This is one of my old running tracks up north. It's called The Monks' Trod (that's the North Sea in the background), part of a network that leads to Whitby Abbey. Solid sandstone slabs zap across the Yorkshire moors for miles. Been there for ever. Uneven? Errr .. yes. But I've run it in snow/ice many times, with no danger. The monks knew what they were doing.  I don't think they were joggers, tho. The trod can take you to pretty, warm villages, or to 20 miles and more on the high plateau with no people at all. I've spent whole days running up there.  In London, like everyone, I'm stuck for equivalents.

So I go to Richmond Park, which has bronze age burial mounds, fresh air and great views, just like the Yorkshire moors but warmer. Used to live near the Park and ran it daily back then. Now it's the opposite corner of town. This helps me combine two pleasures: walking long distances in the city, and running the park-that's-like-the-countryside.  As a student in Norwich, before I ever went to London, I read about Ezra Pound and Ralph Vaughan Williams, both (not together) covering huge distances on foot, in and around the city. RVW would sometimes walk home to Dorking from the Royal Albert Hall. Pound pounded the pavements for hours. He ended up on the far right, went crazy and was imprisoned. Ralph voted Labour, became an aged institution and had more sex than we ever thought likely.

So whenever I'm in London, I walk as much as poss. Today did about 20-odd-k quick walk through town, then about the same distance running the park. The Monks' Trod can feature adders, for the unwary jogger. But Richmond Park is unthreatening, beyond the occasional kamikaze cyclist. It's a kingdom of trees, patrolled by deer, and it's not quite tamed. Today I ran right through a small group of antlerheads in long grass, both of us too surprised to react. That was great. The left leg was not at all great, but again it feels better, now, and I could have run further, in theory. So I'll see if the leg needs an emotional rescue, tomorrow.