The Spirit of Fellrunning
What is the spirit of fell running?
Just turning up at a race, paying a few quid, and running - Borrowing a pair of shoes off a stranger to race in - New races starting, old ones dying - Waiting for the hounds to come in before setting off - Race you to the top of that hill and back lads - Helping on a Bob Graham leg for someone you don’t know - Just being in the mountains - It takes me back to being a boy, just me and my Dad - Giving it your all, getting covered in mud – It is at odds with a risk adverse society - Juniors disappearing, come back at 40 - A desire to lose oneself in the hills, whether by design or not - It isn’t all about the racing: the racing has changed, the running hasn’t - Whether the sport grows, withers or dies. That doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the fells will always be there for those who appreciate them - A sense of place, of territory, the connection between man and the land - I’ve known him for 20 years. I don’t know what his day job is, I just know he’s a runner - The fact that you discover something new about the country, and yourself, each time you run - Feeling naked amid your surroundings - Free from the world - I can be on my Monday morning meat wagon to Central London, close my eyes and see myself bounding over Green Gable - A sense of freedom and abandonment - A tasty post-race, post-bath glass of Laphroig - The welcoming attitude that all of you show to new members - Running solo in the hills. How can that not be free spirited? - The isolation, the beauty, the slightly bonkersness of it - Some times fast, sometimes slow; sometimes alone, sometimes with company - No barriers for anyone who wants to take the sport up - The people; competitors, organisers, supporters. All are welcoming and friendly - The wilderness and the sense of the power of nature – Don’t tell me all kids are fat and lazy, just look at them go - Feeling totally alive in every nerve and sinew - The hand offered as you hesitate at a river crossing - Falling and being lifted back on my feet by two men who didn't break their stride - Where human nature and the environment meet in a friendly fight - The pint in the pub afterwards, the banter, the mates, the tales - Running past someone in full winter gear: crampons, ice axe, the lot. And I'm wearing shorts - No pins, no toilets, no entry fee, no prizes - Flagging the course, racing it, then picking up the flags again - The old guy who once raced came along to watch. Nobody realises how good he was - The fast and the slow, everyone cheering on everyone else as they race straight up and down the fell - Fatigue, fellowship, pain, beauty, and an uncomplicated relationship with nature.
What would you say?