Commando was training for his first marathon. His first Sunday morning run of August was fifteen miles, his longest ever. He ended up, hot but otherwise unscathed from his long, long run. He did say his calves were a little achy so I added peppermint oil to some of my body butter and gave them a massage which he said did the trick. He could have just been trying to make me feel better though. Either way I was very proud of him. The next run was eighteen miles.
18 August 2013
Commando’s longest race so far is a half marathon so, to train for the marathon, he’s been religiously following a training plan on an iPhone app. The day after the fifteen mile record breaker he went out for his next run even though it was pouring with rain. At seven miles it was a short run. Funny how what once seemed a long distance suddenly seems like nothing once you start training for a marathon. He got so wet it looked like he’d been swimming and the rain had washed the salty sweat into his eyes which made him stop at one point. If it isn’t the humidity and heat making things difficult it’s the rain. These are the trails of a long distance runner I guess.
Early this morning we set off for the New Forest again. Commando had an eighteen mile training run and I was going for a three hour wander. Eighteen miles is a long way to walk, never mind run and things were looking set for a fairly dull day when we started out. Keeping the motivation going for such distances is not always easy so a bit of interesting scenery is always helpful.
There was heavy rain during the night so I wasn’t sure what the ground would be like. In the past I’ve had some very muddy walks in the forest. At least this time I was prepared, I had my waterproof hiking boots and my wind proof waterproof coat, not to mention my bright pink hat, just in case. Commando was all done up in his running gear complete with three water bottles, two on his belt and one in his hand. He wore gloves and wrist bands for wiping the inevitable sweat from his eyes.
“Do I look stupid?” he asked me, “because I feel a bit daft with all this.”
“You’re asking the wrong person,” I said, “I’m the one with the bright pink hat, blue rucksack and pink and black coat. I gave up worrying about looking stupid years ago and so should you. Besides you look fine.” I’m not convinced he believed me but, when you’re running for that kind of distance, what you look like is the least of your problems.
Typically, when we got to Lyndhurst, the sun had come out and it was sticky and humid. Humidity is not a runner’s friend, or a walker’s for that matter. Some more rain would have been nice as long as it wasn’t a torrential downpour like last night. I’d never have told Commando, but I was worried about him running such a distance in those conditions.
So we set off, Commando on the road route, me across White Moor. The plan was to meet back at the car park in about three hours. The grasa was pretty wet and spongy underfoot as I walked towards the sand dune. At least the wet sand was easier to climb than when it was dry, there was no slipping and sliding. Rain seemed unlikely, there was three hundred and sixty degree blue sky and white fluffy clouds.
At the top of the hill I met my first ponies. They were more interested in grazing than bothering me so I walked past unmolested. Not long after this a rider galloped past on the path, making me quite pleased I’d chosen the dune, grass option. Somehow I didn’t fancy coming face to face with a galloping pony and rider on the narrow sandy track although, soon, I had no choice but to rejoin it because the alternative options ran out.
Almost at once I could see the going was going to be tough. There were some rather large puddles. A family were coming towards me, a mother, father, baby and little girl. The little girl squealed excitedly when she spotted the big puddle and came running towards it and me. She was wearing pink flowery wellies and obviously wanted to try them out. My boots may have been waterproof but I am long past the age where splashing through a muddy puddle seems like a fun idea. I moved quickly to get past before I became a victim of her puddle splashing.
Putting on a spurt of speed I really didn’t feel up to I did manage to get past the giant puddle before the little girl in the pink flowery wellies began her muddy splashing. Given the size of the puddle I’m not sure the wellies were going to be much use and I didn’t envy her parents having to deal with the resulting muddy clothes, especially not if they had arrived in the forest in a car. Hosing down may well have been in order.
The fifteen mile mud fest with Care For a Walk sprang to mind. Then I’d almost lost a shoe in the mud and parts of today’s route (if I didn’t get lost) were some of the muddiest bits of that walk. Negotiating mud that bad when I was alone didn’t seem like a good idea. At least Commando would probably be mud free on the road. After walking for less than a mile, I had to stash my coat in my rucksack and even without it I was hot and sweaty, how would he be getting on running on the road with even less shelter? At least I had the woods ahead.
