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December 17, 2007

Aren't your knees cold?

On Sunday I ran up to Firle Beacon and back and was asked by a passing horsewoman, 'aren't your knees cold?' The  answer is that they weren't, although there was a strong bitingly cold wind. I rarely wear long trousers for running, only when there is snow on the ground, and on  his occasion wore a t-shirt and running fleece on top. I find my upper body feels the cold far more acutely than my lower.
The downs looked very Ravilious-like in the winter sun. At Firle Beacon itself, I saw the Exmoor ponies once more. They huddle together with a prehistoric air, as wild as a herd of Eohippus or Przewalski's horse.
Time: 1:24:40
Distance: 8.24
Pace: 10.16 (best 7.48)

Also to be recorded, a Friday run round Stanmer Park with Jana and Sian 

Time: 19:19
Distance: 1.93
Pace: 9.31 (best 6.42)

Posted at 04:49 PM |

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  • Personal bests 2004-
    10k: Brighton Reebok 10k, November 20, 2005 0:45:25
    10 miles: Seaford Striders Mince Pie Ten Mile, December 12, 2004 01:25:19
    20K: Firle 20k, September 28, 2008 2:06:52
    Half-marathon: Hastings Half Marathon, March 12, 2006 01:42:23
    20 miles: Jog Shop Jog, October 15, 2006 03:24:46
    Marathon: Isle of Wight Marathon, May 21, 2006 04:10:40

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What does the Greek in the banner mean?

  • χαιρέτε νικὠμεν
    χαιρέτε νικὠμεν means "Greetings, we've won" and are the words attributed by Plutarch and Lucian to the runner who brought news of victory at the battle of Marathon to the people of Athens. They both wrote some six hundred years after the battle and the story is unlikely. Herodotus, who was closer to events, writes of a runner called Pheidippides who ran from Athens to Sparta to ask for help before the battle, but says nothing of a run to tell the Athenians of the victory. "So, when Persia was dust, all cried, 'To Akropolis!
    Run, Pheidippides, one race more! the meed is thy due!
    "Athens is saved, thank Pan," go shout!' He flung down his shield
    Ran like fire once more: and the space 'twixt the Fennel-field
    And Athens was stubble again, a field which a fire runs through,
    Till in he broke: 'Rejoice, we conquer!' Like wine through clay,
    Joy in his blood bursting his heart, he died--the bliss!"
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