although blokes don’t judder past. plastic sheet has got to hurt. down into pristine ravine, up ‘steps’. funny. snow steps on top of steps. breathing hard. harder still after steps end and slope continues. past flint tower. over other big slope can just see cluster of orange lights flickering. on up main path. takes an age. achilles stiffening. another mammoth snowball on the green. several cars parked in road, wonder if road closed. probably just sledgers. follow least steep path round to front. most slippery yet, worn shiny. whole town twinkling with orange lights. diagonal path down and across sheer front slope. always popular with adrenaline junkies whether it’s for sledging or rolling down or pushing burning cars down. no one takes me out. slope is half mud and grass. pass snow ramp that seems to have sent at least one sledge over the low wire fence and into the equally steep bottom half. another ramp at bottom of path. not sure how you would steer away from thorny trees. hmm, another car going down the lane backwards. turning at the top difficult perhaps. back across fields. bull in other field, gate closed. giant tv flashing away. drop rubbish snowball from bridge. quacks. sorry ducks. dark. back along pavement in orange light. think my feet are numb.

pretty deep

can i run in this here magical winter wonderland? start running. ow. achilles do not like slippery pavement. jeep thing shoots past through slush. dick. tread cautiously across slushy brown road. soon be in woods. flipping snow-laden holly. whacked and showered again. snow brushes off. and is no trouble to run on. testing bit. near vertical little climb to get onto main path. slip. slip again. have to use hands as well. no one saw. main path. cathedralesque. along, on up little lane... of course... step out onto, er, golf course. top fairway, highest point around. leap sinuously like a deer through deep deep snow to the slope we used to sledge down. kids at the bottom with sledges. how do they even know about it? just as well didn’t bring sledge. aim for coach road. coach road slippery, not so fun. leave for other side of golf course. deep and soft and even. drift around. hone high-stepping running action. feels lidia chojecka-like. stumble on little rise. sign says captain’s charity bunker. down to farest side of course. all seems bigger than i remember, scandalous that people can’t walk around the outside. into wind, first time have felt cold. angled mirror on top of tall pole. why golfers need that then? watching swing? no good for watching running action. continue meandering lap. bright red flag is fluttering in wind. love this. back to coach road. suffer it until stile. fields. easy to run on thanks to snow. deeply rutted track may as well not be. field, muddy track, stony track, lane, all the same. magic. rat run lane, slushy, slippery. back to little lane by woods. woman skiing down as leaning on man. see says man. down top fairway again. feet getting cold. starting to stiffen. back through woods or by river and mill? want to see what river looks like so on down little path at end of woods. don’t know if it’s silence or a dip in the light but am suddenly moved by the sheer beauty. it’s so snowy. footbridge. no snow or icebergs on river. three grown-ups with sledges on other side of bridge. cross bull-less field to wooden bridge by weir. giant tv is flashing in glass-fronted house. drop couple of huge snowballs into water. satisfying plumpf. back along pavement, seek out the deeper snow and realise i’m actually in the road. wish it could be today every day.