Back in Somerset this is Crowcombe Hill under over a foot of snow. A good slog but not runnable. Thank heavens! The sign is for an escape lane - presumably for the snowboarders who had also been playing barflies into the slope at the right! I joined them for a bit of a cool-off.
At the end of nine miles I was rewarded with some sunshine. A beautiful day to be snowed in!
The snow here is pretty frozen but every footfall was accompanied by a deeply satisfying, crisply cryogenic, crunch. Heaven on the knees and suprisingly effortless.
A day after it snowed it froze. This lane in Oxfordshire was like an ice rink and impossible to run on. I did manage to stay upright but I did feel like getting down on all fours at times.
I came across this bovine behemoth shortly after the snow started. He stands over six feet at the shoulders but thinks at an appropriately glacial pace given the weather and his kinship with the Pleistocene megafauna. You can see that he is quite perplexed by the snow which has, cunningly, hidden all his grass!
They say there is nothing like a charging pachyderm to concentrate the mind - so it did and so I ran.
Actually, he's a big softy - albeit with a tongue that could sculpt concrete!
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