Trail run, Monday 2nd May

Last Saturday was the first time I'd run off-road in some while, and it reminded me what I'd been missing, so on Monday I headed in the direction of some of my favourite, easily accessible trails.

I think I first discovered how easy it was to get to Birley Edge walking back from my sister's at Fox Hill, the path disgorging me from the fields onto the Baxter Road cul-de-sac near the bottom of Fox Hill Road, less than 2 km from where I live, so it quickly became a favourite dog walking route and - when I began running and got to the stage of being bored with the relatively flat routes, that too.

Monday was (and I know I probably overuse this phrase) perfect running weather. There was no wind at all, and it was cool enough to have no worry of overheating whilst being just warm enough to not feel the chill on bare limbs even before the blood began to flow. The sky was a hazy grey, but it looked as though that might slowly burn off.

I started at an easy warm-up pace down from Hillsborough, the streets bank holiday quiet, up the incline of Penistone Road North and Fox Hill, then I turn and there are the startlingly green fields. I'm not sure what this crop is, that I've seen in so many fields in the area. Perhaps it will be the bright yellow of rapeseed flowers in a few weeks.

The path forks, one part going up the middle of the field, but I took the more trodden part by the edge fence before it began to turn up the hill, the start of an almost unbroken climb of 200 metres over the next 4 k, where Woodhead Road separates Wheata and Greno Woods.

I'm soon out of the field onto what I think of as a "trail"; rough, sandy soil, embedded with a mass of broken rocks, surrounded by gorse and grass and ferns. I've run and cycled so many similar around the city, from here to Rivelin, the top of Wyming Brook, Lodge Moor, Redmires up to Stanage Pole, Ringinglow and Burbage, this kind of trail is one that defines out area. 

I started running quite late in life, in my 41st year (as a lifelong cyclist, I'd always turned my nose up at this slow, sweaty endeavour), but quickly fell in love with it - and even more so when I left the predictability of the pavement and took to trails. As well as the scenery and lack of traffic, there's something about the focus required by having to watch your footing amongst uneven rocks and grasping roots.

Soon enough I was on Birley Edge, the dry sandy trail running below a broken-down drystone wall, with a view of the city behind me and to my left the fields around Worrall, Oughtibridge and Kirk Edge, below clouds made of tarnished pewter backed by a silver glow.

The only roads to cross are on the first couple of kilometres of the trail - the all-but deserted Midhurst Road and Stubbing House Lane, and then near the top of Oughtibridge Lane, or Jawbone Hill - then you can stay on trails for miles and miles, all the way out past Wortley and Oxspring and Penistone if you want, without ever having to take to tarmac. 

Approaching Jawbone Hill, you start to enter woodland, at first straight white birches in a carpet of grass and ferns, and then you cross a stile and the forest begins to become more mixed, ash and oak, alder and sycamore and hawthorn. The path splits in  many directions, and I take that that continues to wend its way forward and up hill. I sometimes forget how blessed we are for footpaths around here. The trail broadens and I start to encounter people, almost all seemingly couples out for a stroll on this fine if cool bank holiday. At the highest point is the car park by the Woodhead Road. I could cross into Greno Woods proper, where many trails snake down toward Penistone Road, but I'd have to return to pavement to get home (or come back up that hill!). I could turn down the broad paths directly into Wharncliffe, but I continue forward, turning by the little farm to skirt the woods and the field.

I unexpectedly find an alpine meadow opening up in front of me, backed by the tall, straight spruce and pine of Wharncliffe plantation. Before getting back to the woods there is an odd area of moorland, out of place somehow like a bit of Burbage transported north. I take the path that skirts this instead of crossing it, for no reason other than the whim of my feet. Getting back to woods, I find the most joyous track of my run. Just below the a high drystone wall, it is at times barely a game trail, winding and uneven. The soil here is a rich dark peaty loam, but is still studded with boulders which along with the gradients make it unfarmable, the reason we have so many intact paths. This stretch of track is just tremendous, as I find myself leaping over rocks, no doubt grinning like a fool at the feeling of exhilaration. In wet weather these little paths become horrendously boggy, but it's been so dry in recent weeks that, between the rocks and roots, the loam is delightfully spongy.

