Stumbling into my 50th year seemed exactly the right time to attempt a half marathon. Five years ago this week, that attempt crashed, howled and limped off into rehab never to return. Post that injury, which kept me off the bike longer than any actual riding related incidents, the running shoes have moved only between dusty shelves in the shoe cupboard.

I ran 5km on the beach path in Gran Canaria in 2019 whilst on holiday with Aid. Mostly as a buffer against the mountain of food and booze I was ploughing through on a daily basis. I remember it being hot and horrible. It’s also my last recorded run on Strava.

I’ve never enjoyed running. I’m really not very good at it. It tends to cause injuries – and not just when I’m not painfully face planting in the local woods. Even without professionally diagnosed broken body parts, everything aches.  That’s not much of a coda to start again.

So I’m not. Not training for an event, not trying to run very far, not running on the road and not trying to hit some narrow metric that no one cares about*. Instead I’m taking advantage of a single wood accessed from the dog walking assembly point. Carol meets up daily with mutt owning friends for an hours peramble around a flat-ish circuit.

Which means I can jump in her car, all runner-geared up**, head into the woods at a slightly higher speed than the dog wranglers, loop back to the car about thirty minutes later, quick stretch, fleece and wellies on and walk back to meet them in a parody of a cool down effort.

Got to complete the run first though,  as the woods are slick and slippy. There’s not much elevation (85m) in the 5km circuit, but every gravity edged metre is flashbacking me back to that 2018 ankle catastrophe.  Even the flat bits are hard with the soft ground shifting sideways under now sodden feet. It’s a proper workout, so it’ll be a while before I don’t walk some of it.

On the upside, it’s a upgrade on road running. I’m shrouded by the woods, in amongst the trees is my happy place.  While riding alone bores me, running doesn’t- I don’t want any company, any competition, anyone to try and talk to with limited breath.

Also I’ve no interest in extending the circuit or upping the frequency. A run is a turbo session I don’t need to do. It forces me to stretch properly and fits nicely into my vaguely coherent approach to ‘doing stuff other than riding bikes‘.  In a couple of months, the ground cover will spring from the muddy forest floor.

A few weeks after that there’ll be fence to field edge wild garlic and bluebells. Slowly the green canopy will return, and I’ll dump the winter gear to scare fellow forest users with pasty legs dangling from budget running shorts.

Right now tho, it’s just a case of getting round without falling over. I accept this isn’t much of a stretch for a normal human, but I’m dangerous at any speed and without the gyroscopic effect of two 29inch wheels, staying upright is not a given.

I’ve spent longer writing this than running my single effort so far. Once a week is the plan which may appear to lack ambition. But pesky customers tend to want virtual engagement at 9am, and it’s hard to see how that and being breathless outside are compatible.

Really it’s more of a back handed swipe at my ‘plans‘ to work less. This is the year I tell myself on the 1st of January ever single time. Could 2023 be the charm? Work less, run not much, ride more, remained uninjured?

Doubt it. But sitting in this chair isn’t going to move the needle. If nothing else recording my paltry efforts as ‘trail runs’ make me laugh. Strava really need a category for ‘laboured middle aged jogging‘ because that’s all I’m doing!

*My plan was not to record the runs. But I’ve not been able to wean myself off Strava yet. I’m just going to ignore my zero progression.

**with my internet-sourced / MTB crossover kit that would likely get me expelled from any proper running club. One of the many reasons I’ll never join one.