The morning after the day before and I’m feeling strangely human. Surprisingly normal. Slightly woolly headed, but nothing severe. It seems to be mixing drinks that causes those next-day difficulties. Yesterday it was just beer-beer-beer, and this simple strategy has paid off.
We arrived at Sweder’s around 10:30. Our first time in Lewes, but the trip down the A23 from the known world was pretty painless. It puzzles me that so many people get anxious and disorientated about having to find a place they’ve not been to before. I’d put the address into Google maps, saw immediately the best route, made a one-line note on the back of an envelope, and didn’t give it a further thought. ‘Other people’ would have spent half the previous evening poring over maps, writing up and printing directions, and fretting about alterntive strategies in case of roadworks.
Tentatively, we crept in through the open front door, and wandered round for a while. Gulp. This was like one of those movies where the music starts to get louder and more threatening, just before the corpses come into view. But hang on, here’s Sweder, looking rather surprised to see us. Nice lived-in house, with dogs and kids popping up here and there, and reassuring evidence of food and drink. Moyleman of this parish was aready there, and shortly after, Nigel materialised. We said farewell to the womenfolk and set off on the run.
This was the legendary trek up to Blackcap, Sweder’s much-described regular lope with the dogs. For me, it was a tough run. Nigel struggled a bit too, but coped. For Sweder and Chris it seemed little more than a casual jog.
It makes sense. I never run on grass, and a hill is a special occasion. It was never going to be easy, but that’s the very reason I’m glad I did it. It seems pointless to avoid hill running. If your objective is to reduce the challenge and the difficulty, then the logical step is to make it even easier by staying at home. An even better reason for including hills in a balanced running diet is the aesthetics. The views up there are stunning, though I had to keep remembering to look. It seemed more natural to gaze at my feet as I fought to make that next step up the slope.
Sweder reminded me that for most of the year, conditions underfoot were nowhere near as friendly as they were today. Regular rain reduced the path to a muddy slick. I didn’t like to imagine it.
We weren’t alone. Early on, we passed a large group of horses and riders, much to the delight of Ash’s three dogs. Beyond that, we passed a steady trickle of beaming walkers.
Two and a half painful miles later, I joined the others at the trig point atop Black Cap. In various stages of repose, they’d evidently been there for some time…
Superb views through the hills to Brighton and Newhaven, and down to Lewes. I could see why the lad enthuses so much about his patch of heaven with its performing clouds.
The return half was easier on the legs, and on the spirit. At last, there seemed to be some space in my head for thought. I was thinking that most runners seem to have a sort of default run, and this one is Sweder’s. To do someone else’s run is to learn something about them. It’s a bit like meeting their family for the first time. Something falls into place. I could envisage the chap vanishing into the early-morning mist with his gleeful dogs in pursuit, and I suddenly understood a little more.
It wasn’t a long outing, but pretty intense in places. I didn’t find the upward leg easy, but I’m glad I did it. As I often say, it’s not the doing but the having-done that I enjoy, and this was certainly true for this run. How good to see the steep stretch of track that starts the route, come back into view.
Work done, it was time to shower and relax in front of Sweder’s impressive 42-incher for some brief entertainment. The cricket was just getting under way. Is disappointment more palatable in high definition? I suspect so. A short while later we were supping the first of several pints in the first of several pubs. Mainly Harvey’s, the excellent local ale.
Oh god. Having a few glasses of beer in the pub, with some mates, on the way to the match. On a sunny afternoon. After a run. Does it get much better than this? I doubt it.
It was good to experience the famous, if enigmatically-monikered, Dripping Pan at first hand.
Just what is a dripping pan? According to my Google search, it is “a pan for catching drippings”. What a relief to learn the truth.
OK, so it actually says “a pan for catching drippings under roasting meat”, which, under a warm East Sussex sun, was actually quite an appropriate name.
For the record, the match was somewhat uneventful in the first half, but started to struggle out of its easy chair in the second, and even threatened to become exciting here and there. Two well-executed goals saw the Rooks defeat the cream of East London, despite the victors finishing with 10 men. Nigel, a Hammers fan, seemed crestfallen but unsurprised, while the other three of us chortled, enjoying his discomfiture in the way that football fans do.
Back to the pub for a few swifties before returning to Ranch Sweder to meet up with Rog and his charming daughter, Ruby, and to feast on the fruits of Sweder’s barbecue. We lost track of exactly whose sausages we were wolfing down, but they were all superb. A couple more pints of Harvey’s and the day was complete.
At around ten o’clock, with Nigel and Chris and Rog safely out of the way, it seemed like a good opportunity to suggest to the Swede that we should crack open the bottle of Champagne I’d brought. Shockingly, he wasn’t up to it. In retrospect, almost certainly a good thing. It meant that M and I got home at a reasonable time (before midnight), and that today I can think straight.
A splendid day out, stuffed with pleasure from start to finish. One of those occasions that makes you think: this really should be an annual event.
A public thank you to the great man, his long-suffering wife, and to Nigel and Chris for a memorable day. And to M for ferrying home this grinning, gurgling humanoid. Very nice to meet Rog and Ruby too.
Flickr Pictures here: Lewes 2007 – Sweder’s BBQ
