Running in the heat: Love Island or lunacy?

As I trudge along the towpath, breathing heavily and sweating like I have a tap on my forehead, a runner passes me in the opposite direction, looking like he should be on Love Island rather than the Basingstoke Canal. 

Shirt off, bronzed and bouncing along with zero effort, I catch a glimpse of myself in my fellow runner's unfogged designer sunglasses. The contrast is marked. For all that he is making the morning's trot seem effortless, I am making it look like serious hard work.

With a physique more Peter Crouch than Peter Andre, I wouldn't inflict my shirtless torso on anyone, but the result means that my t-shirt appears to have been dipped in water, drenched as it is with the insane amount of perspiration that is cascading down my body. My pasty British skin and beetroot red face, meanwhile, gives the unmistakable impression of a man who is clearly not at home in hot weather, at least when running anyway.

The Love Island contestant is clearly in his element. Like a lion prancing across the parched South African Savannah, this is his time and, although he may have been waiting all year for the perfect temperature to unleash his six pack on the world, it has finally arrived and he is determined to enjoy it.

I, meanwhile, am more penguin than lion in anything over 20 degrees and this morning's run only serves to reaffirm that my climate of choice for running involves round-the-clock drizzle and overcast skies, and that I barely have a one-pack, let alone six.

But this is the British way. We are an odd collection of individuals, with as many sun worshippers as sun haters and a universal ability to moan about the weather, regardless of preference. And it's the same with running. Some of us love exerting ourselves in the heat, while others loathe it.

However you feel about the weather, though, the challenge it adds to your running is significant. Running in the heat can drain your energy and dehydrate you at speed (as evidenced by my t-shirt), while running in the cold can test your mental strength and stamina. Which you prefer is a matter of personal preference, but the physiological impact climate has on our bodies is actually the same for us all, regardless of whether you're a Love Islander or a penguin. 

So, this summer, when you're running in the heat - proudly topless or hugging the treeline in desperate search of shade - make sure you are properly hydrated before your run and adequately topped up throughout it. Other blindingly obvious tips for running in the heat:

• Wear as little as possible - leave the leggings at home!
• Go early or late - mad dogs and runners go out in the midday sun...and then pay the price!
• Go slower - a heatwave is not the time to push for a PB
• Seek the shade - plot a tree-lined route rather than taking yourself to open moorland for the day
• Choose trail over road - a grassy off-road route is never going to be as hot as pounding the pavement alongside the A34.
• Buy a paddling pool - the perfect way to cool off and annoy your entire family in the process (I still have shouts of "ughh Daaaad, you're sweaty and disgusting, get out of there" ringing in my ears)

Alternatively, of course,  you can just sack off the running altogether when it's hot, fire up the BBQ and grab something cold from the fridge. The beauty of living in the UK is that you know the hot weather is never going to last, so your fitness levels aren't going to suffer if you opt for a Cornetto over a 10K. 

As for me, I've got some kit to wash!

Enjoyed this? Check out my new book: The Running Drug

Available in ebook and paperback from Amazon.

From cancer diagnosis to marathon medal, via gloved fingers, blood tests and black toenails,  The Running Drug tells the personal story of how Tim Beynon’s running addiction helped him to overcome cancer, finish his first marathon and discover a fitter, healthier future.

REVIEWS

"Tim Beynon found himself in a situation nobody would want, and he ran and wrote his way out of it with searing honesty and a self-deprecating wit. It's a practical, morbidly fascinating and inspiring read. It made me want to get myself checked out."

Paul Tonkinson, Runner's World columnist and comedian 

"Tim’s 16-month journey is filled with worry, hope, belief, determination and achievement. Relatable and even funny at times, Tim overcomes so much and will hopefully help many other people think twice about the importance of health checks, at whatever age. The Running Drug made me smile, as well as think about all my male family and friends. The included information could be really helpful to them and may even save someone’s life. It’s a great book, highly recommended."

