Running with Siblings, Pacifist Deer and Titchy Dogs

Finally managed to persuade the little sister that getting up and running at 10am is not “unbelievably early” and that crack of dawn happened a few hours ago and she and her husband put on their running gear and trainers and joined me for a run.

The morning was a perfect Autumn one; misty, cold and bright. I decided that day-glo was the way forward and had on my hi-viz yellow top, Nike Capri trousers and neon pink compression socks.

Sister came downstairs and said “I’m not running with you! Look at what you’re wearing! What if someone sees us?” The cheek of siblings! SO I retorted “Well, I’m not running with you! What if you stop and walk! What if someone sees us?” Humph. Nothing wrong with being seen especially when you have to run on roads part of the way. And it’s purely by coincidence that I look as though a hi-viz jacket has mated with a jumble sale rail.

Got going and we dashed down the main road to St Cuthbert’s Chancel where the footpath starts and across the mud and under the railway bridge, leaping over the largest puddles.

Little Sis and her Husband. Little Sis demonstrating 'Jazz Hands on the Run'.

 We ran across a few fields and as the mist hadn’t yet burned off and the grass was all dewy, my trainers quickly become soaked and waterlogged. Not the nicest feeling early on in a run before you’ve even hit the 1 mile mark. Bizarrely I only had one wet foot – the right one. Going across the fields, my footsteps become “Squelch, thud”, “Squelch, thud”, “Squelch, thud.” I sounded like ET with a wooden leg.

 

We went past Pinford Farm and up the footpath leading to the deer park. As we started to climb the hill we saw a deer with giant antlers just a few metres away, however he was obviously vegetarian or at least a pacifist as he didn’t seem to want to eat me or chase me around at all.

Ran through the woods and as the path was narrow we spread out a little bit. The little Sis was bringing up the rear and not appreciating this so gave me a heart attack by screaming “Argh! There’s no “I” in team!!”  I felt the urge to say, “There’s a ME in team” But thought I might end up getting clobbered so slowed down and kept quiet. 

Trail through the woods.

We all sprinted down the hill past the shooting lodge. It’s compulsory to run down this hill as fast as you can. I always feel as though I’m going to slide most of the way on my face as my feet get overtaken by my body and can’t keep up but I reach the bottom of the hill just in time.

Passed a lady with quite possibly the titchiest dog I’d ever seen. It was very cute but it wanted to chase us and did this by getting under our feet. The owner - instead of calling it back - said “Don’t worry he won’t hurt you.” I wasn’t worried about that – I was worried about hurting the dog. I didn’t want to tread on it and squish it. Woman, call your dog back! I don’t want to be held responsible for the footprint I’ll leave on its head when I trip over it. 

Two deer had just dashed across the path. The deer with enormous antlers is hiding behind the tree on the right.

Little sis is doing really well with her running and I can’t quite believe she’s only been running for about 6 weeks – I’m a very proud older sister. She managed an overall speed of 11 minute/mile which included walking up some of the steepest hills and the route was very much cross country taking in a lot of grassy fields and mown hay to run across. She’s already managed a sub 30 minute 5km and is really enjoying the running club she’s joined. She’s going to start beating me at this running lark unless I do something about it. I can’t have her doing that so I’m either going to have to join a club and attend training or sabotage her in some way.

Now where did I put those tacks…?

Castles, Sherborne Gooseberries & Scrumping Apples

I was back in Dorset again this weekend. It feels wrong to be there and not go for a run. So I decided to head out despite the long runs in the previous week. The weather was a bright, crisp Autumn morning and although sunny, there was a bite to the air.

Despite my misgivings, I agreed to run with The Mr. He’s been running for YEARS and is a seasoned runner but as a rule I refuse to run with him any more as he moans, grumbles and then sulks (en-route) because I’m quicker than him.

Our last run together started with him falling face down in mud 5 minutes into it, then moaning about the puddles on the path. Then he got a stitch. Then he got a blister. Then he just wanted to go home. This was a 4 mile run.

However, this time I was impressed. He started out with a minimum of moaning (just a quick grumble because his Garmin wasn’t picking up the signal) and no complaining at all. Or falling over.

We pegged it down the side of the A30, putting our lives in our hands – and the hands of the psychotic car drivers – and skipped through the gap onto the footpath by Old St Cuthberts’s chancel and stopped to give the Garmins a chance to pick up the satellites.

We ran across the small field and hurdled a stile, adding nettle stings to our ankles. Still no moaning. Had to do a quick check to confirm he hadn’t fallen into the hedge or been left behind. Nope still there.

Under a tall stone railway bridge which echoed our footsteps on the dried mud path and into a grassy field. The grass was short and good to run on and we flew diagonally across it following the footpath and heading for a stile on the far side. There was a farmer driving a tractor wrapping the bales and the black polythene was loose and flapping in the breeze.

