6.22pm on Saturday I, and a couple of hundred fellow runners, set off across Dartmoor. Well, we set off from South Brent village hall on the way to the moor. It was dark and we all wore head torches. I had two, along with a small red light on the back of my head ("Careful, Lou; you don't want to blind the tail-runner" said my rude brother before sprinting off.) There then followed five miles of steep uphill, muddy fields of cow poo and a wobbly descent down what was either a stream or a flooded path. Entry to the race was a Christmas present. Actually, I was entered into the 10-mile but I got the fear last week and insisted on a transfer from wild night run to mild night run. It was a decision I did not regret. By lowering the bar, I could thoroughly enjoy the race and get back to the village hall before the longer-distance runners. That meant I could get in first with the brilliant physio for a very painful, yet very beneficial leg massage. Two days on and I only have a few minor twinges. There is nothing finer than running across the silent countryside and rinsing your lungs in clean country air - albeit it rather poo-ey. If you fancy something slightly different, I highly recommend the
wild night run. It had a lovely friendly atmosphere - and a very fine post-race lentil stew. Might go for the ten, next year.
Pic: The brighter, the better.
(Stats: 5 miles; 1.02.36; 12.31 minute/mile [I walked up a few of the steeper inclines so can only assume the barely controlled fall down the other side balanced out the overall speed])
