Birds of a feather

Low tide at Rhossili with Worm's Head in the distance

So Rhossili has been awarded third place in a list of best European beaches.

In a survey of worldwide tourists by TripAdvisor the windswept Welsh beach, popular with families and dog walkers alike, was beaten only by Rabbit Beach at Lampedusa, Sicily, and Playa de las Catedrales in Ribadeo, Galicia, Spain.

In the unlikely event that any reader hasn’t visited Rhossili, this magnificent three-mile stretch of sand lies on the tip of the Gower peninsula.

Thousands visit Rhossili annually to stroll along the beach, surf its waves and splash around in the sea.  As a tourist destination, Rhossili offers everything: miles of white sand, (at low tide) several shipwrecks, a public house, cafes, a National Trust shop, toilets, two small tidal islands and, most important, a large car park.

Two miles to the north, and tucked just behind Burry Holms, lies an equally beguiling stretch of sand but here the similarity ends. 

Whiteford Sands is largely ignored by the crowds

Unlike its buzzing, tourist-friendly, cash-grabbing neighbour, Whiteford Sands has no amenities and requires a ten minute walk from the nearest car park at Llanmadoc. 

Wild ponies graze the mud flats near Whiteford Sands

Our preferred route around Whiteford Point takes a good deal longer but passes some of the Gower’s most contrasting scenery and provides plenty of photographic opportunities, e.g. wild ponies grazing on the mud flats.

Now Rhossili has been crowned one of the top European beaches it’s likely to encourage even greater numbers to explore its attractions, leaving the peace and tranquility of Whiteford Sands to the locals and ‘those in the know’.

It’s the same story in the Brecon Beacons. The National Park's own website claims it is visited annually by ‘some 3.8 million people who spend around 4.2 million days there’.

So are the mountains thronging with hikers, trekking in convoy over the ridges?  The mere thought makes me chuckle.

Last spring and summer, Harri and I completed over 20 walks for inclusion in Harri’s forthcoming book on the Brecon Beacons for Vertebrate Publishing. 

Most days we saw hardly saw anyone at all, except when we ventured into villages and towns. Occasionally, we might pass a couple of hikers, or even more rarely, a small group of walkers, but more often we had great expanses of Welsh mountain all to ourselves. 

The truth is that the only places in the Brecon Beacons where you can reasonably expect to encounter large groups of walkers are on the well-walked trails leading to the twin peaks of Pen y Fan and Corn Du and in the popular waterfalls area at Ystradfellte. Hike anywhere else in the Brecon Beacons and it’s quite possible, and very probable on drizzly, grey days, that you’ll not pass another person all day. 

That’s right. No-one. Anywhere. There are more sheep than people in this part of Wales. 

I recall watching a television programme several years ago which rated the ‘must-see’ places in the world. No prizes for guessing which large American gorge came top of the list. Tourist after tourist gushed over the Grand Canyon – almost to a person describing it as ‘awesome’ – though few had done much more than gaze across the mile-wide chasm before turning their attention to the man-made attractions which line the cliff top.

Bryce Canyon, Utah with not a cafe or shop in sight

A few months later, we were there ourselves, having first visited the rather more accessible and equally stunning (if far less frequently raved about) Zion and Bryce Canyons in Southern Utah.

‘There’s only so much red rock you can look at,’ Alanna pronounced, at eight clearly unimpressed by this geological monster of nature.

Flicking through an old guidebook recently, I read that almost all visitors to the Grand Canyon visit the South Rim (the hotels, cafes, gift shops, 3D cinemas, etc, are located here) where they spend just 40 minutes of their two-three hour visit looking at the canyon. North Rim is apparently just too far off the beaten track for the majority.

It’s exactly the same story in Madeira, where coach loads of tourists flock to Monte for the toboggan run or to Rabaçal for the waterfalls. Not that either of these places isn't beautiful and well worth seeing, of course, but so is the magnificent and largely deserted high plateau of the Paul do Serra. 

St Ives: the most visited resort in Cornwall

In Cornwall, the big draw is St Ives, where on a rainy day in August, we were hard-pushed to find standing room in a pub. 

In Pembrokeshire, it's St David's that attracts the madding crowds (Harri will never forgive me for having to queue twice in a heaving beer garden for two halves of cider because, as I maintain, ladies don't drink pints!). 

Everyone, it seems, flocks to the same places for no reason other than these are the places that people flock. In our hundreds, we swarm into the pubs, cafes and gift shops that spring up in response to demand, though in some instances the natural landscape is so inaccessible, the commercial landscape now appears to be the main attraction, e.g. Cheddar Gorge, Tintagel. 