Nell McAndrew, 2.54 marathoner and model

-------

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Five great running podcasts you might not have heard of (and two you probably have)

Like finding a needle in a haystack, or a decent pair of running shoes in Decathlon, searching for your next favourite podcast can be a painful and time consuming process. 

I've lost count of the number of times I've been kitted up and ready for a long run, trainers on and key in door, only to spend 10 minutes swiping and scrolling to find something to plug into my ears that has at least a vague chance of interesting me for a few miles.

So, I've taken the pain out of the podcast pursuit for you and come up with a list of five running-related listens, that you might never have heard of. 

Grab your phone, hit download and enjoy.

1. WhatTheFartlek

Weekly banter from runners Rob and Matt, includes interviews with inspirational runners and covers everything from couch-to-5K to ultra training. Clocking in at around 80-90 minutes an episode, it's also a good one for a long run.

2. Running is Bullshit

Hilarious fortnightly show with hosts Stewart and Amy who, to be honest, like a moan when it comes to running. Whether it's the weather, injuries, races or any other aspect of running, these two have something to say about it. Also usually running at around an hour long, it's a good show for a long Sunday run.

3. Free Weekly Timed

If you've missed Parkrun during the pandemic, this one is for you. Hosted by Vassos Alexander (yes, him off the Chris Evans Breakfast Show) and Helen Williams, it is dedicated to all things Parkrun, across the UK and the rest of the world. Celebrating the free weekly 5K, the 30 minute show features stories from parkrun runners and volunteers. Not an official mouthpiece for Parkrun, but a joyous listen nonetheless.

4. The Rambling Runner

This one is from Stateside amateur runner and all round running enthusiast Matt Chittim. Focussing on the needs of the amatuer runner, it includes weekly interviews with experts, authors, doctors, psychologists on every physical and mental aspect of running you can think of. Shows run from around 40 mins to an hour.

5. With Me Now

Another show for Parkrun enthusiasts, by a collection of Parkrun enthusiasts. Lots of chat, interaction with listeners and discussion on all things Parkrun from across the UK and overseas. A relaxing and easy listen. Around 50 mins to an hour in length.

And two you probably do know...

Marathon Talk

Presented by marathon training legend and London Marathon regular Martin Yelling and Holly Rush, this is one of the most popular pods in the country. Long established (almost 600 shows in at the time of writing) it regularly featues running's big names. With all kinds of sponsors to boot, there's often a decent competition and offers to boot.

Running Commentary

Running and talking, it's a simple concept, brilliantly brought to life on a weekly basis by comedians Paul Tonkinson and Rob Deering. It's like being on the run with them as the conversation naturaly flows from one subject to the next, albeit all slightly out of breath. Love it.

Enjoyed this? Check out my new book: The Running Drug

Available in ebook and paperback from Amazon.

From cancer diagnosis to marathon medal, via gloved fingers, blood tests and black toenails,  The Running Drug tells the personal story of how Tim Beynon’s running addiction helped him to overcome cancer, finish his first marathon and discover a fitter, healthier future.

REVIEWS

"Tim Beynon found himself in a situation nobody would want, and he ran and wrote his way out of it with searing honesty and a self-deprecating wit. It's a practical, morbidly fascinating and inspiring read. It made me want to get myself checked out."

Paul Tonkinson, Runner's World columnist and comedian 

"Tim’s 16-month journey is filled with worry, hope, belief, determination and achievement. Relatable and even funny at times, Tim overcomes so much and will hopefully help many other people think twice about the importance of health checks, at whatever age. The Running Drug made me smile, as well as think about all my male family and friends. The included information could be really helpful to them and may even save someone’s life. It’s a great book, highly recommended."

Nell McAndrew, 2.54 marathoner and model

-------

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Picture imperfect: The curse of the race photographer

There's just over a kilometre to go of the glorious Hampshire Hoppit Trail Half Marathon and, as I round a tall hedgerow - my thoughts drifting to the finish-line goody bag - a dizzying hill greets me. 

