No dodgy sketches then of me with a 70’s beard, naked with an unnaturally hairy female friend . Forget the joy of sex; I’m talking about (solo) fell running which at three or four times a week in the summer and once or twice a week in the winter clearly counts as a regular happening on my events calendar and, yeah, yeah, yeah I’m setting myself up for a ‘solo’ sex joke of some sort I know (“sex is okay but nothing like the real thing” etc).
Sooo…… back to solo fell running which I just love to bits. Its funny but until this year when I’ve properly raced in the fells a fair few times, I’d have said that running on my own up in the middle of nowhere was what fell running was all about rather than full on fell races, albeit over some unbelievable courses and terrain. There’s obviously so much more that you can control when you’re on your own and of course get wrong. Each run can be a huge adventure or disaster or both. Working out routes on the hoof, getting lost, biting off more than you can chew, getting injured and facing a 6 mile hobble back, having to face down a herd of inquisitive cows....all on your tod, solo night running ‘with head torch’, getting really familiar with set routes and areas of dale and fell in an almost Wainwright-esque way, getting really plastered in mud (which to me is crucial in order to count as a proper run), passing hill walkers and leaving them in your wake when they’re already impossibly knackered and you’re breezing up an incline (or at least putting on the pretense)..
I know that hereabouts running on your own is often considered training for races, which of course it is, but I just feel that its important to say that its also not training either. It’s a thing, a purpose, a fun and sometimes dangerous hobby in itself. In a way, I probably actually race to train for my solo fell runs or at least to find out some of the classic routes for future solo runs