I switch between the trails and, when I must, the major named paths - Old Yew Gate and Pales Wood Gate - sharing the latter with the a few groups of walkers or cyclists. I've cycled these myself many times, although not the muddy, rutted downhill course that the hardcore mountain bikers have made. I grew up on a road bike, switching to a mountain bike only in my mid-twenties, and I think you don't start throwing yourself down mountains in the fearlessness of youth it's too late to start.

I'm only about 10k in, but I don't want to overdo and suddenly find my legs are done and I need to find a bus route to get home, so when I reach Plank Gate that runs along the bottom, western, side of Wharncliffe I sensibly turn left toward home. The flat firmness of the fire road bends in a long curve, rising and falling like a gentle roller coaster, bringing me back to Oughtibridge Lane where I cross into Beeley Woods. 

In recent years this has been parcelled up and sold off, and is marked as private woodland with the public footpath sign pointing up the hill and around, however the paths through ARE still public rights of way. I really must contact the council about getting the signage fixed.

Again, these paths so often become a series of swampy puddles in wet weather, but the descent among patches of bluebells is dry at the moment. After crossing the track that takes the train to the steel works at Deepcar, the gradient suddenly becomes precipitous and I let gravity take me until I have to slow for a family coming uphill.

From here it's a gentle, flat few kilometres home. I cross the Don on the footbridge by Abbey Forge and keep to the path on that last bit by the river before returning to the road.

I feel ready for a pint or two of Vimto, and to get some food inside me, but that has been ridiculously fun - something I would have thought insane had someone said it to me 12 years ago.

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed the reading of it even a fraction as much as I did the running and the writing of it.

Nine years running

 It's struck me that I've been running for nine years - and, boy, are my legs tired! Ba-dum.

I started running some time after my fortieth birthday, in the summer I think. As I turn fifty next March, I've decided to aim to run a 50k+ at some point that year to mark the occasion. The furthest I've ever run is a marathon - so 42.2 km - and that was the York marathon five years ago (five years today, in fact, as my Facebook memory reminds me).

I do run a half marathon just about every month, so with steady training it shouldn't be too much of a stretch. Events are always something to aim for so I may see if I can find an Ultra near me that isn't going to be too beyond my abilities.

Any advice for an event, or ramping up to that distance, will be gratefully received.

Friday Run: Beautiful Backroads to Bolsterstone and back

I've not been on a long run in a while and had planned one for today anyway, but after the team meal at Akbar's last night I felt the need to burn some calories. It also helped that it was much cooler, positively fresh even as the day reached noon.




As so often, I had little idea of which way I would go as I left the house - Rivelin Valley? Up over Loxley Common? Bradfield? Wharncliffe Woods? Toward Sheffield? A moments indecision and I set up Wadsley lane and the steady climb toward Worall, with that familiar view of the fields dropping down into the valley and the woods climbing the far side.




At Worrall I almost baulked at seeing how overgrown the path the Hagg Stones was, but pushed and high-stepped the couple of hundred metres through high grass, nettles and brambles before it opened onto the field beyond. I've never been entirely clear where the path goes across this field, but sticking close to the tumbledown remnants of the wall has always seemed the best bet.




Sharply down a hill then the path leads to Burnt Hill Lane which climbs for a kilometres before the turn onto Onesmoor Bottom and another couple of km of climbing. It is glorious here; it is rare to see a car, just the rolling fields and woodland stretching away on all sides. Cows, sheep and horses in occasional groups in the fields. The stiff wind whipped the dust from the back of a combine cutting back the stubble and some grouse chased in to pick over the remains




The sky is a in uneven quilt; one side different textures of grey, flat or roiling, the other gloriously chaotic stacks and rags of clouds bobbing like cotton wool or twisting up into the shapes of creatures of ancient myth. Further on it become more broken and leaks out golden light that will shower its blessing somewhere around Hoyland or Wombwell.




