Stybarrow Dodd Fell Race
The delight and pleasure experienced during a day on the fells is forever rewarding in the form of lifelong memories. These enjoyable thoughts are often called upon to help relieve the boredom during mundane times. Once the snow had arrived early this week I’d been like an excitable child. To say I was ‘looking forward’ to Stybarrow Dodd would be an understatement. I was ‘beside myself’ with excitement. I just had to get the mundane stuff out of the way first:
“We’re hitting targets, albeit due to overtime, it’s not ideal but it’s a necessity if future contracts are to be secured”...we’re informed during this weeks team briefing at work. Beforehand a Health and Safety representative had addressed the room giving a formal introduction where he mentioned that in his spare time he’s “bagging the Wainwright’s”. This is music to my ears, the Safety guy had a persona I could relate to. The ‘them and us’ characteristics that are present within the workplace hierarchy had taken a favourable twist. The imaginary barriers had been hurtled as ‘Safety guy’ was a bagger, therefore he must be o’reet? The remainder of the meeting was a blur as the mere mention of Wainwright had me daydreaming of the great outdoors...and cumbersome jewellery!
Health and safety guy was wearing a chunky gold bracelet which shifted excessively with each movement of his arm. The bracelet is evidently too big, maybe it’s a gift? Possibly an heirloom? for which the removal of a few links would affect its sentimental value. The graph depicting ‘Safe working practices’ was of secondary interest as I’m transfixed by the shiny distraction. I’m left thinking how much of a hindrance the bracelet would be during a run. This thought process isn’t unusual as the slightest observations during any given day will often result in thoughts of running. Luckily we’re not quizzed after the briefing, otherwise I’d have failed miserably...but I have completed the Wainwright’s more than once. I’m going to stick it on my CV along with my ‘Working at safe heights certification’.
One of my workmates had noticed I was ‘elsewhere’ during the safety briefing. He said I looked more vacant than usual. I told him he looked as gormless as ever, he laughed and in a jovial manner told me to f**k off. I flipped him my middle finger he then sarcastically enquired “how old are you?”. I told him I’m 50 this year, he walked away shaking his head. I called him back and asked him what he thought of the Safety guys cumbersome bracelet and how disabling it would be during a run? It hadn’t crossed his mind, he was more concerned about the safe working limit on the overhead crane within our department. Once again I couldn’t resist in ‘acting my age’ and said “chillax dude and take a chill-pill”. Once again he drops the F-bomb but this time the joviality wasn’t as evident in his voice. I tell him his potty mouth is a sign of a weak vocabulary and a lack of intelligence. He flipped me his middle finger...how childish! For the record I enquired about the Safe working load of the overhead crane...I’m not reckless!
On the morning of the race there’s still a dusting of the white stuff. It’s one of the few days of the year that our garden looks like Johns. Our neighbour John is an obsessive gardener, his evergreens are pruned to perfection and his lawn puts the turf at Wembley to shame...it’s immaculate. I’ve often witnessed John trimming the edges of his lawn with handheld scissors. (Alison has often witnessed me trimming my own hair with kitchen scissors but that’s another story) John’s wife Phyllis used to also partake in the manicuring of the grass but a double hip-replacement has reduced her to being a pedantic observer from the comfort of a wooden swing bench. The thick cushions that accompany the bench are perfectly matched with the material that covers the swing bench canopy, which provides excellent shade. If I’m being honest it’s a great addition to their garden, it looks lovely and extremely comfortable...Alison wants one!
The time spent proudly admiring our snow covered garden had forced me to miss out on breakfast due to time restraints. On the drive up to the Lake District I’m feeling peckish, the skipped breakfast was proving to be a bad choice. A stop off at Tebay services reveals that the farm shop has a ‘Sale on selected items’...I’m intrigued.
Why are the ‘selected items’ nearly always of little interest? Breadsticks, plain or otherwise are not going to suppress my appetite. If anything the pencil-sized sticks of crisp, dry baked bread would only serve up a nasty helping of heartburn. In truth the ‘Sale on selected items’ was a bit shit. I make do with a piece of out of date banana flavoured malt loaf I find in my running bag. Although it’s lost a degree of moistness the flavour of the banana tastes more prominent. I’ll certainly have malt loaf that’s exceeded its sell by date again...highly recommended if you don’t mind being a bit loose!
Stybarrow Dodd fell race has become the stuff of dreams. Trudging through knee deep snow on a crystal clear day has created memories that will be savoured and called upon.
I’m on another safety course tomorrow.I’m envisaging Stybarrow Dodd being revisited, my vacant expression will be the give away that I’m ‘elsewhere’. My workmate will inform me of my vacant look and I’ll call him gormless. Which will then prompt him to drop the F-bomb, to which I’ll flip him my middle finger...you know the rest.
Many thanks to Paul and all helpers. In today’s ‘snowflake’ environment your attitude is commendable.
