White Horse Hill - 20 miles

This is Whitehorse Hill (Wiltshire) in the distance. It was an iron age hill fort for the Celts and has a 400ft. wide white horse carved on the hillside. The road you see is the Ridgeway, a 5000 year old road that cuts through the heart of southern England. I am about to run up it on a very cold but sunny Winters day. The Horse itself is a genuine bronze age chalk engraving widely associated with the Celtic Goddess Epona (but that's probably a load of bol***ks). You can't really see it from the ground. No one knows why they drew it but I guess the celts loved horses, and the area is still a big horse trading area because of the soft ground for training.There are many ancient burial sites here like Wayland Smithy, connected with the Saxon God of Blacksmiths, Weland, who purportedly forged Beowulfs chainmail shirt.This whole area vibrates with the memory of the indigenous people of Britain which is why I enjoy running here. It once would've been border country between the Saxon Kings of Wessex (fighting to defend England) and the Northern Danelaw or "Vikings" who have now thankfully been beaten back to their strongholds in places like Newcastle.I really feel like I'm connecting with something when I'm here. This doesn't tend to happen on short runs, you have to go further. The exhaustion of the long runs makes the experience stick in your mind for months, and the wild countryside seems to seep into you when you're alone on these trails.

The whole day really lifted me after what has been a difficult winter. In all the 20 miles took about 5 hours , mainly because I kept stopping and perpetrating unspeakable acts. I would definitely like to run the whole of the Ridegway this Spring. It's 87 miles in total and such a great route, entirely cross country.

Barbury Castle to somewhere & back. 17 miles. 3 hours

This was my fifth run out on the Ridgeway this winter. I usually do between 13 & 20 miles. Hilariously bad map reading saw me running parallell to my intended route for almost the entire journey. I immediately missed the sign for the Ridgeway having of course done my customary night of no sleep. I proceeded down a track which is specifically designed to break in the worlds hardest tanks. All the time I could see the Ridgeway up on -the Ridge (what on earth was it doing up there?!). This was accompanied by expletives and an extreme inability to forgive myself (alcoholics speciality).
I rejoined the Ridgeway only to lose it again almost immediately. I completed the remainder of my outward journey through a grotty myre of sludge in a misty valley bottom. After surrendering to my loss I found myself suddenly and inexplicably on the correct path. Back up on the windswept ridge the downland opened up. Marlborough is a beautiful area marred only by its population, who have horses instead of legs, and who appear to have had their tongues removed.
I hit the wall bang on 15 miles again. I can't describe the perverted enjoyment of running in agony to non-runners. It's a bit like loving tight shoes for the thrill of taking them off. The pleasure comes from literally feeling the fat burning off and then stopping & consuming a village sized choclate bar.
I felt redeemed-I hadn't given up, merely missed my mark. The original definition of sin, in archery terminology, is to shoot wide (note to all recovering people). My original intentions had yet again been laughably derailed. I learnt things though - use a compass, read the map, pay attention, assume responsibilty.
I stopped in Avebury on the way back where, upon finding myself pennyless and light headed I actually jumped the counter of the local post office and performed a vicious sugar raid. Then again in the next village, and the next... Ten minutes from my destination on the edge of Bristol I actually had to stop and sleep for 2 hours in the layby because I was blacking out at the wheel.