No really, oops.
I could tell you about my latest idiocy, or I could show you my shiny new hat. Err….. let’s go with the hat.
OK it’s not shiny but it is a new hat and I’ve finished knitting it. Here’s a side view:-
A very easy knit, by the way, although I won’t miss the endless rounds of k1p2. Pattern: Yvette. Yarn: James C. Brett Marble Chunky, a gift from a friend.
Oh all right, I’ll tell you about what a dork I’ve been. Once again, it involved running. This emerging pattern of stupidity would indicate that I should possibly stop running. Or start thinking. Or maybe both.
Anyway, it being a nice day an’ all yesterday, I decided to go for a longer, hillier run than usual, right out into the countryside. I had a vague route in my head, but was too lazy to climb the half flight of stairs to fetch a map from our mappy bookshelf and check. (Mistake number one.)
So I set off, with nothing apart from a tiny camera in my pocket. No, I didn’t feel the need to take a phone with me: why do you ask? (Oh, all right: mistake number two.)
The route wasn’t all that bad, actually. It was almost pleasant. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I enjoyed it, in the same way that I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I enjoy going to the dentist, but it was definitely fairly tolerable. There were spring flowers to photograph, and who cared if I got mud all over my trousers as I scrabbled on the ground to get the right photo angle, because I’d be back home soon and nobody’d see.
Pausing to take photos is a great excuse to stop running for a minute. You want lots of photos, don’t you? Those daffodils won’t photograph themselves, you know.
The blossom is coming along nicely:-
So I was concentrating far more on taking pictures than on where I was going. Also, a quick glance at a map would have told me that the route wasn’t quite as simple as I’d assumed. But I continued cheerily on. At least the view was pleasant.
It took me some time to work out that I was lost, as the realization slowly dawned that the route back to the village was proving to be twice as long as the route out from the village had been. But hey, the rules of physics can be funny round here, so you never know.
Eventually, though, I had to admit that I was lost. I considered cutting my losses and turning back, but that would definitely have involved running a really long way, and I didn’t fancy that. (Mistake number three, because these things are relative.)
I got to the top of a hill that I shouldn’t have been anywhere near, and paused to try and get my bearings. You’ll notice that it was no longer sunny and that birds of prey were circling, anticipating a large lunch of stupid runner:-
I looked and I looked down from the hill, but I couldn’t see our village anywhere. Hmm. I could see other villages, but it was as though ours had simply vanished. Like I said, the laws of physics can be funny round these parts.
The path bridged a major road:-
But I decided to carry on, optimistic that very soon a porthole in the space-time continuum was bound to open up and lead me straight back to our village. Unfortunately the universe failed to deliver this small gesture of kindness and instead I ran on and on, getting close enough to Blewburton Hill to tell me that I was now really very far indeed from home. Wittenham Clumps followed me across the landscape too: that’s the two tufty hilly bits in the photo below:
This was getting ridiculous (although it was also quite fun). Eventually, I got to the highest bit of hill I could find and stood, hands on hips, staring down at the Oxfordshire countryside, determined to find my village. It had to be there somewhere, surely? You can’t just lose a village. Well OK, I can…
I thought I recognized some landmarks, and even the next village along from ours, although they looked implausibly far away. But yes, that was definitely it. And then, far in the distance, I finally spotted a church tower that looked familiar. And around it, yes I knew those patches of trees, and houses, and roads. And following the distant jumble of buildings, I saw at last the tower of our house. Or at least I think I did: maybe it was a mirage borne of my delirious mind.
That was all very well, but getting back there was another matter. These legs weren’t built for running across half a flippin’ county, you know. They were built for sprawling across the sofa with my knitting draped over them. But other than going back the way I’d come (which would have been a really stupid idea by this point), my only option was to plot a wiggly route home across the landscape and hope that I was in fact physically capable of running that far before the circling buzzards and kites (yes there really were both – I’ve never seen them together before) got me. Ho hum.
So off I ran. You’ll notice that the nature photographs have dried up by this point. So had my interest in running.
The route I’d plotted from up high wasn’t bad, and was at least mostly downhill, but I hadn’t factored on THIS:-
Ah well, what’s a bit of fence-scrambling to add to the mix? Pah, it’d take more than that to deter me. (Not very much more, admittedly.)
I eventually made it to the junction of a very familiar main road. Phew! Usually I’d be whizzing along there in my car, but at this pace I had time to leisure to admire landmarks that I’d never before noticed:-
Each time a car zoomed past, I had to jump off the road and onto the muddy verge. You might think that this was a problem, but actually it gave me the excuse to stop running for a few seconds and try and get my breath back.
When I finally, finally got to the SLOW DOWN sign (ha!) at the edge of our village, I could have squealed with joy if I’d had anywhere near enough energy to do so. I was nearly home. I probably could have run the rest with my eyes closed, although let’s leave that idea for idiocy for another day.
And then, I was HOME. I’d been gone forever. One of the things that had kept me running was the concern that the Stoic Spouse and the twinnage would be worried out of their minds about where I’d got to. Nope, when I got in I found them messing about in the sitting room, having successfully forgotten about my existence and moved on with their lives. Oh well.
Now, you know I mentioned my lazy inability to climb half a flight of stairs to fetch a map before the run? Well that cost me. You see, I’m wearing one of those fitness gadgets on my wrist and amongst other things it counts how many flights of stairs (or equivalent) I’ve ascended each day. Know how many flights of stairs I climbed on that stupid run? Do you?
I shall say no more.