It often makes me wonder if humans really are birds of a feather… or just sheep?

 Birds... or just sheep? 

Starter for ten

The snow-covered cliff tops above Marros Sands

There’s nothing quite as exciting as starting a new project, be it a script, a diet or a walking book.

Last week, against a bleak and snowy backdrop, we started our on-the-ground research for Harri’s latest commission: a top 10 walks guidebook to complement his official Wales Coast Path book (Amroth to Swansea Marina)

The top 10 format has already proved a great success for its publisher, Northern Eye Books.

These beautifully designed little books cost just £4.99 and provide clear directions, Ordnance Survey maps, eye-grabbing panoramic photographs and interpretation of points of interest along the way.

Until recently only walks in the Lake District, Peak District and the Yorkshire Dales

were covered, however the good news is that publishers Carl Rogers and Tony Bowerman have decided to roll out the format to include circular walks along the Wales Coast Path. It’s a great idea and will hopefully encourage many more people to explore Wales’ beautiful coastline and nearby countryside.

Still on solid ground - the steps above Pendine 

First to be published in the Wales series was fellow Outdoor Writers Guild member Sioned Bannister’s offering on Cardigan Bay North (available direct from Northern Eye).  

Sioned is the OWG social media expert and she has written a great little book, which I know Harri and I are going to find extremely useful on future holidays. (And in the mean time, we can just enjoy looking at those gorgeous panoramic photographs.)

The snow had all but disappeared when we left Newport but, as we travelled along the M4 corridor, we could see it was a different picture further inland. We later learned that snow had caused widespread disruption in Carmarthenshire the previous day.

‘Do you think snow settles on sand?’ I pondered and, for once, my personal sage could not provide the answer.

There's nothing to beat sun, sea... and snow

There was an empty car park at Pendine and almost nobody about, but we duly paid our £3 parking charge and pulled on extra layers.

My heart sank when Harri headed past the seafront café and towards the steps leading to the cliff top. Now perhaps it would be wise to check in advance what’s expected of me on any given walk, but strangely I always forget to ask pertinent questions like ‘where are we going?’ and Harri sensibly omits to mention words like ‘steep’ ‘mud-bath’ or ‘arduous’ in his pre-walk briefings.

The uphill section was actually fine. There was no ice underfoot and the view across the snow-covered Pendine Sands was spectacular. We trudged across the cliff top in crisp, clean snow, relishing the crunching underfoot and the snow-laden gorse bushes.

It was only when we began to descend to Morfa Bychan beach that things started to become a bit hairy. Mud, it would seem, doesn’t always dry out underneath snow but, when the temperature isn't low enough, lies there oozing and squelchy, ready to send the unsuspecting hiker sliding down the mountainside on their backside. I tiptoed along, envisioning my fate, concerned about doing more damage to an already dodgy right foot, begging Harri to turn back.

Of course, we didn’t because Harri has a book to write and we must walk every inch of every walk – even those which are ultimately rejected. Instead, we headed straight up the opposite cliff, towards Marros Sands. 

One of Carmarthenshire's churned up fields,
 temporarily covered by snow

I’ve written about this section of the Wales Coast Path several times already so I’m not going to repeat myself. Suffice to say, it’s not pleasant when conditions are wet… and, once again, they were.

A short distance inland and the walking conditions immediately improved, lifting my spirits.

The village of Marros boasts a camping site, a church and an unusual war memorial, modelled on nearby Neolithic tombs. We lunched briefly on the stone benches in the church porch, but it was too cold to linger and we were soon on our way again.

The final stretch of the walk was stunning scenery-wise, however I struggled to get warm again. As we descended into a wooden valley, we came across a stunning log cabin, presumably a holiday let in the warmer months.

The Marros war memorial and church

At low tide, it’s possible to walk from Marros Sands to Pendine along the beach but the timing wasn’t right for us so we walked up an old cobbled path and emerged at the top of Pendine.

The day was closing in, but it seemed too early to head to our functional Travelodge room, so we decided to warm ourselves in Spring Well public house. For anyone who doesn’t know it, the Spring Well is the sort of pub every village/small town should have –  friendly if slightly eccentric locals willing to entertain passing strangers, a heavenly log-burning fire, ginger wine, but best of all, its very own kitler.

This walk may or may not make the final ten but seeing Stella the cat twitching her little grey moustache made the day's cold and muddy conditions worthwhile.

Stella has no idea why she attracts so much attention

(S)now you see them, (s)now you don't

Rhiwderin and the scene that greeted us from our bedroom window

What is it about fresh snowfall that persuades otherwise sedentary souls to brave the great outdoors and take to the streets in their boots and bobble hats?

