How can you tell a Fell runner

If in the supermarket the fell runner will have healthy foodstuff but will reveal themselves by having bottles of real ale from smaller breweries.

Peaty toe nails.

Uses a compass to find his way to the checkouts?

Uses his dibber at the checkout, mistaking it for a checkpoint, instead of his card.

Leaves a muddy trail on the floor and frightens old ladies with bleeding hairy legs...and that's just the ladies!!!:rolleyes:

A fellrunner is the one that thinks it's completely normal to go shopping in studded shoes covered head to foot in mud and sheep cack, and pays with a ratty note stuffed in the recesses of his/her bumbag.

Stoops to sup from a puddle in the car park.

Turns up in a hotel in the middle of nowhere, freezing cold and soaking wet....later to be found exchanging tales sipping tea with sox off toasting toes in front of a log fire!!!

Runs up and down the stairs at work.

Pees in full view of the public.

Their cars are full of safety pins and the mats/carpets look like they have had an agricultural show held on them.

Work colleagues ain't got a clue what he's on about when they ask him what he's been up to at the weekend and think he's quite mad...................unless he's lucky enough to work with other fellrunners.

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Originally Posted by Rob Furness

A fellrunner is the one that thinks it's completely normal to go shopping in studded shoes covered head to foot in mud and sheep cack, and pays with a ratty note stuffed in the recesses of his/her bumbag.

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That was me last week in serious need of a post run fanta!

No matter how much he showers he still smells of bog and sheep sh!t..............or maybe that's just me:o

Changes out of soaking shoes, socks and as much other gear as is reckoned decent for the pub in front of the fire while drinking the 3 pints of ale deliberately ordered in advance of said manoeuvre.

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Originally Posted by Alf

Runs up and down the stairs at work.

Pees in full view of the public.

Their cars are full of safety pins and the mats/carpets look like they have had an agricultural show held on them.

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You caught me!!!

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Originally Posted by stevefoster

No matter how much he showers he still smells of bog and sheep sh!t..............or maybe that's just me:o

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Naah...tha's just you ;)

From the majority of what you read on this forum the fell runner will be the one walking around the store complaining how much everything costs, and then checking the receipt on the way out of the store complaining even more! :w00t:

Oh and they'll be rummaging through the cycling and running garb at aldi :rolleyes:

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Originally Posted by Stef F

Turns up in a hotel in the middle of nowhere, freezing cold and soaking wet....later to be found exchanging tales sipping tea with sox off toasting toes in front of a log fire!!!

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That DT what a romantic...:)

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Originally Posted by IanDarkpeak

That DT what a romantic...:)

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Heh heh....it was Yiannis :thumbup:

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Originally Posted by Stef F

Naah...tha's just you ;)

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Thought so, must spend a bit more instead of settling for that sheep perfume!

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Originally Posted by Alf

Their cars are full of safety pins and the mats/carpets look like they have had an agricultural show held on them.

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Not forgetting the empty water bottles, discarded race numbers, and banana skins. But yes, mainly mud and safety pins.

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Originally Posted by Tussockface

Not forgetting the empty water bottles, discarded race numbers, and banana skins. But yes, mainly mud and safety pins.

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I manage to clear most of that lot out of the car today before dropping it off for it's MOT:)

"At the crack of mid-day the pre-migration rituals begin. Lesser-spotted Fell-Runners (Uptiddleyup downtiddlydownus) spot each other across the car park as they step out of their cars - their plumage (ancient dog-eared t-shirts from many fell races; shorts) and car decoration (OMM/KIMM stickers in the back window, the pungent smell of arse wafting from the open door, bags of muddy kit scattered about all 4 passenger seats and the boot) making them irresistible to their fellow fell runners whilst the general public (Driveslowly visitteashopicus) look askance.
The courting dance between members of the species begins with the removal of clothing at the car boot. What look like tan lines, but are in fact hardy peat marks from last week's excursion, are enviously glanced. Lurid vests and very short shorts are donned, and in some cases Vaseline disappears below the waist-line, never to be seen again. If there's snow on the ground or horizontal rain in the air, a small hat and bin-bag looking jacket may be in evidence.
At an unknown signal from the strongest member of the group the migration begins. Scampering out of the car-park towards the nearest looking lump of inhospitable heater, bog and rock. Their final destination, the pub, lies but 50m away, but it will take 2 hours before mud is scraped off studded shoes with the aid of the pub's bench and flowerpots and the weary fell runners regail each other in tales of just how they came across that T-shirt they have had longer, and love more than, their children. Whilst lunching families supping fosters look on these waif-like specimens will demolish the largest meal on the pub menu, with extra chips, all washed down with several glasses of white-headed brown or straw coloured liquid which effervesces before being supped before heading home to leave their now mud-laden kit in a plastic bag next to the door, ready for next weekend's adventures."

