Even though I was on holiday, I can't really take a break from marathon training. But that was ok, because I knew that there was a coastal path in North Norfolk that I could follow. Our accommodation in the picturesque village of Blakeney was about 100 yards from the path, so there was no excuse but to run it!
On Friday evening, I headed out for an exploratory 6 mile run. Friday late afternoon/early was quite dull and grey, not showing the coastal path at its best. It also meant that no one was out there walking, which gave me 6 miles of isolated running to enjoy. Just me, a tiny frog and a reed warbler (I had to look up the bird when I got back to the flat, obviously - I'm not a twitcher!). At first, it was unnerving being so alone when running. As a London dweller, this doesn't happen very often and usually not for longer than a few yards. So to go 4 miles before I saw another soul was a strange but pleasant feeling. I didn't need to feel scared or threatened (or maybe reed warblers do mug humans, I don't know), I just felt free.
On Saturday morning, it was back out for a longer 12 mile run. By now, the sun was out again, which meant all the tourists and dog walkers were too. So the first 3 miles of the run were definitely not isolated as before. Unlike London, however, people in Norfolk move to one side when you shout 'excuse me'. They share the path, and even smile, wave and say hello. This makes such a change for me from running the Thames towpath, where sometimes people would rather throw you in the river than budge half an inch to the left. By the time I got to Cley, the next village, I was high on camaraderie and neighbourliness.
After leaving Cley, though, the terrain started to change. The path continues along a vast expanse of shingle beach, alternating between the beach itself and a high shingle ridge. Running along the ridge was ok, as the shingle was compacted, but running along the beach was a new and challenging experience. My feet sank into the deep, loose, shingle with every step, so it became a trudge not a run. To make things a even more difficult, there was a strong wind blowing out to sea, so anything the path curved inland I was running directly into a very strong headwind. Pace went out of the window, with all my effort focussed on moving forward somehow. I couldn't even manage to open my gel while running as it was just a step too far - I had to stop dead to open it, then as I sucked it out the wind caught it and blew it all down my front. Ooh, the glamour of marathon training!
Despite this new and entirely frustrating terrain, I was loving it. With the sea to the left, beautiful rolling countryside to the right and a gorgeous blue sky above , who gives a monkeys about pace? I felt so privileged to be able to run that route, to experience such a beautiful part of the world in that way, I didn't worry about my pace. Besides, my muscles were getting a whole new workout and I was getting some 'running into a headwind' training (which I suspect may be very useful in York at some point) so I figured I was still reaping lots of benefits from my new terrain.
By the time it was time to turn back, I was sorry to leave the path. I was starting to daydream about ultra running and thinking about how nice it would be to run the whole 45 miles of the North Norfolk coastal path (well, not the shingle bit, but that would be near the end, when you might want a slow bit anyway). By the time I had made it back to the pub, with SIS gel dribbled down the front of my top and sweaty salt encrusting my face and arms, I had decided that I am definitely going to run the length of the path next year. Anyone fancy joining me?