Powering up the incline, my legs burn and I can hear myself making some kind of guttural wheezing noise as it takes every ounce of energy I have left to beat the seemingly-vertical pathway. 

Reaching the crest of the hill I am greeted, not by the cheers of awestruck spectators, but by the unwelcome site of the race photographer. Perched on a camp stool and snapping away at the passing runners, like a lazy big-game hunter taking a trip to the nearest zoo rather than the Serengeti, I sense that he has me in his sights.

Unsure whether to jauntily wave, smile or give a thumbs-up, I opt to do nothing and instead attempt to look like a serious runner who is nearing the end of a breath-taking race across the Hampshire countryside. Unfortunately, the resulting photograph tells a very different story.

Indeed, if a picture is said to tell a thousand words, then most of those associated with this particular image would be obscene. Far from appearing like a confident runner who is digging deep to finish with a flourish, I look like I am moments from death. Worse still, the angle of the image doesn't even make the hill look particularly steep.

However, this is not the first time I have been captured at my worst by race photographers. In fact, it seems to be standard practice with every race I have entered and has made me wonder whether there is some kind of a conspiracy amongst the snappers to take bad photos of me on purpose. It's either that, or  I really do look like I'm about to vomit whenever I run.

Exhibit B

Browsing the vast gallery of images after a race does not help matters. Every other runner appears smiling, happy, waving or powering on with a look of steely determination and the confident composure of a serious athlete striving for a PB. Anyone stumbling across my images, meanwhile, must surely think that I have somehow signed myself up for the wrong race, presumably having ticked 'half marathon' instead of '1km family fun run' and been too embarrassed to back out.

Thankfully the organisers of the Hoppit didn't charge runners anything extra to download the race photographers' output. While having to pay for the offending photos would have felt too much like paying a mugger to rob you, having them for posterity will at least remind me of the painful moments, if not of the brilliantly organised event itself.

In reality, while the pictures may have told a different story, my first race in two years was a joyous and uplifting experience, reminding me of exactly why running is so special. The hours spent on solo runs can be both challenging and rewarding, but nothing compares to the anticipation and rush of endorphins that comes with competing. The thrill of running with others, to achieve an entirely personal time, is unattainable in any other setting and has been missed by us all during these long lockdown months.

Thank God, running races are back.

As for the race photographers, I'm pretty sure I'll be maintaining a social distance from them for years to come!

Enjoyed this? Check out my new book: The Running Drug

Available in ebook and paperback from Amazon.

From cancer diagnosis to marathon medal, via gloved fingers, blood tests and black toenails,  The Running Drug tells the personal story of how Tim Beynon’s running addiction helped him to overcome cancer, finish his first marathon and discover a fitter, healthier future.

REVIEWS

"Tim Beynon found himself in a situation nobody would want, and he ran and wrote his way out of it with searing honesty and a self-deprecating wit. It's a practical, morbidly fascinating and inspiring read. It made me want to get myself checked out."

Paul Tonkinson, Runner's World columnist and comedian 

"Tim’s 16-month journey is filled with worry, hope, belief, determination and achievement. Relatable and even funny at times, Tim overcomes so much and will hopefully help many other people think twice about the importance of health checks, at whatever age. The Running Drug made me smile, as well as think about all my male family and friends. The included information could be really helpful to them and may even save someone’s life. It’s a great book, highly recommended."

Nell McAndrew, 2.54 marathoner and model

-------

Subscribe to Splits & Giggles, the Clued Up Runners newsletter

The book of revelations...kind of!

So, I've published a book.

It's taken two years and I've effectively signed my soul away to Jeff Bezos and Amazon in the process, but The Running Drug is finally on sale. The problem is, I'm now not sure whether I should have done it at all.

Seeing something you have written gracing the virtual shelves of the world's biggest retailer is a humbling experience. But seeing your friends and family buy copies and actually read it...well, that's just plain terrifying.

