February Microadventure: Be Bold Start Cold
7 minute read.
Wild and wonderful adventures that push my limits and fill my soul – all between nursery drop offs and pick ups.
I wondered if I’d bitten off more than I could chew since last month’s realisation of what I really wanted to get out of OOO. Was I asking too much of the meagre few hours I have to play with? Was I setting myself up to fail? Should I stop before I’ve even got started?
Then an opportunity presented itself and the voice of self-doubt was silenced.
The opportunity? Our car needed a ton of work. Annoying on the face of it but when that meant me taking our ageing Peugeot to my Uncle’s garage back home for the day, I knew exactly what I was going to do: run a section of the Cleveland Way.
Bending 175km (109mi) from Helmsley to Filey, the Cleveland Way takes in the vast countryside and coastal cliffs of the North York Moors National Park. I’ve walked a surprising chunk of this National Trail since I was a kid – Whitby to Robin’s Hood Bay; around Scarborough, Osmotherley, Runswick Bay, Skinningrove; and Saltburn to Roseberry Topping. Roseberry Topping – a 320m hill – is a staple summer stomp for Smoggies (Middlesbrough folk). I always remember Mam packing a picnic like she was feeding every passing walker, then we’d get an ice-cream from Suggitt's in Great Ayton.
Map: NationalTrail.co.uk
While I’d love to do the whole whack one day, for this little jaunt I plotted a 24km route from Staithes to Redcar. A doable distance between nursery garage drop off and pick up. I must admit, there’s something quite liberating about being able to run a really long way on a random Friday, without questioning if I can do the distance. It’s been a long road back to this after having a baby but I’m so glad I’m here again.
After working out Parental Logistics – mainly getting said baby (now toddler) to the dentist – it was a go. I was unusually organised and packed everything the night before, taking extra layers because I know just how bitterly cold the North East coast can be. Then at 7.30am, everyone dressed, fed and watered, I headed home, home. There, I dropped my car off before Dad dropped me off in Staithes, my starting point.
The North East coast is full of quaint fishing villages and Staithes is up there with the best. Built into rugged cliffs, the narrow streets and passageways lead to a higgledy-piggledy bunch of houses, a few pubs, rock pools and a small beach. It’s cosy, quiet – at least in off-season – and feels a million miles away from the daily grind. What more do you need? Dan and I booked the Grandparents Babysitting Service Ltd last month and spent a night there. This visit involved far less beer…
Since I ran on a grey day, here’s Staithes on a good day courtesy of Beniamin Şinca on Unsplash.
I spent the first 20 minutes fidgeting and pratting about. I took a photo from the Cod & Lobster (great food if you’re ever there), shuffled my pockets around for better access, loosened my trainers, put my coat on after a slight chill... In all the fuss, I managed to miss the turn off out of the village, which is ridiculous as it’s tiny.
Looping back around I was off, directly up and out of Staithes, a steep 200m+ climb to start the day. But as the saying goes ‘be BOLD start COLD’.
I stopped to take my coat off.
Then I was off, heading north up the coast.
The majority of the route was up on top of the cliffs, slightly undulating. It felt great to power along at such a height. At times the drop was only a stride away. I passed a few walkers but was largely alone with the sea. Looking out, I felt grateful to still have a connection to this place. I remember being so desperate to escape and explore the world, only now to be full of that appreciation for home you get as you get older.
The sentimental moment was fleeting… I took a sign that read ‘This walk follows the coast’ too literally and ended up down a brambly track when I should have taken a left. Another back track.
The next couple of hours seemed to blink by. There’s really not a lot along this section and there weren’t many people. It’s the perfect escape. Without needing to check the route – it was a coastal path, two wrong turns was two too many already – I could just idle along, drifting on and off of autopilot. I often wonder how far I could run in this meditative state that running often induces. What’s the furthest I could go? Where’s my limit?
Soon Saltburn was in sight. I dropped down off the cliffs, my cue to veer off the Cleveland Way and cling to the beach from here on in. If the tide is right, you can stay on the sand all the way from Saltburn to the South Gare at Teesport, which is roughly 10 miles. I wasn’t going that far today, just a couple of towns left to go.
A few walkers, some Oyster Catchers, and a handful of optimistic surfers waiting for the wave that never seems to arrive – then I reached Redcar. This was my playground in my early teenage years, granted I was more into drinking dirt-cheap cider than hiking or certainly running anywhere. With the tide still low, I carried on a little further down the beach than I’d planned, taking in as much sea air as I could before I headed back home, firmly in the countryside.
A few streets in off the beach, I stopped at the chippy by Dad’s to pick us up some lunch. At this point I should have put another layer on and started refuelling or at least stretching. I could feel my muscles tightening, tired and cold. While I waited for my order, I was getting evermore rigid, reluctant to sit down in case I couldn’t get back up again. I regretted not adding a layer even more when I stepped outside, the brisk northern air chilling my sweaty running kit. There was no other choice but to run the final stretch with fish ‘n’ chips for two under my arm.
Food was great. A hot shower was even better.
Our car was ready by mid-afternoon and I was back home in time for tea. Sitting on the sofa later that night, it was quite unbelievable that I’d run 24km along the North East coast just a few hours earlier. I wish I could bottle that feeling. But since I can’t, I’ll just have to chase it again next month.
*****
I’m running Manchester Marathon in April for Zarach, the children’s bed charity on a mission to end child bed poverty in England. Find out more and donate here.
Kit
In case you want to know. Because I always do.
Altra Lone Peak 7 trail runners
Garmin Forerunner 945
Skins compression tights
Rapha cycle jacket (also ideal for running)
Nike running gloves
Anker soundcore P20i in-ear headphones
Camelbak running bag with 1L water bladder
Veloforte energy chews
TRIBE protein flapjack