The recent snow hit Rhiwderin overnight and we looked out on Friday morning to see our little village transformed into a winter wonderland of white rooftops and eerie quiet.  

‘Twas well into rush hour, but the scene was bizarre, not a vehicle was stirring, not even a car.

People walking alongside the River Ebbw

Despite the Tory rhetoric, there are some definite advantages to not being involved in gainful employment; one of them is removing the need to risk life and limb to reach an empty office ten miles away and spend the day emailing people who have made equally hair-raising journeys to their own place of work. Little actual work gets done, people arrive late and leave early, hoping to avoid a gruelling drive home in life-threatening conditions (but when your line manager refuses to embrace home-working, what alternative is there?).

In the UK – and despite considerable technological advances – a few centimetres of snow is still capable of changing everyday life beyond recognition. Roads close or become hazardous, supermarket shoppers act like it’s Christmas and most schools close, on health and safety grounds, at the first snowflake. And back to panic buying, why it is always milk and bread? Why not pasta and ready curries? That’s what most of us eat.

Me impersonating Marge in Fargo

However, the most noticeable change in snowy weather is the way it brings people out of their houses, gets families walking to the shops together, encourages teenagers out of bed, boosts the sense of community that modern life frequently lacks.

As per the norm when snow strikes, our car wasn’t going anywhere so Harri had to resign himself to a few days off work without pay (a new council policy).

All was not lost, however, as I persuaded him to venture outdoors for our first ‘non-professional’ walk of 2013. We’d barely left the house when we were talking to some young men pulling a sledge.

Bassaleg Road where, for once, people outnumber cars

Bassaleg Road wasn’t looking itself at all. Where was the constant stream of traffic, the convoy of articulated lorries taking a short-cut to and from the M4, the buses? 

We pushed ahead, amazed by the number of people everywhere. Laurel Drive – usually a pedestrian-free zone – had transformed itself into a busy thoroughfare as families trekked to the local store for those extra supplies of bread and milk. Fathers pulled sleighs loaded with their offspring, elderly people shuffled along, supported by relatives.  

It was the same in the side streets. Kids jostling for their turn on the toboggan, parents were shovelling snow off drives, snowmen being built, noisy snowball fights going on...

Everywhere I looked, people were walking and talking to one another.

Has Laurel Drive ever been this busy?

For a moment, I thought I’d been transported back to the 1970s, to a time when the entangled lives and concern for their neighbours portrayed by Coronation Street characters accurately reflected real life for those of us living in terraced housing.

All this good-natured camaraderie, this overt show of public spirit, it couldn’t last, could it? Sadly, not.

Within days, we’d all had enough. Heavy traffic once again dominated main roads, the lorry convoys were back and the human population retreated en masse to the security and privacy of our castles.

Roll on the next bout of snow… 

Junction 28's lovely old sign looks better still in the snow

When is a national trail not a National Trail?

The Pembrokeshire Coast Path - one of Wales's three National Trails

The Ramblers is urging everyone who enjoys hiking to sign a petition to save England’s thirteen National Trails.

The walkers’ organisation is afraid Government plans to radically alter the way National Trails are managed will lead to historic trails like the Pennine Way and Hadrian’s Wall Path becoming ‘little more than overgrown mud-tracks’.

One of Wales's very own 'mud tracks'

National Trails in England and Wales are currently maintained by two national bodies: Natural England and the Countryside Council for Wales.

The Government wants to hand over management of National Trails in England to what they call Local Trail Partnerships. In other words, they want individual local councils to form ‘partnerships’ with other interested bodies which will then assume responsibility for the management and maintenance of National Trails.

The Ramblers is quite rightly concerned that already overstretched councils will struggle to maintain hundreds of miles of footpaths and trails.

At the moment, the proposals only affect England and there are no similar plans in Wales; however, you don’t need a crystal ball to speculate about what’s likely to happen to our National Trails if the Government gets its way because this haphazard ‘local’ management style is already being applied to the Wales Coast Path.

Confusingly, the much-lauded 870-mile continual trail around Wales is not currently a National Trail despite its high-profile launch and national branding. Take a look at the website and you’ll see listed 22 ‘path partners’ (all of whom are involved in some aspect of the path’s establishment, maintenance and promotion). No less than 16 of these partners are local authorities, each of which has its own (constantly changing) political agenda and increasing budgetary demands. No marks then for guessing that in the current economic climate many councillors will not view the maintenance of footpaths as a high priority (or vote winner).