Here, the first spots of rain immediately fill the air with petrichor; thought it is now cool the ground is dry and hard still after these arid months.




The road crests and begins to descend, at first shallowly and then precipitously, switching back to mitigate the gradient. but I spot a path and this brings me sharply down the the edge of Broomhead reservoir by stairs and the roots of trees. The reservoir path itself I've walked and cycled, but i'm not sure I'e ever run here before, and I glory in taking its twists and turns, and, higher up, as it becomes a matter of close focus to step correctly between the gnarled roots and rough stones. It stays this way along the south bank, around the east tip, and all the way back on the north bank of the Broomhead, until a gate at the tiny Ewden Village leads out onto the road that continues the rest of the way down, past the lower More Hall Reservoir all the way down to the road at the bottom, this stretch of which is actually called Main Road.




I follow it back though Wharncliffe Side to Oughtibridge. The heaviest of the rain came down while I was in the woods around the reservoir, although it's still steady, so I decide on the cover of Hollins and Beeley Woods, running the path in the reverse of my usual direction. Surprisingly, I feel I have the energy to eschew the footbridge at Middlewood and carry on along Clay Wheel Lane, taking and extra loop down the the bottom of Hillsborough park before swinging home to bring the distance above 25k.




That was joyous. It took me perhaps 4 km to find my legs but it is far too long since I had a long, meditative run like that. And I think I burnt off *most* of the curry, too.




https://www.strava.com/activities/1762607185

Nice evening 15k to round off January

 The weather has turned suddenly milder after the recent cold snap, so it made getting out this evening all the easier.

I'd bottled out of running into work after a poor night's sleep so was pleased to find that, after a slow build up through the park, I settled into a comfortable loping rhythm. Out to Clay Wheels Lane then soon beyond the reach of the streetlights into Beeley Woods, the beam of my chest light bobbing ahead of me.

At Oughtibridge I decided to try the climb of Church Road for he first time in a while - not just up to Worrall, but arcing to the right up to Kirk Edge, the road a black line between the Stygian fields.

It's impossible to see the whole of Sheffield from any one point, nestled as it is in the fold of creases of its seven hills and their many valleys, but there are many high vantage points that give the illusion if you don't know better. About half way up the 230 odd metre climb there's a sudden view down this portion of the Don Valley revealed a stunning glimpse of the lights of the city centre and the climb toward Norfolk Park and Sheffield Manor beyond. But at the high point of Kirk Edge Road as I turn south to drop sharply back toward Hillsborough is one of those spots where it is easy to believe that the lights glittering like an armful of gems scattered over rucked black velvet is the whole 370 square kilometres of the city, and all of its 560, 000 citizens, but knowing that there are parts entirely hidden by the cunning folds of the land is part of the city's beauty.

I let gravity take me down the hill, trusting in my chest light and that any traffic coming the other way will be visible a long way off by its own light. I consider taking one of the turns that will drop me down into Loxley Valley higher up by the reservoir but feel the long straight of Loxley Road may be dispiriting if I lose my wind, so compromise by pushing for all I'm worth along the childs'-rollercoaster undulations of Myers Lane and am rewarded with a comfortable PR

More traffic on the drop down Long Lane than on the rest of the night-time roads combined, then onto pavement for the final hop over Wiesewood and home.

A gorgeous bit of night running. I'm sure I wouldn't appreciate it nearly so much in the early hours.



Listening: The Guilty Feminist, & The Infinite Monkey Cage podcasts



https://www.strava.com/activities/849661015

Sheffield TenTenTen

My third year at the TenTenTen, a tough little two-lap 10k in SW Sheffield.

Starting on grass for the first 0.5k through Endcliffe Park then a km of tarmac along the road until a short, sharp climb takes us up the the narrow, undulating, rocky, tree-root covered earth track through Bingham Park and Whiteley Woods. The first time around the large fled makes these crowded enough that the pace in constrained - at times even running two abreast is impossible - so when we crossed Porter Brook and got back onto the wider tarmac paths I decided to push the pace whenever I could.