My knee twinged a little bit so I kept the pace steady and just enjoyed being out in the sunshine and enjoying the cool air. The next field was mowed stubble but the ground underneath was firm and nice to run on. Over another stile and into an upwards sloping field of mowed hay, dodging in between the wrapped bales and heading for the woods at the top of the field.

Through the gap in the trees and blinking in darkness for a moment until our eyes adjusted and then following a twisting, dry dirt trail path between trees. Ducking under branches and avoiding nettles and brambles and hopping over branches in the path. A perfect trail. Could hear vague muttering coming from behind but ignored it and concentrated on the trail.

We came out on a stony lane which emerged onto a paved road leading through the Digby country estate. Down an incline with the rolling grassy hills laid out in front of us like a landscape painting. Turned left onto a lane leading to a farm, passing trees on the verge laden with red apples not qute ripe enough for eating.

We dodged right before the farm, following the footpath through a field of sheep that scattered before us. A high stone wall barred our way and we moved through a high kissing gate designed to keep the deer in the park beyond. The grass was short and smooth here and it felt springy to run on but the incline was sharp and sharpened dramatically towards the crest of the hill.

The enormous hill (which looks quite mild in this pic!)

 

I kept moving up the hill, but gave in to the incline and wimped out and walked up it. Just as I got to the top I saw a couple of walkers coming the other way. I started running again but they called out that they had spotted us walking. Busted.

The trail went through another high kissing gate and down a shady path bordered by tall bracken and brambles. Over a stile and out onto a stony path and back into woodlands on the other side.

Simon in the background

I’ve run this trail many times but somehow I managed to miss the turning. I turned left into the woods and should have passed a barn hidden in the trees but the path I was following went straight on and bordered a field on the left and trees on the right with piles of sawdust on concrete foundations. There were several big oaks in among the younger trees and they sat squat and dark like bloated toads.

The foundations were from the Nissen huts as this was a Polish camp after the Second World War. The huts were there mainly intact, until about 10 years ago, painted black and made of corrugated iron with small windows. There was also a tall red brick building hidden among the trees, about 3 stories high with iron handholds going up the walls. My friend and I climbed the tower once when we were about 15 and sat on the top floor looking down and hidden among the trees. It has been knocked down now and there is nothing to mark where it once stood.

We passed through the woods and back out into sunlight at the top of a hill. Sherborne lay in front of us in the distance and a nice steep – down - hill directly in front of us. Bracken to either side with an occasional old, tall tree. Down the hill, my body wanting to go faster than the feet, storming past a couple of walkers eating lunch on a fallen tree and past the shooting lodge at the bottom, all boarded up with heavy pink wooden shutters.

Through another high gate and onto a long, flat track between wire fences with fields on either side. The dirt was dry and firm, but there were loose stones being kicked as we ran. Past the trees and past a metal trough that our dog used to love jumping in, and a vista opened up on the right.

A lake as blue as a periwinkle and a castle, with tall windows and green lawns all around it. Not one that a princess would live in – no turrets! But definitely one a prince or a Lord would like.

Past the castle and up onto a grassy footpath. A choice of the higher narrow path wide enough for half a foot or the lower grassy footpath wide enough for half a foot. Or one foot on each and a strange wobbling gait.  Into the trees and through the kissing gate surrounded by railings.

Simon 'enjoying' the hill

Down a steep grassy bank and yet another iron kissing gate and out of the estate by Perli. Famous – among school children - for its conker trees.

We followed the pavement all the way back to Oborne, passing – lots of Mums out with prams – and the Sherborne old castle – in ruins, a postman with a fully laden cart and a tree laden with apples leaning over the pavement.

In the joy of running I reached up and plucked an apple as I ran – saving it as my post-run victory treat.

A left off of the main road and onto the lane to Oborne. Meadows and a stream running down the left of the lane and houses on the right. A small girl cycled her bike across the road and disappeared into one of the drives. I waved at people gardening as I passed and called “Hello” but didn’t stop to chat.

Past Lower Farm where a plane crashed during the war and through the village where the stream widens and where we played Pooh Sticks as children. We used sticks – for the record.

Turned right into Stony Lane and onto the steep, broken path. It’s impossible to run this lane. I’ve tried many times but after pinwheeling my arms and spinning my legs like a Roadrunner cartoon, I’ve learned to be sensible and walk this hill. Besides, sometimes you miss things when you run. I picked up a small round stone the size of a small marble. It was a fossil cockle shell of a sort called Sherborne Gooseberries as they’re so common round here.

Made it up to the top and enjoyed the nice half mile downhill all the way back to the A30 between the high hedges and the occasional gateway giving a glimpse of the village laid out like a child’s playset with toy cars and houses on a patchwork of fields and lanes.

Another 50 metres up the A30 and home. Apple eaten. Goosberry inspected. Run finished.

Apples scrumped:                    1

Sherborne Goosberries:          1

Castles:                                    2

Falls in Mud:                            0

Blisters:                                    0

Miles:                                        6