On the road again

Today is probably one of the most beautiful March days I can remember. The early fog burned off by late morning and we have clear blue skies, bright sunshine and the merest zephyr of a breeze. I decided to run before lunch, around one O'clock, which would have been noon before the clocks went forward this morning. The temperature here is about 65 degrees, maybe 70 in the sun, so nearly perfect for running. I haven't been out for two weeks due to illness, so I check my feet and trim my toenails before running. I live in a small village called Tickton, about two miles from the East Riding town of Beverley, so the countryside is on my doorstep and my garden looks out onto the fields around which I run. I always start off very slowly, focussing on my balance first, making sure I am poised and erect, loose and relaxed. I jog the hundred yards or so down Green Lane breathing easily through my nose. A few neighbours are out, gardening, cleaning cars or walking dogs. Everyone enjoying the unseasonal warm weather. At the end of Green Lane there is a snickett which leads on to Carr Lane. This turns into a dirt track after another hundred yards and I am running south now into the warm sun.
As I run I scan my body, looking for tension and find my neck and shoulders are a little tight and so I allow them to soften and relax. I pass the stables on my right, an old, one eyed jack russell always guards the entrance but we are old friends, so I stop briefly to say hello and give him a pat. A little further down the lane on the right is a farm with chickens, geese and llamas. The stud llama is kept in a little field of his own and he watches me as he chews his cud in that special way only members of the camel family have. I nod a greeting as I pass. Alone now, I start a circular breathing exercise as I run, counting each breath up to seven and then down to one, and then repeating the cycle. Still monitoring my body and surroundings whilst the breathing cycles round. At the bottom of the lane is a little wooden bridge over the drain, this whole area was marshland, or carrs, before the land was drained. Across the bridge I turn east, towards the River Hull which lies a half a mile away behind its levee, and then enter a small plantation of mixed deciduous and coniferous trees. The sunlight is dappled through the branches and the path undulates a little as it passes over large roots. The scent of pine resin is strong, and the birds are in full spring voice. I have christened this plantation "almost straight wood" because it runs straight as an arrow, apart from dog legs on entry and exit. (I have posted a picture of the path that I took a month ago during the snow.)
Coming out of the wood I turn south again, there is another plantation to my right and the field to my left has young pea plants now about a foot high. By now I am warmed up and moving freely and relaxed, absorbed in the sensations of my body and the sights, sounds and scents of nature around me. The welcome sun smiles warmly on my face and bare arms and legs. I am dancing with the moment, unconcerned by how far I have gone or yet have to go. I don't time myself or even wear a watch, I don't care how fast I go. I do this because it gives me pleasure and satisfaction and have realised that positive enjoyable feedback is the best motivation for exercise.
Two drains intersect at the corner of the field and you often find deer here at dawn or dusk, particularly in winter. They can jump the drains easily. The path turns east now and runs straight for about a mile, parallel to the path through "Nearly Straight Wood", which I can see across the pea field. I am moving with a nice rhythm and resist the temptation to go faster because I want to see how my body handles this run before increasing the workload. Before turning north, I pass a family picnicking by the side of the path, I nod a greeting and run on. I can see Green Lane ahead of me, about a mile away across the fields in the distance, and run with the sun on my back for about half a mile, before turning west towards the bridge again. In the distance lies Beverley Minster, a medieval gothic masterpiece, founded by Saint John of Beverley around 620 AD. Beverley was originally "beaver's lee," and beavers abounded in the marshes that lay to the east and south the town. We still have a beaver in our coat of arms. I have posted a shot of the minster at sunset taken in the snow that was taken on the same afternoon as the photo of the woods. Soon I am back over the bridge and retracing my steps down Carr Lane. The Jack Russell is still there, but has wandered back into the stable yard, he's a friendly old boy. I arrive home sweating slightly, still breathing through my nose and feel as if I could go round again. It has been a lovely little run, but conditions were perfect and they are not always so. I shall see how I feel in the morning, and all being well will swim.