Running the Breeze

There is blood on my hands. Dirt clings to my legs and face. Barbs grab at my ankles as I frantically try to make progress towards the track. I can hear them moving through the brush behind me, their sense of urgency as clear as mine. I see a flash of colour as one of them darts through the dense woodland and I lose my footing. I heave myself off the sturdy birch that caught my slide and leap down a small drop, praying I don't snag my ankle and the clawing brambles; now is not the time to take a tumble. I am starting to feel desperate, I must find it soon.  No, I am not being chased by some wild assailants or on the desperate hunt for some exciting treasure. I’m not even running the Barkley marathons….this is orienteering!...Although I might be doing it wrong... In November I attended my first orienteering event organised by Newcastle and Tyneside Orienteers (NATO) set in the beautiful Simonside hills. A few months ago, one of the organisers of that event got in touch t

For people who don't run it can sometimes be difficult to understand why someone would choose to get up before dawn, go out in the cold and wet, and tire yourself out only to arrive back where you started. It would then be even harder to understand why anyone would want to travel all the way to  Nepal to run a marathon. Nepal is still a long way off at the moment but as we start to think about our prep, it got me thinking about this question. So where did this running thing all start?