Saturday, 7 November 2009
Instead of an exotic bus trip, I took a lift to the sleepy hollow of Seaton Burn and spent the 10 miles running home staring at my shadow. I never knew my legs were so long or my head so small!
As I lay in the bath afterwards perusing the Fell Runners Handbook (as you do) it seems that you can't put on a winter fell run unless you build in some alliteration (see last entry).
Now I don't want to be getting all obsessed with all this stressed syllable grammar malarkey but Three Tops, Wrekin Wrecker, Hexhamshire Hobble, Copeland Chase; I ask you, is there a secret code buried in this well fingered tome; are some of the marshalls who stand at the top of mountains in all weathers more than they seem and is there an ancient soiled relict buried deep along the way which holds a terrible secret (there's a joke in there somewhere!) - If I find it, will I be able to retire as a gazillionaire if I can crack the code.....I think we all know the answer to that one.