Over The Contours

Some things are found by chance; the inaugural Dartford Heath parkrun was one of them. Friday, I was eating my lunch and killing time between meetings by exploring the parkrun map. By pure chance I inadvertently zoomed into the west Kent area and noticed two parkrun icons in the Dartford region. Strange. I knew about the existing Dartford parkrun, but I wasn't aware of anything else nearby. I quickly discovered this was the Dartford Heath parkrun and that this was due to have its inaugural event the very next day. I know there's something of an unwritten rule that tourists (and pseudo-tourists like me) should avoid inaugural events in order to not overload the volunteer team and cause unnecessary work, however, the serendipity of finding this event and the fact that it would start the very next day, well....surely it was a sign! I decided I'd break the unwritten rule and make the 55 minute journey to Dartford... I was in the same county at least. The course is on the h

This is a parkrun that's nearby, but not so nearby you could just nip up the road to do it. Nonetheless, I'm keen to finish all of the parkruns in Kent and I'd heard really good things about the Royal Tunbridge Wells one, so decided to make the 100 mile round trip on this lovely bank holiday weekend. I set out nice and early in the morning sunshine which was probably for the best as I was soon passed by a precession of Police cars along the M2. I only realised they were heading in the same direction as I was when I reached the A249 and was confronted with a huge queue of traffic. In the distance I could see smoke billowing around three or four miles up the road. I was extremely lucky; had I have been perhaps two or three metres up the tarmac, I would have missed the one and only opportunity to do a u-turn...a tiny access ramp between the carriageways. Anyway, a u-turn is just what I did and I quickly re-routed via Blue Bell Hill. So, at around 8.30am I pulled into Dunor

Sunday 8th April 2018… my second crack at the Greater Manchester Marathon. Abigail and I had spent the week in the Lake District, so my preparation and discipline went well out of the window in the week before the event. However, I’d trained harder than I’d ever done before and covered far more miles than I had done with the London and Bournemouth Marathons, and indeed last year’s Greater Manchester Marathon. A nice easy drive into Trafford from Northwich set the day up nicely. Me being me, I’d arrived stupidly early, so once I’d located the car parks at Old Trafford, I had about 90 minutes to wait for the athlete’s village to open. By the time I reached the athlete’s village it was already very busy and I was shivering (more with nerves than actual cold). A crowded bag-drop didn’t help, but I was soon out on Bridgewater Way and picking my way over to Start Point B. There was an acceptance this time around; I’d put in the hard miles and knew that I was capable of 24 miles, on a