Digested read: my the Lakes are lovely. My TomTom didn’t work which means no Strava so technically I suppose this entire weekend of running never happened, starting with the Saturday. Oh well, worse things happen at the seaside. The run was lovely but quite rocky. Smilies are lovely and they rock too. We get to do it all again tomorrow. Hurrah!
You can see how lovely we are here. The shot is courtesy of the fine photographer man James who took heaps of amazing shots throughout the weekend. This is quite brilliant, as it means we can browse the photos and relive fond memories of the runs at will. So, as I was saying, here we are:
And that photo isn’t even half of us. About 70 of us made it up to the Lakes for this epic running weekend put on by the Lakeland Trails team – in fact it is the weekend finale for a whole season of trail running adventures. If you don’t know what it is, it’s basically a choice of four events over two days. You can choose just to run one, or two – hence dirty double, or if you are a Smiley on a mission you can get really filthy and do all four. Smilies have been patronising this event for a while now, so the event organisers
though perplexed, will indulge outliers by letting them enter whatever they want, after all a fool and their money are easily parted are happy to cater for bespoke arrangements given sufficient notice. I’d like to be able to make the point that this privilege was restricted to Smiley Paces participants only as a sort of VIP service in recognition of our unique awesomeness. Alas, I can’t really. It’s true the offer wasn’t disseminated more widely, but I strongly suspect that is a reflection on lack of other takers rather than Smiley exclusivity. Who cares. Smilies are a rare breed all the same! Go us. Or go them, the fabulous filthy four people, not me obviously. I mean why would I? Here they are though, for ease of reference. Maybe a somewhat manic look in their eyes, but I don’t think the lay person could necessarily tell by looking just how suggestible they all are. Maybe a hypnotherapist would know? I must ask my carpet cleaner. He did a weight-loss hypnotherapy group session and it was really good apparently, well worth the minor inconvenience of having to bring your own duvet. Lost loads of weight with no effort since. His insight on how it works is that hypnotherapists can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do anyway, but they can sort of help trigger the will power to do so. Even so, it seems to me strange how this quartet was running but the person whose bright idea it was to demand such an offering was mysteriously ‘otherwise engaged’. Definitely dark arts at work there somewhere. Oh well, ours is not to reason why….
I was going along for two times 10k, one on the Saturday and one on the Sunday, involving a boat, a steamer to be precise. But I’m getting ahead of myself. As far as Saturday goes, the Lakeland Trails website blah de blah about this event says:
Lakeland Trails in Helvellyn, Saturday 14th October 2017
Starting and finishing at Jenkins Field (CA11 OUS), on the shores of Ullswater in Glenridding, the NEW! 5km Helvellyn Sport Trail, 10km Helvellyn Trail Run, 15km Helvellyn Trail Race and 15km Helvellyn Trail Challenge follow circuits along well marked and marshalled footpaths and bridleways that take you into the foothills of Helvellyn, with elevated panoramic views of Ullswater, and dramatic vistas of Helvellyn and the surrounding peaks. Underfoot conditions are generally good for those used to off road running, but can be tricky in places.
A carnival atmosphere is guaranteed for both spectators and competitors, with live music, race commentary, food and drink all available at the start and finish. So, whether you’re new to trail running, an experienced athlete, or simply looking for an unforgettable day out in the Lake District, a family-friendly, festival atmosphere and some amazing trail running awaits you!
You can enter and find out more about each event here.
Fancy combining it with the Ullswater event the day after? You can enter the ‘Dirty Double’ weekend here.
Doesn’t that all sound lovely. But first things first. Got to get to the start line from the dorm first of all.
To be fair. The accommodation was good, even though there were eight of us to a dorm it is spacious, but I just don’t sleep well with other people in the room. It’s not so much that I’m disturbed by then. Quite the opposite, I seem to spend the whole night in that half-awake half-asleep twilight zone fearing dropping off too deeply in case I snore like a train and wake everyone else up. I have been told on different occasions that I’m ‘completely silent’ and ‘oops, yep, bit noisy there to be honest’, so I suppose the truth is somewhere in between. Even so, I’d hate to be driven out of the Smilies by secret ballot for anti social nocturnal habits not of my choosing. Or worse yet, suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, manifested in averted eyes, spotting groups whispering in corners that fall silent as I pass. The shaking of heads, the pitying looks. Smilies are too nice to be horrible to me because of any such failing, but I’d feel the burden of shame for having let everyone down. PBs missed because of collective sleep deprivation that was all my fault. No wonder I can’t sleep in a dorm. It’s a nightmare. Ironically, because even with a nightmare you’d get some kip.