I realised soon after launching the book last week that, at no point in the writing of it, did I ever stop to think about the fact that people I knew would actually read it. Indeed, it wasn't until the proverbial cat was out of the bag and stuck 40 foot up a tree that reality hit home. All these amazing people who had so kindly bought my book would soon be reading about some of the most private and intimate moments of my life. Was I really ready for that?

I imagine that this must be how the contestants on Naked Attraction feel after they finish filming an episode of Channel 4's flesh-filled version of Blind Date. Presumably they can't all go home 100 per cent confident that appearing, tackle out, in ultra high definition on national television was a good decision? Surely some of them must wish that they had filled in the form for Countdown instead?

Granted, there were no photographs in my book, but as I read the comments left by friends, stating that they had kindly ordered a copy, I began to reflect on just how much I had actually laid bare. Were they ready to read about my prostate and assorted trouser-related troubles? Was I ready to look them in the eye again afterwards?

The Running Drug is a personal story, but my hope with writing it was always that it might strike a chord with someone, somewhere and convince them to book a PSA test or a visit to the GP. So, if bearing my soul caused a few of my friends to feel a little uncomfortable when reading about my trials with a catheter, I guess that's a necessary evil. If one of them books themselves a checkup...mission accomplished.

As for my own uncertainties, I'm sure I'll get used to the fact that people will soon know everything there is to know about my prostate cancer experience, but what I'm most worried about is someone picking me up on all the running mistakes I have made along the way. 

It's all there in the book, no stretching, no warm-ups, no core work...it's like I've voluntarily exposed myself as a running cheat, an amateur masquerading as someone who knows something about running. 

Oh well, there's no putting the cat back in the bag now. Pilates class on YouTube? Nah, what's on telly?

The Running Drug is available in ebook and paperback from Amazon: 

http://viewbook.at/TheRunningDrug 

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Subscribe to Splits & Giggles, the Clued Up Runners newsletter

I've been caught speeding

With restrictions gradually easing, running clubs across the country have finally been able to resume group training. While a welcome relief for us all and a sign that things are slowly beginning to return to normal, my first training sessions have, however, felt a little like returning to the pub after a six-month alcohol amnesty and ordering a pint of tequilla.

Don't get me wrong. I have been running during lockdown - in fact, I've run quite a lot - I just haven't done any speed training whatsoever. I have taken the easy option and predominantly run at a leisurely pace for the past few months. An injury has thankfully provided me with a justifiable excuse for some of my lack of pace-based training, but there's no hiding from the fact that I simply haven't done enough.

This fact has been brought home to me over the first few sessions with my running club, all of which have involved some kind of speed training and unashamedly exposed my total lack of pace.

In short, it's not been pretty. 

However, this is a good thing. Unless being governed by a race training plan, I am not the kind of runner who will voluntarily take himself, alone, to a hill or a long, straight piece of road in order to hammer out a pyramid session. I need other people around me to pull me along in these sessions, to show me how much work I have to do and to make me push myself harder than I would on my own.

So I am grateful to Boris for allowing us to return to group-based training and to the run leaders at my club who are so adept at coming up with hellishly difficult speed sessions.

My aching calves and instantly improved Strava metrics are proof that this torture is doing me good and, although I often hate it while I'm doing it, I'll be back for more over the coming weeks.

Enjoyed this? Check out my new book: The Running Drug

Available in ebook and paperback from Amazon.

From cancer diagnosis to marathon medal, via gloved fingers, blood tests and black toenails,  The Running Drug tells the personal story of how Tim Beynon’s running addiction helped him to overcome cancer, finish his first marathon and discover a fitter, healthier future.

REVIEWS

"Tim Beynon found himself in a situation nobody would want, and he ran and wrote his way out of it with searing honesty and a self-deprecating wit. It's a practical, morbidly fascinating and inspiring read. It made me want to get myself checked out."

