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I did a Big Walk today, my first in a good long while, and was pleased to discover that I can still do such things without ending up stiff, or falling by the wayside on the big hills. I didn't take my camera, because I've photographed these places so many times, but visibility was perfect. The sea was a lovely deep blue, and the cliffs and downs were strewn with brightly coloured flowers.
I am pleased to report that I have finally been reconciled to the dreaded New Boots. My beloved old ones finally became more hole than boot, and even a small dusting of dew gave me drenched feet. Not even the power of Sugru could repair them. I grumped and glowered at my new ones, which had a less rounded heel than my old ones, and in my mind, I'd built them up into great clumping ginormous montrosities. It wasn't helped by the fact that I laced them too tightly the first few times I wore them (my old ones needed to be laced tightly or I got blisters) and they pressed on my ankles. They're still a bit clumpy on roads, but are fine on soft paths. I've never got a blister from them. I hate to admit it about my beloved Old Boots, but had I done a walk like today's, after over a month without a long walk, I'd have finished with blisters.
Half of my walk took me around the West Wight triangle: about 12 miles around the perimeter of the pointy bit at the west of the island. Every few miles, there was a cluster of marshals and tables of water. However, although they were clearly following much the same route as me, I never saw any runners. I asked the Last Marshals what they were marshalling, and they said it was a half marathon. "It's over now, really," they said cheerily, "but we've lost 8 runners somewhere on the cliffs." Another one had binoculars, and reported that "the sweepers" were coming down from the top of the Downs. Is this the crew that goes round with broomsticks and gathers up the remains of the lost?
But why didn't I see any runners? There were chalk arrows on the ground, showing that they were going in the same direction as me. If they were behind me, they would have overtaken me. They might have been way ahead of me, but if they were ahead of me when I saw the first marshal, they must surely have been FAR ahead of me by the last one, but all the tables of water had eager water bearers, standing poised with cups. Where were the runners?
On a stile above the Last Marshals, a man was sitting. He was in view of them, I realised later, but wasn't facing them. Every minute, he clapped his hands three times. It was an out-in-the-front clap, not an over-the-head clap, as you would expect if he was giving a signal. Why was he doing it? Is this another example of the secret dwarvish sign language that we discovered the other week?
EDIT: I've checked the half marathon's route, and they did exactly the same route as me, at round about the same time. According to the Last Marshal, there were over 300 of them. There were two places where I cut corners by going to places where runners dare not tread, but only two, and they weren't long. I am really quite baffled by this. Even if I missed the main pack while taking my short cut, surely there must have been stragglers. WHERE WERE THEY?
I am pleased to report that I have finally been reconciled to the dreaded New Boots. My beloved old ones finally became more hole than boot, and even a small dusting of dew gave me drenched feet. Not even the power of Sugru could repair them. I grumped and glowered at my new ones, which had a less rounded heel than my old ones, and in my mind, I'd built them up into great clumping ginormous montrosities. It wasn't helped by the fact that I laced them too tightly the first few times I wore them (my old ones needed to be laced tightly or I got blisters) and they pressed on my ankles. They're still a bit clumpy on roads, but are fine on soft paths. I've never got a blister from them. I hate to admit it about my beloved Old Boots, but had I done a walk like today's, after over a month without a long walk, I'd have finished with blisters.
Half of my walk took me around the West Wight triangle: about 12 miles around the perimeter of the pointy bit at the west of the island. Every few miles, there was a cluster of marshals and tables of water. However, although they were clearly following much the same route as me, I never saw any runners. I asked the Last Marshals what they were marshalling, and they said it was a half marathon. "It's over now, really," they said cheerily, "but we've lost 8 runners somewhere on the cliffs." Another one had binoculars, and reported that "the sweepers" were coming down from the top of the Downs. Is this the crew that goes round with broomsticks and gathers up the remains of the lost?
But why didn't I see any runners? There were chalk arrows on the ground, showing that they were going in the same direction as me. If they were behind me, they would have overtaken me. They might have been way ahead of me, but if they were ahead of me when I saw the first marshal, they must surely have been FAR ahead of me by the last one, but all the tables of water had eager water bearers, standing poised with cups. Where were the runners?
On a stile above the Last Marshals, a man was sitting. He was in view of them, I realised later, but wasn't facing them. Every minute, he clapped his hands three times. It was an out-in-the-front clap, not an over-the-head clap, as you would expect if he was giving a signal. Why was he doing it? Is this another example of the secret dwarvish sign language that we discovered the other week?
EDIT: I've checked the half marathon's route, and they did exactly the same route as me, at round about the same time. According to the Last Marshal, there were over 300 of them. There were two places where I cut corners by going to places where runners dare not tread, but only two, and they weren't long. I am really quite baffled by this. Even if I missed the main pack while taking my short cut, surely there must have been stragglers. WHERE WERE THEY?