Then there’s the ‘I’m bound to need to get up for a pee‘ angst, the horror of which was massively exacerbated by being a dorm with the squeakiest and bangiest door known to human kind. FACT. Once I’ve had that thought, speaking personally, it is just a question of how long I can reasonably hold out before giving in to the inevitable. I did have to get up in the night twice, and yes, it was just me. I am clearly inadequate as a human being. And even then there is the question of are you better off fumbling in the dark and risking even more banging about or falling over and on top of a slumbering running mate or do you risk sending a shaft of torch-light onto your dorm buddies even though the beam might cause them to recoil and vaporise into dust. I decided not to take the risk. I was quite near the door anyway, so that was OK.
Morning came, ready or not. I gathered up my gear and forlornly looked at my TomTom which had chosen this day of all days to go blank. It’s never done that before, and I stupidly hadn’t brought my charger with me as it only works through my laptop – which I also hadn’t bought) and I’d fully charged it before coming. A hard lesson to learn. Lovely smilies various did offer up tomtom chargers, but they seem to have new models, it was to no avail. Tragedy. La la la la, it’s a tragedy. Etc. Naked running for me this weekend then.
Amazingly, even though there was only two showers for a squillion people I managed to get one. It was hot, but only a trickle, still, at least I turned up fresh at the start, I don’t know that everyone else did. It’s not good when you have to do a DIY sniff test in the event HQ field at the start. Fortunately, we are all too polite and comradely to draw attention to any such miscreant behaviour at the time. Much better to passive aggressively mention it in a blog post later on say, and make out that no-one else within the Smiley tribe has ever been guilty of such an act pre or post chosing of kit for a run. I think so anyway, and I’m sure you have no reason to doubt me. You can see I was particularly poker faced about the whole thing at the time. Why would I lie after the event?
The shower bit was a win, but the general trauma of having to navigate a multitude of micro human interaction on waking, including breakfast was positively terrifying. After a number of false starts and being thwarted by the enormous pillar which takes up about 50% of the floor space in the communal kitchen and yet lacks a sign to indicate which is the correct way to go round it (I begin to understand why roundabouts in the UK are so confusing to those who are not previously acquainted with them). Eventually I found a corner on a table near another shell-shocked looking Smiley who appeared to be manifesting a similar stress response to situation. We ‘no speaking or even eye contact pre my first cup of tea’ people intuitively can recognise and find each other. We exchanged brief knowing looks and then sat in comfortable silence at opposite ends of the table ignoring one another. That true camaraderie when you need it.
Post tea and porridge, which was OK, but not as nice as at home in my own microwave in my own bowl, back to the dorm and communal decision making procedures regarding ‘what to wear’. Long sleever or short sleeve? Will there be a water station (nope). Shoes, which shoes? An extra layer of interest was the inspection of a room buddy’s blister. It’s not so much a blister in the traditional sense, in that it exceeds the surface area of a conventional compeed plaster, the large ones. It was such a significant expanse that a veritable collage of compeeds were required to cover the area. Think decoupage, or is it décolletage, I can never remember. It was very impressive though. But that too threw up more potential for concern. What if the extent of the plastering makes the shoes too tight? Nightmare. I may have been without my TomTom but at least my feet were currently unblistered. Count what blessings you can people. Take nothing for granted. Nothing I tell you.
After communal faffing had run its course, we started to head off for the morning. Well, those of us doing the 10k did, the others who’d opted for the 15km in the afternoon, well I’m not sure what they did, just didn’t I suppose. Not until later. They were probably still drinking gin, or maybe foam rollering, I have no idea.
It was ridiculously exciting walking down to the start. It was unexpectedly warm, light drizzle made rainbows over head and it was just gorgeous. This is an obscenely beautiful part of the world, it really, really is. There was a lot of water, flooding threatening to lap across the road in place, picturesque scenes and distinctive characters along the way. Also, some very well hung young rams. You couldn’t really not notice to be fair. Rather unusual colour too I thought. The wool that is, not the sheep’s tackle, I wasn’t going in for that close an inspection. Fixing the ‘caution runners’ sign on a bus stop struck me as a cruel irony, but there you go.
We got to registration a bit after 9.45 I think (our race started at 11.00 a.m.). The event HQ was all a bustle and very jolly in my view. The location is absolutely stunning, with boats in the water, fantastic mountain views all around and shafts of light coming through dramatic clouds to light autumnal trees in vivid golds and oranges was like a wonderland.
