The Right Shoes

Two weekends ago, on Friday 13th, I was dropped off by a taxi in the New Forest at night to meet a bunch of strangers and a guy I'd only met online. What could possibly go wrong? Ill-advised jokes aside, I had no reason to doubt the credentials or probity of the trail running coach and company whose services I had booked for the weekend, but there remained many unknowns. I had not been running for weeks, if not months, and my nutrition had been poorer than usual in the run-up to a hectic Christmas. I didn't know any of my fellow runners with whom I'd be sharing the experience and even a dorm, and I also didn't know whether I was capable of running as fast or as far as the rest of the group.

Upon arrival, I instantly was put at my ease by my affable hosts and fellow guests. I was offered refreshment, and shown where my bunk and bedding were. To my surprise, most of the guests were women and all of us - men and women - were close in age. While many middle-aged runners have always been runners, I wondered whether developing a love of running at my age was quite a common phenomenon. As I chatted with some of my fellow guests, I could see that the lure of shutting the door on your pressures and responsibilities for a while, and finding solace in the outdoors and the peacefulness of nature was a connecting thread between us.

As I sat on my beanbag in the common room of the education centre where we were staying, and as conversation flowed, I began to feel I'd hit the jackpot in terms of happening on a great group of people and a style of break that would suit me down to the ground. But a couple of worries were surfacing too. The weather forecast was pretty dire, and I possessed no trail running shoes, just my beloved road-runner Saucony's. These shoes might have sufficed in better weather, but a consensus seemed to be building that given the poor weather we were expecting, I would fall over. Eek.

With immense gratitude, I learned that it isn't unusual for trail runners to bring more than one pair of running shoes away with them, and also that my fellow runners' kindness and concern for each other's welfare fortunately ran even deeper than some of the puddles and streams that lay in wait for us tomorrow. I was lent a pair of shoes and, dear reader, I am overjoyed to say that I did not fall thanks to my borrowed Salomon shoes.

We ran 8.6 miles on the first day and I think around 5.5 miles on the second day, running in the morning and returning for a welcome combination of tasty hot lunches, running masterclasses with Geoff that were relaxed, funny and full of great tips, and well-earned snoozes by the wood-burner. The wood-burner was brilliantly effective at drying out our wet shoes and this picture brings back happy memories of the company and kindness of new-found friends that made the weekend so special.

I definitely returned inspired, with a bunch of fabulous new friends and exciting plans to run again with them in the future, and to sign up for more Focused Performance events. I also returned with a dangerously tempting shopping list: grippy trail shoes, a fleecy ear-warming headband, waterproof socks, better rainwear in general, a few more base layers. To my surprise, I had found the poor weather invigorating; it was liberating to run through puddles and feel cool water and mud splash back on me (though I'm still embarrassed that I splashed one of my fellow runners as high up as her waist in my panicked haste to cross a stream at one point). I'm not the most confident person around water nor have I ever had a good sense of balance, so my successful crossing of a mossy log on day one was a welcome bonus. I definitely didn't want to have to repeat this daring feat on day two though. It might have been second time unlucky.

My overall feeling on returning was of elation, an elation that even a rail replacement bus for most of my journey home couldn't kill. It felt good to know in retrospect that I had completed my challenge in one piece but I realise now as I write this how much of the good feeling was directly caused by the experience of running in nature and, in this case, sharing the thrill of that experience with others. As of today, I've only tried trail running the once (well, twice if you count our two runs) but it already seems clear to me that trail running is a tonic for mind, body and soul. "This is bloody lovely!" one of my fellow runners exclaimed with glee as we set out in the rain on our first run and I found myself in complete agreement with her. I'd say I can't wait to do this again, but it's two weeks later and, as yet, I haven't. Sometimes we need to order ourselves to tie our shoelaces and go after that feeling, knowing it awaits us.