Paul Tonkinson, Runner's World columnist and comedian 

"Tim’s 16-month journey is filled with worry, hope, belief, determination and achievement. Relatable and even funny at times, Tim overcomes so much and will hopefully help many other people think twice about the importance of health checks, at whatever age. The Running Drug made me smile, as well as think about all my male family and friends. The included information could be really helpful to them and may even save someone’s life. It’s a great book, highly recommended."

Nell McAndrew, 2.54 marathoner and model

-----

Subscribe to Splits & Giggles, the Clued Up Runners newsletter

Running in the snow - fun or foolish?

Let's be honest, a smattering of the white stuff brings out the inner eight-year-old in all of us. It's like being transported back in time to the days when a hastily confirmed snow day meant that school was replaced with snowball fights, sledging, frost bitten fingers and day-long nasal dew drops. And so it was this weekend, when a blanket of snow greeted my family and I as we drew back the curtains on Sunday morning.

A thick carpet of snow covered our immediate surrounds and, after fighting my children into waterproof clothes, we ventured to a nearby hill, armed with a dusty sledge. Unfortunately, we were not alone. Most of the town had descended on the hill, turning a humble sledging opportunity into a coronavirus super spreader event. So we about turned and opted for a winter walk instead, accompanied by two grumpy children and a redundant sledge.

Before returning home though, I left my wife with the grumbling duo, offloaded my coat and joggers, and headed off for my Sunday long run. 

I was immediately grateful for the opportunity to have a snowy adventure of my own, revelling in the scenery created by a winter storm that had transformed familiar trails into movie-like scenes. Also grateful for my trail shoes, it was apparent early in my run that I would have to have my wits about me to judge snow depth, slippage potential and snow-covered water hazards.

The kilometres ticked by, albeit at a slower pace than normal, and - had it not been for the repeated photographic stops - I would have felt far more tired than usual. Running through snow is not too dissimilar to running on sand. Everything requires that little bit more effort and one's concentration level needs to be on a higher plane to avoid rolling an ankle or face planting into a drift. 

However, if you find a track or trail away from the crowds of snowmen-making families and sledging teenagers, a blanket of snow brings with it a magic silence and stillness that is unique to the conditions. At one point - the furthest point from home on my run - I stopped on a side-track that was, as our now recycled Christmas cards professed, deep and crisp and even. There was no one else around, no human or automotive noises to be heard and the only tracks in front of me were of the avian variety. In reality, I was probably no more than five miles from a McDonalds, but this could have been somewhere in the Arctic Circle rather than Hampshire. It was wonderful.

Thankfully, I managed to get around and home without falling foul of Mother Nature and, despite having fingers like frozen chipolatas, loved every minute of my snowy Sunday long run. As for my sledge-cursing offspring, they had spent the duration of my run creating a spectacular snowman in the back garden but, having exhausted the novelty of the conditions, were now back on a screen.

Snow or no snow, some things never change.

Enjoyed this? Check out my new book: The Running Drug

Available in ebook and paperback from Amazon.

From cancer diagnosis to marathon medal, via gloved fingers, blood tests and black toenails,  The Running Drug tells the personal story of how Tim Beynon’s running addiction helped him to overcome cancer, finish his first marathon and discover a fitter, healthier future.

REVIEWS

"Tim Beynon found himself in a situation nobody would want, and he ran and wrote his way out of it with searing honesty and a self-deprecating wit. It's a practical, morbidly fascinating and inspiring read. It made me want to get myself checked out."

Paul Tonkinson, Runner's World columnist and comedian 

"Tim’s 16-month journey is filled with worry, hope, belief, determination and achievement. Relatable and even funny at times, Tim overcomes so much and will hopefully help many other people think twice about the importance of health checks, at whatever age. The Running Drug made me smile, as well as think about all my male family and friends. The included information could be really helpful to them and may even save someone’s life. It’s a great book, highly recommended."