Not far after the puddle I came to the log pile. The fungi had certainly enjoyed Saturday night’s downpour. There were beautiful ruffles of bracket fungus clinging to the ends of the logs as if they were all dressed up in their finest clothes ready for a party. Earlier in the year these same fungi were everywhere in all shades of blues and greens. Now, just like the change in flower colour as the season progresses, they are oranges, yellows and creams. It wasn’t until I looked at my photos that I noticed the black bubbly fungus around the edge of the log, at least I think it was fungus, it put me in mind of caviar.
I wove a serpentine path along the trail skirting round one huge puddle after another, each a mirror reflecting the sky. Hopefully the road would be drier for Commando, although I thought he might welcome a drenching from passing cars. At the top of the highest part of the trail I sheltered under a lone tree and looked down at the purple, heather covered, valley below towards the woods. As far as I was concerned I couldn’t get off the moor and into the shade of the trees quick enough.
Ahead I spotted trouble, ponies walking towards me along the path, going at quite a speed. Did I mention the ponies scare me? The problem is, although it’s illegal to feed the New Forest ponies, people do and they are far too tame for my liking, especially when a whole group of them start crowding round. It may seem cruel not to feed them but they have plenty to eat in the forest and they actually belong to the commoners so they are well looked after, although semi wild.
Luckily for me they must have turned off along one of the trails through the heather before I got to them because, when I reached the bottom of the hill where they’d been, they’d disappeared. Looking down over the purple moors there was no sign of them at all. It made me wonder about all the signs warning to keep off this particular area of heather because of unexploded World War II bombs. Obviously the ponies can’t read and I guess they walk these trails all the time but the thought of exploding ponies was a bit of a worry all the same.
By now I was into my second mile and I imagined Commando would be into his fourth or fifth. Finally I’d reached the edge of Matley Woods, and took the trail around the edge to avoid the campers. It was cooler here which was a relief. Mile two went past quite quickly and soon there was a decision to make, there were two paths ahead of me, one I was pretty sure, led to the kissing tree and, ultimately, through the campsite, the other I was hoping would take me towards Deer Leap. I chose the latter, although I wasn’t exactly sure where it went and it was less sheltered from the sun.
Twice now I’ve walked with Pete and the Care For a Walk gang in the opposite direction so, in theory, I should be able to find my way. Every time I’ve tried this route on my own though I’ve ended up going in circles. Today I was determined to find my way past Matley Woods no matter where I ended up. Nothing looked familiar which was a worry but I told myself it was spring before and I wasn’t paying as much attention as I could have been because I was walking and chatting.
There was one dead tree standing amongst the carpet of ferns and I wondered what had happened to it? Maybe it was struck by lightning. A little further on I came upon a kind of teepee shelter under a holly tree. Who had built it was anyone’s guess but a holly tree didn’t seem the best place to me. Many years ago I went for a picnic in the forest in an area filled with holly trees. The lad I was with took great pains to spread his leather jacket on the ground for us to sit on but, between the spreading and the sitting, a holly leaf had fallen and he managed to sit on it. Apparently it was quite painful. I did try not to laugh. For some reason he didn’t find it funny.
My relief at finally making it to the other side of Matley Woods was somewhat dampened by the mud stretching before me. There was a trail, in fact there were two, but the mud was between me and them. I checked WalkJogRun to see if I could work out which of the trails went in the direction of Deer Leap but the sun was too bright to see the screen properly. Any Apple technical bods out there take note, it would be handy if you could fix this for the next generation. In the end I took a gamble and chose the route with the least mud.
Crossing the mud was a squelchy, tip toe, affair, skirting round the worst areas and trying to put each foot down carefully onto the most solid looking ground I could find. I was thankful of my hiking boots because at least I didn’t slip and I made it across with both boots intact, albeit very slowly. The trail, when I got to it, led through a grassy, rather boggy field with little islands of heather and the odd clump of spiky thistle flowers close to the ground. I was out in the open again in the muggy heat but I had my eye on the line of trees on the other side of the field.
When I finally reached the trees the little bridge I came to looked familiar, maybe I’d chosen the right path after all. If I had there should be pine trees ahead. The bridge crossed a small stream, all dappled light and reflections on the water. Unfortunately the trees turned out to be a narrow band along the edge of the stream and, in moments, I was back out in the sun with another field stretching before me. There were more trees ahead on the far side of the field but I could see this was just another narrow band with heather covered moors beyond.
So I was back out in the heat with at least another mile ahead before it was time to turn round. As usual I was lost. Once again there was more than one trail and I had no more idea of which to choose than I had before. What did I do? I’ll tell you all about that later.
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I love that first shot! And such nice nature photos too.
Thank you