Flood Running: Flunning.

Today was my first off-road run of 2013 and my first since a traumatic body-building workout with Robser Le Monster.

I decided to try a 10km route my dad showed me before I ran the Wycombe Half Marathon in 2011. So, to the sounds of Apocalyptic Love by Slash, I headed out into the chilly February evening.

After 2km, I was ready to go home; my knees hurt from sliding in the mud, my already painful spine was jarring with every step that landed in a hole, and the brambles were tearing at my arms.

It was about then I discovered the water. Yes, the water.

Unbeknownst to me, the River Thames is quite high at the moment about about a kilometre of my route had been flooded. When I say flooded, there were ducks and geese swimming across the fields. It was the first time I’ve ever wanted a camera on a run.

Turning back (or acting with any sense), however, is both tedious and lame. Thus, with the disturbingly green liquid lapping at my balls, I trudged on at a variety of paces from ‘adventurous stride’ to ‘pissed off wading’. At no point, luckily, did I have to swim. Things weren’t that bad.

The water cleared by around the 3km mark, but by 4km or 5km I was wondering why I was still running. Everything hurt. Apart from my lungs, which seems to be holding up.

Come 6km, however, I was back on a levle surface and had found my stride. By the time I hit 8km (running through a cemetary, I believe) I was on a high – I practically sprinted home, even finding the energy to sing along to the last few tracks of the album, hurdle occassional patches of flooded and nail a sprint finish up Abbey Road.

Overall, I clocked a bad time for under 11km. Then again, considering it was off-road and I had to wade through flood water for a a tenth of the route, I think I did OK.

Run 2013

About the Author
Ed Gamester is a silly man who lives in the United Kingdom. He is the harbinger of Ghost Squad, singer of Gay Bum and author of A Rum Run Awry. He fights, kills and dies for TV and films, and gallivants around the place wrestling, drinking and lifting things for glory and profit. Where Ed treads, there stamp the boots of the Guild. Ed does not wear glasses, but feels this photograph makes him look more intelligent and artistically talented than he is. Feel free to contact him: he is disappointingly affable.

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