Nell McAndrew, 2.54 marathoner and model

-----

Subscribe to Splits & Giggles, the Clued Up Runners newsletter

-------

Next step: Join the conversation in our Facebook Group

You might also enjoy...

Why I'm no longer taking running for granted

Why I won't be setting a running goal in 2021

How hard is it to stick to the rules?

If someone had told you in 2019 that the Government of tomorrow would be dictating when you're allowed to go outside, you'd have assumed that either war had broken out or you'd inadvertently mistaken the plot of a Tom Cruise blockbuster for real life.

But this is real life, in its most terrifying form. We are living through the third wave of a pandemic that has fundamentally changed the way we live and which, on its current trajectory, is set to get worse before it gets better. 

So I am struggling to understand why, when the news is so bleak, so many of us still think that we can interpret the rules as we wish, to suit whatever circumstances we choose.

While on my long run this Sunday - alone - I found myself diving into bushes, scrambling across the uneven edges of trails and taking to the puddles in order to avoid large groups of people and children walking together. Of course, I could be wrong. They could all have been innocently walking together in their nominated bubbles, but I must have missed the societal shift that has made it common place for three sets of forty-something couples and their nine children to live together. 

Granted, some of the adults were making an effort to walk two-metres apart, but again I feel that they must have mistaken metre-rules for standard rulers in their interpretation of the social distancing guidance. Their awareness of other trail-users - namely myself - meanwhile, was non-existent.

For some reason, every group I encountered at the weekend was walking away from me as I approached. With the early encounters I would therefore either cough loudly (probably not the most appropriate tactic in hindsight) or scuff my shoes on the gravel to make the party aware of my presence. Without exception, this failed. By the end of the run, I was therefore simply shouting "behind you" in pantomime fashion to make them move. This would result in a scattering of the party across the whole trail, forcing me to stop and wait until they had the sense to move in a common direction and allow me enough space to pass.

Why is this happening? Why are people still not following the rules? 

As someone who embraces the outside and recognises its value in terms of our physical and mental wellbeing, I can’t help but feel that breaking the rules is at the least selfish, and at the most both illegal and morally indefensible. Even if the chance of you contracting coronavirus or inadvertently passing it on is as slim as Donald Trump's chance of having his Twitter ban overturned, there is still a chance. You may never see or hear of the damage that is caused as a result of your actions, but that extra trip out might just end up bringing tragedy to the door of an entirely innocent family. Gathering in groups just exacerbates this tenfold.

As the staggering number of hospital admissions and deaths continues to rise, and as Professor Chris Whitty takes to every known form of media to hammer home the stay-at-home message, the consequence of these people's actions could mean tighter restrictions for us all. 

Outdoor exercise once a week? Curfews every evening? No one wants to get to that stage. So come on people, play your part and stick to the rules. 

Stay home. Protect the NHS. Save Lives. Watch Netflix. Easy.

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Next step: Join the conversation in our Facebook Group

You might also enjoy...

Why I'm no longer taking running for granted

Why I won't be setting a running goal in 2021

Why I won't be setting a running goal in 2021

This December 31st, we didn't so much welcome in the new year as kick the old one firmly up the arse and shove it out the door. As years go, 2020 was an absolute stinker for us all. At its very worst it tore families apart and irreparably damaged lives, it stopped us from working - or transformed us into muted Zoom zombies - and, although minor in comparison, it wiped the running calendar clean for us all. Which is exactly why I am refusing to set myself any kind of a running goal for 2021.

I was lucky. My family and I have so far managed to steer clear of coronavirus, I have remained in work throughout the pandemic and we do not live in a town overrun with covidiots. Nevertheless, 2020 took its toll in other ways. It provided unexpected challenges in the form of home schooling (an experience that reaffirmed my decision not to pursue a career in teaching), it redefined the term 'social life' to mean 'waving at neighbours once a week while banging saucepans in the street' and it brought the cancellation of organised running events across the land.