There were boards with lists of runners, and a course outline, you had to find your number and then join the relevant queue. We picked up numbers and were issued with ankle tags. I wasn’t clever enough to work out how to put this on unaided. To be fair, I think it did require training to become adept at this. Once you know it’s easy enough but it wasn’t obvious immediately. Maybe it would be to those used to being electronically tagged but that didn’t apply to me. Also I have tiny ankles. No I really do. I just looked needy until someone offered assistance, by which I mean they did it for me. Thanks Cheetah buddy. Then minutes later I brazenly helped someone else with what I hoped was the sort of confident and authoritative approach that suggested I’d known all the time and was massively competent at this whole race prep malarkey. Pretty sure I pulled that off. She had to help me pin my number on straight though, so I it seems I am still ‘work in progress’ regarding my safety-pin use NVQ. One day I’ll get there maybe, if I really try to apply myself…
Numbers on, baggage dropped, there was plenty of time to go for an explore. There were lots of loos, but alas they were not quite like the luxury portaloos in attendance at the Sheffield TenTenTen last weekend. At least one Smiley, who shall be nameless was horrified by them. It is true, it was something of an act of faith to take a pew over the open-pit below, there was no discrete barrier between yourself and the effluent of a thousand previous runners. You do have a somewhat irrational fear of falling in, but given I can hardly climb into a hoop these days it’s fairly low risk I’ll plummet down a toilet bowl. Brilliant for the comedic value of hearing about the outrage of an exiting Smiley declaiming at inappropriate volume ‘never have I seen so much shit! I have had to perform on someone elses shit! Can you believe the shit in there!’ and so on. Bit of a theme there. I’m more of a half full person myself. At least we had the loos, and to be fair they were most definitely at least half full. Still, it’s good that Smilies speak their mind, you know where you stand then don’t you? … Or nervously squat depending on the context.
It was pretty much idyllic if you stopped looking down the loos and instead took the time to look up at the sky. A rainbow, absent Smiley smiling down on us we like to think 🙂
Naturally, the setting required lots of photos and the taking of a great many selfies, as well as asking for outside assistance for group shots. Handily, the jauntily legged photographer was obligingly taking loads of awesome photos and happy to help us too. He took this one of me.
At the time I was taking this picture I think:
He wins with his shot. Not only because it has the captivating image of a Smiley within it. He got my best side too. I have a feeling he may have taken photos before. We got him to take one of me and Cheetah Buddy, contemplating the muddy road ahead, but that is still to come, meantime here is one my Dig Deep buddy took of us instead.
Nice photography man James Jumpy Kirby also had the best leggings ever. A bespoke item of couture that is genuinely unique. I had running kit envy I will admit. Still, it’s not a look everyone can carry off, so maybe the world has been spared the sight of me flaunting them in public.
Anyways, after our private photo shoot, he said he was seeking a smiley group shot, so I undertook to try to corral as many as I could. It’s not an easy task, but I achieved moderate success. Unbelievably, this picture is only half of us who went for the weekend. It is quite extraordinary when you think about it, that 75 individuals would make the collective trip from Sheffield to Glen Ridding for this weekend away. It makes my heart swell with pride to be part of this amazing group of women. Smiley Paces solidarity and support is remarkable, infectious and life-affirming. Go Smilies indeed. We can be a force for good in this world collectively, we really can. Or at least have a lot of laughs along the way, which amounts to the same thing.
It is a rare thing indeed for me to be in a Smiley group shot, as usually I haven’t got back in time from the run to join the after snaps, so this picture makes me especially happy.
Then there was lots more chilling and milling and chatting and selfie taking as we made our own entertainment before the off.
As the starting time drew nearer the atmosphere built. There were drummers!
Instant party, I’d have been up for strutting some funky stuff, but alas, didn’t realise the party was happening elsewhere until later. Still, there’s always next year I suppose…. I’ll know who to hang out with for the ‘dance like no one is watching‘ detail. Happy to embrace being a part of that. I really liked the drummers, I think they would be a boon at any event. Note to self, must tell Round Sheffield Run people. They can’t rest on their organisational laurels for ever. A small army of drummers is clearly the way forward for future event village entertainment innovations.
I’m not sure they should have been displaying this disinhibition quite so close to the baggage sign however. Bit of feedback for you for next time perhaps?
Eventually, the shout went us to get us to the start funnel, and there was a cheery count down to awf!
