The joys of running in the countryside

When I run in Bristol, I get into as much of the city "countryside" as possible - the green lungs of the city. The Downs, Oldbury Court, Snuff Mills, Stoke Park, Eastville Park. But I forget that this isn't proper countryside.

I'm down in Devon for a week's holiday and after two weeks of grumbly knee/ankle boredom, I am determined to incorporate some running into the week. So this evening Matt and I took to the cliff path for a quick 5km. It was, overall, great - a sunny evening along the Yealm river estuary, through a herd of Dartmoor ponies, past several yachts moored in the sheltered estuary, through green rolling fields and next to and above a gorgeous blue expanse of sea. Matt (who I think I have already said is much faster than me) did about double the distance I did. I was going pretty slow just to ease myself back in, which was too slow for him - to be fair I told him he could run ahead. But in an attempt to still keep me company a bit, he basically did intervals, sprinting off into the distance then running back to join me, before sprinting off again. At one point he almost knocked me over, careering down a rocky downhill bit as I panted my way up it.

It was a slow run - hot, humid, I was nervous about my knees, it was hilly, and uneven ground. But still felt good to be out there. HOWEVER. There are elements of countryside running which I did not much like. My legs and knees have been scratched and stung to within in an inch of their lives by overgrown nettles and brambles. And there seemed to be MILLIONS of flying ants. On the way out (we did a 2.5km there and 2.5km back loop) they covered my legs and shorts, and somehow one got up my top and bit me all across my stomach. On the way home, there were such thick swarms of them you couldn't breath without inhaling them - I resorted to a head down, teeth gritted approach, breathing through my teeth to avoid swallowing the little gits. At least it made me run faster up hill.

The final peril is that when you take to narrow single track roads you have to be ready to dive into the nettles on the side of the road and put up with dust clouds when a car goes past. The only driver I could forgive was our lovely neighbour/farmer's wife/otherwise known as Charlotte - who sped past in her buggy/quad bike with her dog lolling out the side. She is more than forgiven as it is she that provides us with lovely cuts of meat,eggs, cakes etc from her farmshop Moostone Meats, including the melt-in-your-mouth fillet steaks we replenished our tired muscles with at the end of the day!