A muddy stretch of the Wales Coast Path
above Laugharne

Partnership is one of the buzz words in the public sector. A former senior manager of mine once used the immortal words ‘if you’re doing it alone, you’re doing it wrong’. He has been (anonymously) quoted in many a high-level strategy ever since.

The trouble with partnerships is they need managing… and administering… and promoting. Meetings have to be organised, minutes and agendas distributed far and wide. Local government (in Wales at least) already ‘facilitates’ (another word much favoured by council officers) various partnerships, e.g. the Community Safety Partnership, the Health, Social Care and Well-being Partnership, and the Children and Young People’s Partnership.  There are probably others but I’ve been out of local government for over a year now so I no longer need to keep track.

I just don’t think local government needs any more partnerships! Moreover, different local authority areas have diverse priorities and some do not prioritise footpaths.

How many cows trekked the
Wales Coast Path  before us?

A few years ago, Harri and I walked the Pembrokeshire Coast Path – one of Wales’s three National Trails – over several weekends, starting at St Dogmael’s in July and finishing at Amroth the following January. 

As we crossed the Pembrokeshire–Carmarthenshire border, the previously well-maintained and well-surfaced coast path immediately degenerated into a mud-bath.

The sad truth is that despite all the publicity, the boasts of ‘year-round activities’ and ‘family fun’, Wales’s newest tourist attraction is almost unwalkable in places. The churned-up ground along some sections, e.g. the stretch above Marros Sands, suggests the passage of a herd of tap-dancing cows; hundreds of metres are passable only in the sturdiest of hiking boots.

Carmarthenshire’s disregard for its footpaths, even the scenic cliff-top trails comprising the Wales Coast Path, strengthens the argument for continued management of National Trails by a national body.

And, being realistic, local councils can’t be responsible for everything. Most already struggle to maintain the smaller, lesser-used footpaths and will often choose to close a footpath completely (or divert it along a busy road!) rather than invest in its maintenance.

Boardwalks - a 'site' for sore eyes
 (and wet feet)

Newport Council promotes 10 Countryside Walks and, as we’ve walked them all, I speak from experience when I say that most of them have sections which are impassable due to ‘invisible’ footpaths, brambles, inaccessible stiles, etc. I’d like to think someone actually walked them before producing the leaflets but I’m not so sure. Last summer, Harri contacted Newport council about an overgrown footpath and was told that it was impassable because no-one used it. Er, we were trying to use it!

It’s the same story with the Monmouthshire and Brecon Canal. The towpath from Malpas Road to Fourteen Locks is in an abysmal state; at the steepest point, it’s so muddy and slippery I’m surprised no-one has fallen into one of the locks. Carry on past the Visitor Centre towards Risca and into a new local authority area (Caerphilly) and suddenly the surface is flat and even and a delight to walk/run/cycle along.

I’m really proud that this little nation of three million people is the first in the world to have a continual path around its coastline. It’s pretty impressive, eh?

If Cameron’s Government pushes ahead with its proposals for National Trails, it’s possible that these magnificent historic walkways will gradually deteriorate to the standard of the path above Marros Sands or the ‘invisible’ paths promoted by Newport Council.

If you believe that National Trails are worth saving, please sign the Ramblers’ petition today and urge this Government to rethink its crazy proposals.

And just in case you were wondering, the other two National Trails in Wales are Offa’s Dyke Path (shared with England) and Glyndŵr’s Way.

National Trails deserve national and
not fragmented management

Capital Times

Cardiff and beyond on a rainy December day

What a miserable, waterlogged December we’ve had in the UK – and the rain shows no sign of abating. 

These are not good times for a hiking blog writer; the only walking that Harri and I have done for weeks is completing two short walks around Cardiff for www.walkingworld.com

The ground everywhere is so soggy and boggy that it’s impossible to leave the pavements and tarmac trails unless you have a decent pair of Wellingtons. And after my spectacular puddle dive back in November when I injured my right foot and couldn't run for nearly three weeks, I'm now steering clear of anything that resembles ground water.

A disintegrating Christmas present completes
Newport parkrun

Even the Christmas parkrun was a wash-out; the 150+ hardy runners who braved the torrential rain and thick mud in Newport ended up soaked to the skin and plastered in mud for their efforts (I speak from experience here as I was one of them – starting the race as Mother Christmas, finishing as Alice Cooper). 

Imaginative fancy dress outfits disintegrated in the 20-40 minutes it took parkrunners to splash around the filthy, saturated route at Tredegar House. The lakeside path had been deteriorating for weeks but the conditions on December 22 were the worst I’d ever experienced.

