on running

Wed, Nov 19, 2008

It’s hard to start something you’ve not done in ages, or years in my case. Running. I used to do a bit of fell running, even managing the Mamores once and I still have my old Walshes, which have lasted many many years and are quite simply the lightest footwear known to man. So one day, after reading about the OMM fiasco, it suddenly occurred to me that I’d like to take up running again. It keeps you amazingly fit and lean, clears the head, needs a minimum of gear and as I’m about to explain, removes you from the cares of the world.

At first it was brutal, as the circuit I use goes up to about 140m on hill paths above Leitir Fura and I had to stop several times on the 6km loop. Then, on the second time out I managed it non stop. The week after I parked on the main road and upped the distance to 10km and it was superb. Once you get going everything slips into place, or should that be pace? It’s initially on a landrover track, then heads straight up the hill on a narrow path with fantastic views over the Sound of Sleat. Then there’s a steep descent to the old village and back on the landrover track. A very nice 10km run.

But it’s what you see that’s even better. As you’re traveling at almost three times the speed of the other folk walking the route, you get to see three times more people and the variety is amazing. When you walk, you normally stay within the immediate geographical grouping of similarly paced walkers but when you run, you break free and pass group and group. Ma and pa and the weans out for a dander, the ubiquitous dog walkers, the old folk and the mountain bikers. You pass each group one after the other, with a nod and a greeting. Ma pa and the weans are clad in goretex while I’m trotting past in a t-shirt (I run warm, so stopping isn’t an option). The dog walkers are wearing Barbour (it’s above Kinloch Lodge, nuff said). An old couple holding hands and admiring the views. An old gamekeeper type, deerstalker hat and plus fours stopped and stared at me running up the hill, a huge grin on his face as I passed by. I suspect he was reliving his youth in his mind.

Sometimes I have to be careful, as when I came up the steepest part and a couple in front didn’t hear me. I said “morning” and they almost jumped out of their skins. “You should wear a bell!” she shouted! The detour into the trees and rough ground to bypass a family out collecting wood on the narrow hill path, the kids waving as I panted past. And the dog walkers. Man, the dog walkers. “Bessie, come HERE!”, the owner shouts as it chases me. They all do that. Without exception. I just ignore them and run on.

As you’re moving so fast, people who are ahead don’t factor that in. They judge the distance they’ve come and mentally calculate the time it would take another person to get where they are. And start doing the funniest things. Once when I got to the village, there was a chap standing on one of the ruins, leg up, shading his eyes, looking into the distance like Shackleton about to tackle the southern ocean, while his partner took a picture! They didn’t even notice as I ran past.

You see so much when you run and it feels so good to be moving across the hills with so little gear. A Camelbak with enough room for 2L of water, the car keys and a bar of chocolate. However, I have an old Camelbak Cloudwalker that can take enough gear for a proper hill run. I though about running up to the bealach below Blaven, coming down to the Camasunary track and back along the road. But I’ll need to practice a bit more for that and wait for Spring to arrive.

In the meantime the bug has well and truly bitten. There’s a rough hill path between Kinloch and Kylerhea and the views are out of this world…