Sunday, 17 June 2012

A run of many moments

I know I wax lyrical about most of my runs but there are some that just stand out from the rest and today's run was just that. The word of the day was Bimble * and that was exactly how the three of us wanted it, a nice gentle run which was first billed at about 6 miles which soon grew to 8.5 miles.

Our protagonists for this running tale were Liz and Bhundu who had rallied to the call that we were to relive the Hippy Hunt mentioned below. However after the start of our run it was soon found that they were not in their usual place having been replaced by some form of gymkhana. Not upset we went about the business of running with no real direction until we got to the end of a long path and I asked "Left or Right" and after a call for right the course was set for us to run with a purpose towards Chipstead Lakes. First though, we had to run through a wheat field which was waist height and the path just 12 inches...concentration at the forefront of our minds but shear pleasure as the wheat thrashed and rubbed our legs.

Resetting our legs we jogged off smiling at homeowners and with an almost consistent pace trudged through the farmers fields who this year seem to have widened the footpaths until we reached the lakes at Chipstead.

The Lakes
I was quite pleased to hear that Liz and Duncan didn't know of them until now so we took some  time out to stand on the edge of the lakes and enjoy the view, it was so, so tempting to jump in but today was not that day...but it was so tempting.

I have since discovered that these lakes were manmade in the 20th century, not surprising by the number of sand and gravel pits in the area but this one is 74 acres in size or approximately 36 football pictures. Quite a sight with the water rippling to make small waves in the fresh June wind.

We returned via a disused railway line and  so relaxed and unhurried that I took time out to reset the improvised stepping stones on the water crossing which were wobbly and loose, satisfied with the refurbishment we carried along via the Darenth Valley path. 

Our legs now screaming from the nettles and my knee bleeding from the brambles, we cared not a jot as the conversation was lighthearted and refreshing

In all, a lovely run, with no pressure for a pace or a set distance we just ran for running sake

* A gentle, meandering walk with no particular haste or purpose; To walk with no particular haste or purpose.

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