Flooding
Written by close friend of Evolution Trail Anna Parsons
It's January 1st and you've eaten your body weight in food, gorging on every mince pie and turkey sandwich that has come your way. So much so that by new year your stomach is aching due to the excess food it is having to deal with. But here we are at the turn of the year, what better time to make a resolution, sign up to the gym, stop drinking or as in our case sign up for Red January. Red January is an annual event to make sure people get out every day and exercise.
How hard can it be? Running is ingrained in our lives, so pledging to run every day for a month surely won't be that difficult? Will it? Then with every passing day, January does its utmost to hamper your progress. Firstly, the temperatures drop, so we go and buy that extra warm top, a base layer and a nice pair of gloves - we're toasty warm again.
Then comes the ice, making every path or road into a potential ice rink, with the danger of slipping and causing a muscle injury or worse still a broken bone. So we go out and we buy a nice pair of trail shoes with extra grip, maybe even some spikes to give maximum purchase on the smooth service. This gets us quite a long way, we no longer have to worry about the floor as much and although we may not be racking up the PBs at least we are out there pounding the streets.
Next comes the rain, merely annoying at first as it splashes against your exposed skin. Then as the weather gets worse you suddenly find you are running into a wall of water that persistently drives against your forehead. It doesn't take long until your frontal lobe is so numb, that you want nothing more than to be stood in front of a warm fire to dry your aching bones. However, after a few days of rain, you become inoculated to the constant drenching, even quite enjoying the steady drizzle that cools you down on a long run.
The problem is with each day the rain keeps coming and gradually the water levels begin to rise. The routes that had been previously so easy to navigate are now several feet deep in ice-cold, smelly water. So day 20 we headed out, as usual, the route lined with puddles as the rain collected in the potholes, we skipped through them no longer fearful of wet feet. But then as we turned the corner to head back along the path that ran by the side of the river, we found the path no longer remained and in its place, the river had grown.
Foolish as it may now seem, we sought to take on this newly formed waterway and strode valiantly out where once there had been a solid walkway. It soon became apparent, that the ground below us was further than we thought, and out stomach tightened against the cold water which seeped into our trainers and permeated our socks. Our feet by this point were as cold as ice and our phones perched precipitously above the waterline.
At this point we retreated, and headed to higher ground, the freezing water passing just below us. We made it up the hill, the warmth returning to our limbs, gradually, as we looked down on the transformed woodland, no longer a myriad of paths, but a strong flowing river. We continued on the high ground as we limped around the last 5k, we'd rescued Red January, our daily run intact. But only just.