ISLE CRACK ON WITH THE RUNNING THEN

The pursuance of fell running hedonism has continued it's course of ups and downs that have plagued the last seven or eight years. Now even nearer to fifty-frigging-two, I can announce a definitive acceptance of my athletic limitations.

Since another annoying calf strain that took three weeks to properly shake off in the Summer however, the latter stages of the warm season was enjoyed by building up some decent running resilience, cycling hard and starting to feel strong again.

Bar the odd week when I've felt fatigued, good form has continued in to Autumn and with a few notably cracking runs on the hills that reminds me this is still what really makes me feel alive.

None less than last week when staying in the beautiful Western Isles of Scotland. A standard run or walk of any description from the door was breathtaking, but I was keen to tick off the most prominent, if modest summit nearest to our accommodation, Beinn Mhór. 

With a large area fenced off for conservation, the route wasn't clear but I found a way to the main climb only to discover I had summited the slightly lesser of Mhór's two peaks. The true summit and trig point was perhaps only another 400 yards away, but over some rough stuff and required losing some elevation. There was temptation, but daylight was fading and the stunning views of Mull had disappeared under a weather front which was heading my way. A younger, probably even more stupid me would have chanced it, but having gone out without any kit or my phone and thinking about a potentially concerned Mrs S back at the ranch, I decided to quickly drop off the top and abort. Soon enough I was to thoroughly commend myself on a very wise decision as I experienced as rough a prolonged Autumn shower as I have ever run through. Picking a way back up and over the moor, the wind zipped up and I was battered by sharp hail and then a deluge of monsoon proportions. Visibility had turned to soup and I was in heaven!
Adrenaline was high and I was running hard just to fight the sodden cold . It was only just over a couple of miles endured in these conditions which was about long enough to stay out of trouble and enjoy the moment. This is why I do it. (Well, one of the reasons anyway)
Who cares about not feeling comfortable enough to do races to a standard anymore? It's about just getting out and enjoying the landscapes and the elements. Instead of comparing myself to the minority of elite fell running piers of my age, remember rather that compared to most near fifty-frigging-two year olds per se, it's still very few that are conditioned enough to bash out rugged runs like this.
I shouldn't be so hard on myself. Looking back at when I was running in my prime I often reflect if I really did enjoy it enough or was too busy trying to raise the bar all the time. Certainly now is the time in life to absolutely suck up every single stride.

CORE AMBITION
Runners occasionally like to delude themselves to some degree or refuse to come to terms with certain realities. We are dreamers who are driven to pursue faster, further, stronger and are quite prepared to brush aside the common sense carefully orchestrated by the rationale department within our heads. This is because the heart rules and the heart is committed to achieving goals, further fuelled by body chemistry that seeks it's fix from the next running session.
I've certainly been delusional. Refusing to accept that my best running days were well behind me in my mid-to-late forties for a start. I pushed too hard and without taking care of stuff like stretching enough or core exercises. Injuries followed, racing became a thing of the past and whilst now I think I'm more in touch with what I can and can't do, I've still been playing dumb to the core fitness side which at my age is absolutely paramount to being able to run to the bus stop, nevermind up and down fells for an hour or two.
I am the text book example of someone who can go out and run up and down whatever is in front of them, but struggle to put my socks on or bend down to lace my shoes properly.
This has got to stop. Perhaps this is why I need to put this in writing right now and shame myself in to action. I'm at a crossroads here. I can still get out and do some daft runs, but I've simply got to include core strengthening in to my week or that longevity will most certainly be compromised.
I'm no spring chicken anymore. Nearly fifty-frigging-two in fact, in case I hadn't made that clear!