The Best Laid Plans and All That

Today I had planned a 15 mile run which I intended to take nice and steady: the ideal opportunity to take some photos I thought to myself.  Now, I haven't run this particular route as a route before, however I have run all the different elements of it on other runs so I thought I would put them all together.  Go me.  Or not as the case may be.  It all started off innocently enough, left home around 6.30am and headed straight to the canal:

This was meant to be a scenic photo of the

canal (to my right).  Maybe 6.40am was a tad early

to be taking scenic photographs.

 

So down the side of the canal, across a boggy field and then up the hill towards Roundway.  Still too dark to take photos by this point however I had a cunning plan; more cunning than a cunning fox who holds a degree in cunningness.  My route up Roundway is not very far from the route down which I intended to take on my way back so I thought I would photograph this part of the route later on.  You wouldn't have known it was taken out of sequence.  See, I told you it was a cunning plan.  So, up Roundway, across the top and then up a bit more to be confronted with this track:

 

Lovely bit of mud that, classic consistency.  Oh, and Rommel

trying to get in on the act.

 

So having picked my way round that lot (no easy feat let me tell you) I then set off across the ridge towards the twin towers:

 

There they are, look in the distance, can you see them?  The two

radio masts just to the left of the clump of trees on the hill? (You may want

to click on the photo to enlarge).

 

Of course it's not a straight route to get to them, oh no that would be far too easy, so they are about 4 miles away from where I am now.  Plodding on, through a barn full of cows (well, not through the barn itself of course, that would be silly, however I wish I had gone through the barn, reckon my shoes would have come out cleaner than trying to skirt around it through the heady mixture of muck, mud and silage that was the track at this point).  Part of the route goes down the side of a golf course:

 

The golf course.  What do you mean it looks just like a field?  There,

can't you see the little red flag to the left of the photo?  This footpath

skirts the edge of the course but there is one that goes right

through the middle of it.  I always feel like I'm taking my life

in my hands running that one so I try to avoid it.

 

A bit further on, across the road and heading up towards the twin towers.  This track also leads (eventually) to Cherhill Monument:

 

A view towards Calne.  To the right of the photo you can just

make out Cherhill Monument on the top of the hill (again, you may

wish to enlarge for clarity).  I have run this route many times, bloody hell

it looks a long way.  Probably because it is.

 

So everything is still going swimmingly at this point and I'm heading up towards the twin towers which, by the calculations I made on my map last night, mark my halfway point:

Made it!

 

Past the towers and I am on a track known as Wansdyke.  Everything is still going according to plan, I am confident of my route (although, in fairness, it's hard to go wrong when you are following an earthworks) but, unbeknown to me, my run is soon to turn to worms.  All too soon in fact.  Leaving the Wansdyke, it is at this point that it all goes horribly wrong.  I come to a track and, without a moment's hesitation I branch to the left and carry on.  And on.  And on.  And on.  Now, bearing in mind that I mentioned earlier about having run all the elements of the route before, you think after the first mile or so that I would be questioning why I didn't recognise the route I was on.  Yes, you'd think that wouldn't you?  But no, like a bloody fool I just kept going and going.  And going.  I eventually came to a road and it was only at this point that I questioned myself about where I was as I was definitely not where I was expecting to be.  I was completely disorientated and, more to the point, my Garmin had just clocked up 10 miles.  I would like to take this opportunity to reassure you Dear Reader that I was not lost; I know I was not lost because when I looked behind me I could still see the twin towers.  Three miles or so away, but I could still see them.  And it was a this point that realisation sank in.  The route I should have taken, the one that would have led me back towards the golf club, skirted the clump of trees that were not far from the twin towers.  The clump of trees that I could see now, three miles or so away from where I was.  With sinking heart I took the only sensible option open to me and turned round and headed back towards the twin towers.  I have now learnt, to my cost, that there is nothing more soul destroying than having to retrace your steps on a run; made even more soul destroying when retracing your steps also means running back up the hill that you have just run down.  I was also on a tight time schedule as I promised Other Half I would be back by 9.30am as he wanted to make a start on the kitchen today so I had to be there to look after Boys One and Two.  Well, it was now 8.40am and with another 9 miles or so to run I took the only other course open to me; I rang Other Half and asked him to come and pick me up.  We agreed to meet at the golf course (I was confident I could make my way back there!) and that is what we did.  I clocked up exactly 13 miles running past the club house and there ended my run.  Ignominiously.