Mud, Mud Glorious Mud

 

In general, there is a rule in the Belt household, that If it is already raining at the appointed time to go out for a run, that we don’t do out to deliberately get soaked to the skin.

On the other hand, if we have already started our run and it starts to rain sometime during the run, then that is just too bad and we soldier on. This morning it was gently raining when I woke up and it seemed to ease up a bit while we drank our wake-up call coffee. Looking out of the back window, it was deary yet not horrendous but the front side looked a little lighter. We went.

It was raining but I wanted to make sure that I got my run in. Steve is still having trouble with his tweeky hamstring and I selfishly, did not want to lose my training because he is resting off running right now. At my suggestion Steve drove to Arundel because I thought that it would be better to use the Mill Road run rather that in the woods when it was pelting down. Steve told me to go straight off and he would catch up when he got his bike out of Violetta the VW Caddy van.

 

Starting off along Mill Road, then along the moat path, where indeed it was lovely weather for ducks and they were having fun. I passed Swanbourne Lake and ran on to the Black Rabbit pub and restaurant. We went right through the long overflow car park, that had been the transition area for the 2019 National Aquathlon Championships, where I had a good performance, for and old bird and picked up the win medal for my age group. At the far end of the long car park there is a five-bar gate that leads onto a footpath that is pretty and grassy in summer and more than I bit boggy in Autumn and Winter.

 

It would still be a pretty path on a sunny day, even in winter but in the rain it was messy. Steve rode ahead as I followed behind, being very careful where I planted my feet because it was slippery. We had got almost to the end when there was a wider muddy patch and I sprang to one side rather than straight in the deeper part. As I started forward off the second stride to get back on the path the first foot slipped uncontrollable backwards and I went headlong into the splodge, surfing for several feet before I stopped. Steve heard my

landing utterance, that wasn’t that ladylike. He threw his bike down and came rushing back in panic in case I was hurt. Thankfully, only my appearance was damaged and I looked like a half-finished mud pie. 

 

 

One of my friends, who is also a runner, who swims and rides her bike as much as she can, instead of driving everywhere, but refuses to become a triathlete for some reason, is always telling me that at my age I should be very careful to avoid falling over. Well the thought and advice is kind but, well, nobody falls over on purpose do they. I do take the precaution of looking where I am going, step by weary step, and not gazing around at the scenery, unless I break to walk for a bit or stand to look at birds or deer. I don’t see what else I can do. I don’t intend to give up running until it should someday give me up.

 

As it happened this morning, there was no physical damage for which I do thank heaven. It was a fall and slide rather than a slap down face plant. Nothing hurt when I stood up and   was able to carry on with my run just a little heavier with the thick plastering of mud from my head to my feet. My trainers, Gortex running jacket, hat and gloves were all years old but the tights were brand spanking new and previously unworn, thankfully they were very cheap when I bought them in a supermarket last week, now well and truly christened. The rest of the run was back on road surface and uneventful. I felt in good form and was happy with my session.

 

Once home, I had to wash my kit by hand to get all the mud out and strangely, had to scrub quite hard because the half dried was so thick.