Early on in the year, as it became clear that I would not be taking part in any races and that 'mass participation' would mean a socially-distanced run with three or four club mates, if I was lucky, I set myself the goal of reaching 1,000 miles by the end of 2020. I had achieved this the preceding year and was fairly confident I could do so again, but with 250KM to go I picked up an injury that ruled me out for two months and brought a very 2020 end to my running year.

However, failing to reach my running target has given me time to think about the whole concept of setting targets in the first place. Why do we do it? Whether it's to complete a set distance, to take part in a particular number of races or to beat the benchmark Strava figures from the preceding year, all we're actually doing is applying pressure to ourselves. Yes, goals can be motivating, but at the same time they can become all consuming and take your focus away from the reason why you're running in the first place.

This is why I've decided to be utterly ambitionless in 2021 when it comes to running. The past year has shown us just how unpredictable life can be, so I'm looking forward to going into the next one with no goal in mind. Whatever I achieve will be a bonus, but my primary motivation is simply to enjoy my running again, to be thankful that I can run, to avoid injuries and see where the roads and trails take me.

I'm looking forward to running on my own during the lockdown times and with club friends once we're allowed to meet again. I'm going to run long or run short, depending on my mood, not on what any training plan or Strava statistics are telling me and I'm going to discover routes I've never run before on  runs where I have no distance or time in mind. 

So, good riddance 2020 and here's to a relaxed and enjoyable running year ahead. No pressure, no goals. Let's just see where the trails take us. 

Next step: Join the conversation in our Facebook Group

You might also enjoy...

Why I'm no longer taking running for granted

Strava's depressing truths for injured runners

Running the Christmas light fantastic

Running in a 100% polyester Santa hat is like voluntarily placing your head in a blast furnace for 30 minutes. Having done exactly this yesterday (the hat, not the blast furnace), I can confirm that the material from which my festive headwear has been crafted boasts heat retaining properties that polar explorers would be delighted with. Unfortunately for me last night, however, it meant that the level of sweat pouring down my face was in no way reflective of the weather, or of the amount of effort I was putting into my run.

The occasion for my sweaty head run was an Under 11s Christmas lights jaunt around my home town. I have been helping out at the running club – which my son also attends – since picking up the injury that I have subsequently bored regular blog readers with for the past couple of months. As it was the last run of the year, festive adornments were obligatory and the chosen 5K route took in the best of the local lights.

Having not previously toured the area’s building-related Christmas extravagance, I was taken aback at the incredible array of lights, blow-up Santas, laser displays and rooftop reindeer that residents had selflessly put on, outside and atop their homes for local groups of touring children in high-viz vests to admire. It was like Christmas had exploded over the town.

The irony that 2020 has been such a dark and disappointing year was not lost on me as the children ooh’d and ahhh’d their way around the streets and side roads. Indeed, it was uplifting to see the effort that people had gone to in order to literally brighten up the abodes in which they had all presumably spent the vast majority of the year. Perhaps it’s because of a new found appreciation of home that folks are making an extra effort this year, either that or it’s because they’re so fed up with their surroundings that they’re doing everything they possibly can to disguise them as something else. Either way, if reflected across the rest of the country, the Christmas light industry has also presumably been one of the few to have had a bumper 2020.

Our run toured much of the town and, although stop-start for large periods as we passed homes with particularly impressive displays – including one with a giant inflatable Father Christmas in a helicopter (presumably having upgraded the sleigh) – it proved to be a rare moment of group-based joy in a year that has denied adults and children the opportunity to enjoy much together en masse.

No pantomimes, no school nativities, no carol singing, no concerts…our children have missed out on performing or taking part in  traditional Christmas activities this year. Parents have also missed out on the chance to squeeze themselves into child-sized seats in overcrowded school halls in order to shed a proud tear at their little ones’ heartfelt portrayal of Sheep No.4. The lack of PTA-funded, post-performance mincepie and mulled wine, meanwhile, hasn't helped either! 

