The run in Wales

  So we're in Wales for the weekend. It is accepted now in my family that running is something I do, and it means I could pick my shoes up and choose my time and route and go! A luxury, and I'm not even sarcastic.  

  I quickly discovered, when plotting a route in an unknown place, that some roads are friendlier for this than others, and definitely avoid planning running along the motorway. That meant country roads, wounding and turning over hills, valleys, hills and valleys, hills-and-valleys, through villages and along pretty things.  

(Photo of pretty things once I remember how to do it).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Uncle Google gave me 3 possible routes but even uncle Google said the routes may not be walkable at times, and to exercise caution. The other running apps gave me their options. I kind of memorised a hybrid route of all of them, that I made up from the segments I could be absolutely sure they were walking friendly. So that was a bit anxiety-inducing Guiness fuelled rabbit-hole late at night, as who's to say I won't end up in a ditch, be run by a dog, be cursed by drivers, or take a wrong turn. 

After much deliberating and, ofcourse, procastinating, I set foot on the road, aiming South (that was easy, glaring bright sun on my face) as destination was at sea in Tenby, where I'd meet the family later. It looked a bit like this  

(There's a screenshot of the maps somewhere) 

 It wasn't really a RUN run, per se. It was a lot of pitching my ears to listen for distant car noises so I jump out of their way, slowing down at sharp turns of roads walled by spectacularly tall green bushes with no visibility for cars unless they did the sensible thing and slowed down a lot. It was a lot of stopping genuinely in awe at the beauty and quiet of the countryside. People write books about these things and I can see why the descriptiveness is not boring to write, or boring to read. It's frigging beautiful in the countryside and I'm not a poet so I'll park that there.  

  Uphill it was hard. Loads of steep hills.

 Downhill it was weird, as the incline was huge, my knees were feeling the pounding; couldn't run downhill, really, but more like side stepped down making sure I don't fall on my face.   

 Loads of people hello-ing. That was cute and together with the running euphoria, exhilarating. Talked to a couple who were just finishing renovating their house, which looked like a mansion perked up on the steep side of the hill and road, and moved to this area from London 2 years ago. Talked to an elderly lady coming out of her porch who asked me where is my accent from, and said she's lived there since she retired, with her family, and the kids are working abroad and in London.

  Got encouraged by almost all the cyclists catching me up from behind uphill, and asked for a lift but they thought I was joking. I also have to say my every third thought was "if Tara could see this, she would be so happy!"- I missed my running ladee quite a bit.

 Ate through my jellybabies, talked to myself loudly as there was no one in sight, just birds, hills, bushes, the odd car, and the quiet.  

  At about km 10 I felt this was enough, bleepy hills, and it didn't help that I was passing by the beaches now with all the beer and ice cream and sunshine and wellbeing palpable in the air. However my pride stopped me, I was late for the kids anyway, and map showed only a third of the way left, mercifully, on a slight downhill incline.  

The cherry on the cake was the last 1km stretch through a narrow path only a bit cemented, through a wood, a gentle down-slope, then the town of Tenby. 

 The other cherry on the cake was changing in the car into dry clothes, joining the family, having lunch, going to the beach. Skin felt dry and weird as I didn't have a shower, but that made it the best ever shower I've had, when we got back to the caravan.  

No massive thoughts on this run, just want to remember it all. Actually, the gist of my thoughts is that I feel fortunate I could experience this. Oh, and yeah, a lesson that always needs reinforcing: the outdoors , and particularly the green, the quiet, the sea are good for the heart.