It was fun yomping off across the grass. Music was playing, there were some supporters lining the route. It was all very good-natured. We yomped back on ourselves round the field, and then quick bolt across the road past waving marshals, and soon we were heading up hill. I don’t know why it is that I continue to be caught out ever single time I do an event by two particular things which are annoyingly commonplace, ubiquitous even. Firstly, you are expected to run! Right from the start. No really you are. And secondly, that it often necessitates running up hill. Despite the alluring vision of the gorgeous mountains all around us, I still felt the element of surprise as the realisation dawned that we were being required to run up one of them.
I tried my best I really did. The surface under foot was quite hard for me. I love my innov8 parkclaws but their cushioning is limited. The path was stones, and fractured rocks. Often running with water. Very little mud actually, and the first part was really a grit path.
One boon about a mass Smiley presence at an event, is that rather like rats in a city, you are never far from a Smiley on a run. This is mostly fine, but it does mean you get caught out slacking rather quickly. Quite a few overtook me early on, but I think I blagged it OK, but explaining I was just waiting for them to catch up with me so I knew they were ok and then I’d let them get ahead a bit so I’d have something to chase. They are bound to have believed that line aren’t they? A trusting lot Smilies, not infected with the bitter cynicism that generally infuses me. I can use their good naturedness as cover for my dark inner soul, so that’s good.
The hill went up and up. One car cautiously pushed through down the road – I think it was probably full of other runners going down to register for the afternoon race. They waved at us cheerily as they crept by. I was naked running without my Tomtom so had no idea what was going on. I don’t really think I look at my watch when I run, but I like to have it so I can see retrospectively the route and elevation. However, I’d forgotten that my TomTom vibrates every mile, and that’s really good for knowing how far you’ve gone and how far you’ve still to go. It was weird having absolutely no idea of time or distance that had passed, especially on a completely unknown route. Still, Smiley buddies in abundance helped rally the weak:
There was lots to look at to distract me though. There was the cowbell ringing marshal, some random guests at a cottage en route, laughing in disbelief but cheering with enthusiasm as we sped (ahem) by.
One passer-by saw me slurping from my water bottle and thought I was having a drag on an e-cigarette mid race. Not an easy mistake to make. I think from his tone he was more impressed than judgemental to be fair!
Onward I went, trying not to be discouraged by sight of runners other side of gushing torrent of a stream, high up on the hill, snaking across the mountain side like a trail of soldier ants.
They looked amazing though, like a stretch of colourful bunting flags draped across the mountain side:
We carried on alongside a bulging stream that raged past in a positive torrent. Then over a little bridge and turning back, but along the steep and rocky mountain path. It was very beautiful, but extremely wet. Running water basically. As I pushed onwards, cautiously, I met a fellow Smiley turning back as vertigo had got the better of her. A DNF is always a sad, sad thing, but we had plenty of photos early on so that’s a run really is it not? And a DNF is way better than a ‘fell off the cliff edge’ or ‘remains frozen to the spot on a mountain ledge three days later’ which are the alternative options as I understand it.
The really narrow steep bit had to be picked through at a walk. This was companionable, as you could chit-chat a bit with other runners as you were practically stationary anyway. I met again the nice lady I’d been talking to in the loo queue earlier.
Then there was the super friendly marshal with his hi-vis wearing sheep who was a personal favourite of mine going round. That’s really making an effort marshaling wise isn’t it?
It was pretty steep to be fair. Some runners ahead were holding bits of bracken for reassurance as they crept along. Not sure that having your fingertips gripping the end of a frond of bracken would offer much in the way of brakes in the event of a fall, but it seemed to bring psychological comfort, so that’s grand! This runner looks like he was managing without hanging onto foliage as he ran, but you can see some of the lovely colours of the burnt orange autumnal bracken, and that’s the main thing. Obvs.
As I yomped onwards, alas I came upon a sorry sight. Two of the fearsome filthy foursome smilies had abandoned their run and were with an injured participant. They were walking her down, trying to cheerily chat with her having got her nicely wrapped up in a foil blanket. She’d had a bad fall and rather spectacularly broken her wrist. I offered help but was assured there wasn’t much I could do beyond making sure the marshals ahead were aware of what had happened, which they should have been already. It did feel wrong leaving them, but logic dictated there was no point in me staying too. It was a harsh reminder of the need to respect the environment, and how quickly you can get cold if you do have to slow or stop. I decided to concentrate a bit more and left off taking so many pictures until the terrain was a bit more predictable.