This meant that my time for the first half wasn't far outside my 5k PB but when I hit that climb again I was feeling the run. The field had attenuated enough that the trail was less crowded so I had less excuse to ease off.


Back on the return leg I managed to keep a fast pace, down to 4:10/km, all the way around the tarmac and then the earth path on the North side of the park but, as we hit the last grass rise for the last few tens of metres, I couldn't quite speed my legs into a sprint.


Still, just snuck in under 45 minutes - 2 minutes outside my 10k PB, but this is not a course for PBs, so very pleased.

A right warm Yorkshire welcome - the Plusnet Yorkshire Marathon 2015

This was my first time running the York Marathon (in fact my first ever marathon) although I ran it as part of a relay team last year. To the complete lack of surprise of anyone who knows York and the surrounding area, this route is absolutely beautiful for the majority of the run: starting at the North end of the University of York campus at Heslington there is a brief stretch of suburban housing before heading into the centre of the venerable city, circling around outside the narrowest of the streets in the Shambles to pass York Minster, its bells pealing enthusiastically, before wending down Deangate and Goodramgate before passing under the city wall at Monk bar. This takes us through newer, though  still pleasant, parts of the city which quickly become spacious and tree-lined before, after another 3 km, opens up into fields.

On the map this stretch, out through Stockton-on-the-forest, looks straight and boring, but it does wend slightly and is quite lovely. A right turn takes the road on a climb and dip through a couple of delightful areas of mixed woodland, interspersed with open fields bordered with trees and hedgerows, and the tiny, lovely villages North East of York.

Getting on to halfway in, there is a long stretch of woodland, verdant in the October sun, before a hairpin into Stamford Bridge. Here, as all the other other villages we run through (along with the city itself) there is a nice turnout of spectators cheering us on and giving encouragement.

The stretch here may be the most scenic on the route. The view to the left, South East, over the fields that dipped and rose with a few fragments of the morning mist still clinging here and there, was sublime, and I ran for a while caught in a zen-like state between the beauty of the view and the meditative exertion of running.

Just after this is where I found it beginning the get testing. There is another out-and-back hairpin, but about three times the length of the one at Stamford Bridge. Perhaps due to being 27k in, there is something dispiriting about running along and seeing people coming back the other way, knowing you have to do the seem, as the kilometres clock up. It’s about 3 km each way, but felt a good sight more.

It was coming toward the end of the return that I started feeling fatigued, my legs growing heavy for the first time. I kicked them up behind me, gave myself a good talking to and sucked down an energy gel - all of which seemed to do the trick, as shortly thereafter i caught my second wind and ran the next 4k or so at under 5 min/km, compared to the 5:20-5:30/km I’d been running up until that point.

I’d started to ease off a little by the time we transitioned once more from fields into the suburbs of York, and the cheering of the crowds who had stuck around for those of us so far behind the elite pace was a welcome boost.

I was really flagging now, knowing I was so close to the finish but that this entailed a couple of sharp climbs. Plodding up the final climb, only 400 metres up University Road, i realised I might be able to break 3 hour 45 - a full 15 minutes ahead of my target time! cresting the hill there is a sharp turn and less than a kilometre downhill to the finish line so I dug deep and tried my best for a sprint but, as I passed the 500 m marker cramp bit into my left thigh. I grabbed it with one hand at kept going, crossing the line at 3:45:47, receiving a hug from a friend of mine who had finished a few minutes ahead.

In addition to being on the whole a lovely, scenic course, the route is quite flat with an overall ascent of only 160m. The event is extremely well organised - we started at the arranged 9.30 point on the dot; there are water points every three miles (including isotonic drinks at every other station, and gels supplied a couple of times in the second half of the race). The starting areas, baggage drop, toilets and other facilities were well signposted on the University campus. And the atmosphere was excellent - large crowds at the start, the finish and in the city centre, and what seemed like the majority of the inhabitants of the villages coming out on their Sunday morning to wish us well, often bearing jelly babies. Even the weather couldn’t have been better; bright and still and not too warm.