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Originally Posted by Multiterrainer

I manage to clear most of that lot out of the car today before dropping it off for it's MOT:)

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mine's got compasses, maps, bit's of first aid kit and climbing kit. usually some muddy footware and a vest or two in the boot...........and often lot's of beer!!!

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Originally Posted by ba-ba

"At the crack of mid-day the pre-migration rituals begin. Lesser-spotted Fell-Runners (Uptiddleyup downtiddlydownus) spot each other across the car park as they step out of their cars - their plumage (ancient dog-eared t-shirts from many fell races; shorts) and car decoration (OMM/KIMM stickers in the back window, the pungent smell of arse wafting from the open door, bags of muddy kit scattered about all 4 passenger seats and the boot) making them irresistible to their fellow fell runners whilst the general public (Driveslowly visitteashopicus) look askance.
The courting dance between members of the species begins with the removal of clothing at the car boot. What look like tan lines, but are in fact hardy peat marks from last week's excursion, are enviously glanced. Lurid vests and very short shorts are donned, and in some cases Vaseline disappears below the waist-line, never to be seen again. If there's snow on the ground or horizontal rain in the air, a small hat and bin-bag looking jacket may be in evidence.
At an unknown signal from the strongest member of the group the migration begins. Scampering out of the car-park towards the nearest looking lump of inhospitable heater, bog and rock. Their final destination, the pub, lies but 50m away, but it will take 2 hours before mud is scraped off studded shoes with the aid of the pub's bench and flowerpots and the weary fell runners regail each other in tales of just how they came across that T-shirt they have had longer, and love more than, their children. Whilst lunching families supping fosters look on these waif-like specimens will demolish the largest meal on the pub menu, with extra chips, all washed down with several glasses of white-headed brown or straw coloured liquid which effervesces before being supped before heading home to leave their now mud-laden kit in a plastic bag next to the door, ready for next weekend's adventures."

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David Attenborough couldn't have put it better:thumbup:

:thumbup: brilliant!!! (and so true)

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Originally Posted by ba-ba

"At the crack of mid-day the pre-migration rituals begin. Lesser-spotted Fell-Runners (Uptiddleyup downtiddlydownus) spot each other across the car park as they step out of their cars - their plumage (ancient dog-eared t-shirts from many fell races; shorts) and car decoration (OMM/KIMM stickers in the back window, the pungent smell of arse wafting from the open door, bags of muddy kit scattered about all 4 passenger seats and the boot) making them irresistible to their fellow fell runners whilst the general public (Driveslowly visitteashopicus) look askance.
The courting dance between members of the species begins with the removal of clothing at the car boot. What look like tan lines, but are in fact hardy peat marks from last week's excursion, are enviously glanced. Lurid vests and very short shorts are donned, and in some cases Vaseline disappears below the waist-line, never to be seen again. If there's snow on the ground or horizontal rain in the air, a small hat and bin-bag looking jacket may be in evidence.
At an unknown signal from the strongest member of the group the migration begins. Scampering out of the car-park towards the nearest looking lump of inhospitable heater, bog and rock. Their final destination, the pub, lies but 50m away, but it will take 2 hours before mud is scraped off studded shoes with the aid of the pub's bench and flowerpots and the weary fell runners regail each other in tales of just how they came across that T-shirt they have had longer, and love more than, their children. Whilst lunching families supping fosters look on these waif-like specimens will demolish the largest meal on the pub menu, with extra chips, all washed down with several glasses of white-headed brown or straw coloured liquid which effervesces before being supped before heading home to leave their now mud-laden kit in a plastic bag next to the door, ready for next weekend's adventures."

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Originally Posted by Nathaniel Lee

How can you tell a Fell runner

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Strictly speaking, I don't think you can ever tell a fellrunner anything...

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Originally Posted by stevefoster

Thought so, must spend a bit more instead of settling for that sheep perfume!

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Sheep perfume! Must get some for Mrs sbrt.

Its a Derbyshire thing.

Car boot full of gear and half the fells.

Drinks plenty of real ale.

Proudly showing your friends, family and work colleagues the scars on your legs and knees...and not receiving quite the same enthusiasm back.

when having to run bits on roads you're the one running on the grass verges, and crossing the street to run on them too