Marshals came and went, views were consistently spectacular and the wind picked up and dropped. Water continued to gush from everywhere, like running across the deck of a sinking ship maybe… bolts flying out of the wood as the water pressure builds and the boards awash with white water.
Ahead of me other running buddies were also pausing for selfies and nearly stepping backwards off the edge – how I laughed! I shouldn’t really can end badly like that poor student at the Seven Sisters cliff edge the other week… I did offer to take a photo for them too, before skipping onward myself, past the teasingly positioned bench placed at a handy view-point, daring any runner to stop and soak up the scene in favour or running onwards….
Finally we started to descend. There was a brief interlude along a nice bit of woodland track before ae tell-tale but appreciated ‘Smile’ sign so you know what’s coming.
Quick pause to hoik my knickers and put my camera away so I could look ‘natural’ running round the corner and into frame … I think I cracked it. It’s all too easy for the shallow, ignorant and ill-informed to ridicule the running style of others. I find levitating the more challenging sections of terrain reduces the chance of concussion related running injuries. I do concede looking around seven years old as a consequence is an unfortunate side effect, but we runners are prepared to make sacrifices to achieve results. Just so you know:
Whilst I went for the nonchalant and unaffected running look, others with more exhibitionist tendencies shamelessly played to the camera. There were a few contenders for the ‘seen a photographer’ award but these are my personal favourites. I particularly like the departure from convention with the jumping with poles shot, the artistic challenge to conventional boundaries in personal space where the guy leans in to the photographer daring him to hold his nerve and the team shot. Glorious. Bravo all of you, and thanks to everyone who made the effort on the day. Was great fun choosing my favourites, a fact which I’m sure will please you one day, if you ever get to give it even a moment’s thought in passing.
Obviously, Smiley Club members were all hard-core runners speeding by with awesome running form. Look at them go. It is a fact doing jazz hands makes you go faster, so does smiling and waving, that’s why we are all so awesome in our running performances:
Run shots secured, the end of the run came quickly. More cheery marshals and we were onto a section of road.
Up until this point I’d been running with two other women who I’d assumed to be friends what with their raucous laughter and joint selfie taking on the way round (women after my own heart). However, as soon as we got onto the rough tarmac, one runner shot ahead abandoning her running buddy entirely calling out by way of explanation ‘she’s a pain in the neck‘ as she did so. I was shocked, and looked it. I mean only minutes earlier we were all looking out for each other – she even alerted me to the fact I’d got a bit of mud on my legs going round at one point. That was sporting.
She repeated ‘she’s a pin in her leg’ it means I stay with her when the ground’s uneven but she’ll be Ok now’. Oh Ok. That made more sense. We all found our own rhythm and were soon separated once again.
There followed a bit of road running, never my forte, but I had to abandon all hope of slacking off as I espied woodrun leaders walking in nonchalantly. The more naive Smiley may have thought they were there to offer support, and indeed they attempted to support this cover story by clapping and cheering as I passed – but I suspect we woodrunners were just under surveillance. Those accelerate spies are everywhere!
A band of other Smilies were along the path and lined up to give me a high-five en masse. Love Smilies. They were horrified that I wanted to stop and photograph them afterwards though. Different priorities I suppose…
Suddenly the end was in sight. over the road, down the tunnel of innovate flags, arms outstretched for a glorious finish..,
What a misdirection of effort that was! It wasn’t the finish at all, we were made to do an extra keyhole shaped loop round the field and back on ourselves which nearly ruddy killed me. I had to hide briefly behind the tree at the far point so I could get my breath back before coming back round to the finish tunnel. I think I got away with it, phew… That was a nasty surprise though. I thought the hill at the end of the Wingerworth Wobble was bad, but at least we were forewarned about that! This was finish route by subterfuge. Not good!
Oh well, it was worth it, cheered in, and into the arms of welcoming marshals to relieve you of your tag and placate you with a T-shirt. It was green this time, different for each race. This is an acceptable colour I think, though I have a great many race T-shirts I’ve never been brave enough to wear in public due to their fluorescent overtones. The lime green Sheffield Half T-shirt being particularly vile even amongst the vile. TenTenTen from 2016 is probably the best.
Into the tent to get my bag and jumper and there to my surprise and delight I encountered the two saviour smilies who’d walked down with the fallen.