So if you haven’t toured your local Christmas lights with your little ones yet, pick an evening when it’s not raining, wrap up warm if you’re walking – or choose your headwear carefully if you’re running – and turn a tour of your local neighbourhood’s Christmas lights into a festive highlight. Just remember to take your own mincepies.

Wishing you all a safe and happy Christmas.

Next step: Join the conversation in our Facebook Group

You might also enjoy...

The dangers of predicting December weather

Why it's wrong to assume you'll always be able to run

Following an eight week layoff due to Achilles tendinopathy, I finally dug out the base layers this week, pulled on the compression socks, spent 10 minutes warming up, a further age foam rolling my calf, strapped on my trainers, locked on to a GPS signal and headed out the door. Five minutes later I’d finished my run.

I had spent more time going to the toilet beforehand but, nevertheless, the physio’s orders stated that my first rehab run was not to be any longer, so who was I to argue? The fact that I hadn’t broken a sweat made me wonder why I had bothered to get changed in the first place, but this was the first step on the road back to running, so jeans and chunky jumper didn’t seem quite right either.

The good news is that the Achilles held out and, as long as I allow 48 hours between runs and don’t increase the duration by more than 20% each time, I should be back on the trails before too long. However, this reintroduction to running has given me a fresh perspective on the activity I have taken for granted over so many years.

For as long as I can remember, if I have wanted to run, I’ve just got changed and gone. Of course, if I am honest with myself, on most occasions I haven’t bothered to warm up properly and at the end of 90% of runs I’ve swerved stretching in favour of a hot shower and something unhealthy to eat. I have never been an advert for running best practice.

Three years ago, cancer sharpened my focus in regards to looking after my body, but despite concerted efforts to improve my diet since, and at least mimic some kind of a warm up, I have still always just assumed that I would be able to run when I wanted to. My body may not always have been physically up for it, but my mental fitness would usually ensure that I got out of the door in order to at least work out the stresses of the day.

Thankfully my cancer was successfully treated, but as other survivors will likely know, six-monthly testing also puts an incredible mental strain on one’s wellbeing. My latest blood test earlier this week once again meant my wife and I were put through the ringer until the results came back - all clear, I am pleased to say. But not being able to run through it at my usual tempo has been tough and once again made me realise just how vital running has become to my mental health as well as my physical wellbeing.

At similar times over the last few years I’ve always coped with the worry of test results by pounding the pavements or hitting the trails to prevent me from dwelling on the possibility of bad news. Running has been the self-administered therapy I’ve relied on and, again, I have taken it for granted. Like the setting of the sun or Fulham Football Club’s perennial ability to disappoint, I have just assumed that it would never change.

This Achilles injury – while obviously not as serious as so many other common runners’ woes- has at the very least shown me that I can’t just assume that I’m always going to be able to head out the door whenever I want. I’m going to need to train properly if I want to ensure that I can run for the rest of my life and that means embracing all the things that I have so blatantly ignored to date: Warming up properly, stretching properly, occasional Pilates, yoga, cross-training, swimming and, perhaps most importantly, allowing myself enough rest time (I suspect a summer of five-runs-a-week may have literally been my Achilles heel). Much of this fills me with dread. In regards to flexibility, I am to bending what chocolate tea pots are to boiling water and, in terms of coordination in an exercise class scenario, I am the bloke at the back who's about 30 seconds behind the rest of the group. The thought, therefore, of dedicating time to stretching and mobility, in an effort to transform myself from Tin Man to Jane Fonda, scares me more than the thought of signing up for another marathon tomorrow.

However, the pile of Runner’s World magazines, websites and books that I’ve read all extoll the benefits of these and other routines to the average runner’s performance and longevity. So, if I want to get back to the track, trails and hills - and stay there for years to come - it looks like I’m going to have to downward dog my way to the future.

Namaste.

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