They’d pretty much had to come the whole way down, but then were able to race to finish. TEchnically not the intended route, but well deserved. Hurrah! No need to write an article for Runner’s World explaining why methinks. I was delighted because I was worried they’d still be stuck out there waiting for mountain rescue and miss out on the chance to belt round the Filthy Four. They were in surprisingly good spirits, so that was fine.
I commiserated with them that they maybe hadn’t had the race they’d wished for. This got onto the topic of ‘really annoying things other people do at races’. Apparently, one of the worst things for one of these two, is someone running with loose change in their pockets, jingling away. Capital offence at least in terms of its annoyingness. This neatly segued into my suggestion of cheering the mood by indulging in ‘fantasy rage scenarios’ i.e. when you fondly imagine what you would have done if only it were possible, socially acceptable and/or legal. Or at the very least you thought you’d get away with it undiscovered. To my extreme disappointment, they initially misjudged my suggestion, taking it to be the altogether nicer ‘let’s change the subject’ and talk of ‘Fantasy Race Scenarios’. As if that would be any good when you need to allow a fellow human being the catharsis of expressing their rage. Besides, we already have a fantasy race in the form of the aforementioned Round Sheffield Run – though even that could be improved with more unicorns and rainbows (which I’ve fed back every year to a wall of silence) and the attendance of a band of drummers. I soon put her right, and we had a great time thinking of appropriate ways to act out ire. It’s not appropriate to go into them all here, but the notion that loose change in a pocket might spontaneously heat up into liquid metal, run down the legs and reform into an ankle shackles was pleasing. It would have the added bonus of preventing offenders from running onwards, so very practical also. I was very glad to be able to drag down my fellow smilies to my pond life levels of social interaction. My work is done.
By now I was feeling the cold, so I just cheered a few last runners in, and then began the walk home with two of my car share buddies. We were in dire need of coffee, but decided to walk towards the Youth hostel to find some, rather than get further away into town where to be fair the options were much better but it would take longer to get back and changed. The options weren’t many, but we found a post office come shop that sold pretty much everything, including surprisingly serviceable coffee, which you bought in the store and sat and drank in a sort of converted garage space next door. Not the most salubrious of surroundings but acceptable all the same.
Coffee drunk, back to the hostel where we cleaned off our shoes and left them in the ironically titled drying room. To be fair it was warm in there, but nothing really seemed to dry. I suppose it was a tall order given the number of soaked items of footwear festooned around. Enough to cure a shoe fetishist by sensory overload surely?
I was very glad of a hot shower whether just a dribble or not. Lunch was bread and cheese and peanut butter yum. Then a snooze, pleasantly interrupted at intervals by returning smilies who could regale me with their adventures from the day. There may have been a little bit of opportunistic T-shirt stroking as well now I come to think of it. Well, it was a Les Brutelles one, you have to don’t you?
In the evening it was one mass communal meal. A practical option, if not the most inspired of menus. Then there was chatting, sharing stories and general spreading of Smiley good will. I opted for an earlyish night and dorm chats like a sleepover for grown ups, others revelled through to the small hours having come supplied. And quite right too! I’m sure gin counts as a carb, and carbing up was needed if you were doing it all again come the morrow.
So that was it for Saturday. For the morning runners anyway. Other runners were available, there was a veritable plague of Smilies out on them there hills at times! Even with some disguising themselves in mufti, we were still a force to be reckoned with, although thankfully a benign one in the main.
I’m not really fussed about times but full 2017 Helvellyn results are here for those of you who mind about or even notice such details.
Oh, and as for the route? Well, as you know I had an epic fail where route recording is concerned so I’ve had to steal a Strava screen shot from a woodrun buddy – frankly from my point of view it’s probably a blessing not to have my noticeably less impressive rendering of the route posted on-line for posterity. Hopefully casual readers will assume this is me. Massively improving my running recently. Inspirational stuff even. Go me! Don’t let on dear reader, please don’t…
It was actually a bit short of 10k, coming in at 5.3 miles (don’t know what that is in kilometers and can’t be bothered to google it) with 1,074 ft of elevation. So now you know.
Run one down. And you know what. It was glorious. Tomorrow, you get to do it all again. Fabulousness upon fabulousness, how lucky are we.
So well done Smiley Buddies one and all. This going en masse to the Lakes malarkey is a very fine thing indeed. How lucky are we to have one who moves amongst us willing to put in the work to make it so. Smiley Magic Maker – we salute you!
Who knows what tomorrow may bring… patience people, the time will come!
For all my Lakeland Trails related posts, click here and scroll down for older entries.