I feel somehow to blame for all this rain. At the end of October, I sent a tongue-in-cheek email to the parkrun newsletter saying:

“As I approach my 50^th parkrun at Newport, it’s occurred to me that I’ve never run it in the rain. I’ve only missed two parkruns since I started and I usually complete in under 30 minutes which must mean it never rains in Newport between 9am and 9.30am on Saturday mornings. Perhaps you would consider holding parkrun on a daily basis in the interests of some nice, dry winter mornings?"

Before alarm bells start sounding in the ears of parkrun volunteers, I should add that my suggestion was not greeted with a resounding 'let's do it' (or even printed in the weekly newsletter). I did, however, receive this spirited response from Michael at parkrun HQ.

"Hi Tracy
Thank you for taking the time to write to us. It means a lot!Here at parkrun we like to keep things as simple as possible, which just means providing free 5km runs on a Saturday morning to anyone who wants them. Also, as our events are run by volunteers, I don't think it would be practical to ask them to run an event everyday.Interestingly, there could be a scientific explanation for why it hardly ever rains on a Saturday morning (eg http://www.nature.com/news/2008/080811/full/news.2008.1017.html)
I hope you find this answer interesting."

I digress, but only to emphasize how the seemingly interminable wet weather has forced us to hunt for new territories for our hiking pursuits. For us, Cardiff has become the new Brecon Beacons, the only corner of this lush green country where you don’t need to don thigh-waders to go for a stroll.

Looking across Cardiff Bay towards the Custom House

Wales’ capital city might not boast the spectacular scenery of the Black Mountains or the stunning beaches of Gower, but it does have a lot going for it:

1. It’s flat - flatter than almost any other place in Wales; the mean-spirited might even call it 'vertically challenged'. However, flat means more miles covered per hour, you can see where you’re going and you have enough breath to walk and talk. Flat wins Cardiff lots of brownie points, in my opinion.

Bute Park's paths can get pretty busy

2. Its trails and footpaths are well-used – while generally advantageous, this can occasionally be frustrating. We were forced to wait for several minutes on a corner of Bute Park one Sunday while hundreds of Santa Clauses ran, walked and limped past (hint to the slowbies: an event advertised as a 5k run means you have to move your legs quickly!). On a brighter note, footpaths that are used by other walkers, roller-bladers, cyclists,  students , basically the world and his dog, mean that you can locate them without needing a 1:25,000 OS map and that you can leave your bramble-cutting scythe at home.

3. The proximity of its long-distance trails, e.g. the Taff and Ely Trails, to the shops. Where else in Wales can you finish an eight-mile hike and pop into Tammy Girl to buy your niece’s Christmas present?

The Norwegian Church has an idyllic  location

4. There are nice places to eat en route, sites of interest, activities, pubs.  There are craft shows in the Norwegian Church, whimsical Christmas stalls along the Hayes selling crepes, mulled wine and unusual gifts and you can even stop at the Dr Who Experience if time travel's your thing. 

5. Park and ride  – for people who think life's too short to queue to get into the John Lewis car park (or, like us, are too poor to pay the massive charges).  Cardiff's park and ride offering is amazingly good value (£3 after 8.30 am, just £1 before) and even more convenient for those of us coming from the Newport direction.

6. Cardiff Bay - what an amazing feat of engineering the barrage is. And the views across the Bristol Channel are fantastically disorienting (try to work out which direction the open sea lies - your brain tells you one thing, your eyes another).  I don’t think I’ve ever been so proud of being Welsh as when I ran the Cardiff Half Marathon in October. Running across the barrage in glorious autumn sunshine was definitely the highlight of an amazing day.

7. Last, but not least, Cardiff is a vibrant and spectacular city. True, it's taken me 50 years to appreciate what I've got on my doorstep, but that's the trouble with familiarity. Cardiff's always been there on the signposts, just a short train away, a place we went to ice-skate, see a pantomime, Tom Jones in concert or to spend our birthday money. Finally, I can recognise its real attractions.

 

Cardiff Bay has been transformed
in recent years

So, while the British weather continues to do  its worst (and Harri ensures me that it's forecast to carry on raining - now there's a title for a good old British comedy film), you'll likely be finding us wandering around Wales' capital city.

Happy hiking in 2013 everyone!

They've made a runner out of me

Morwenna and Imogen (and Colin Tebby) arriving for parkrun 

'Congratulations! Our records show that you have completed 50 parkruns. You are now eligible to receive a free parkrun 50 club tee shirt, sponsored by adidas, in recognition of your achievement.’

What parkrunner wouldn't be excited when the above email lands in their mailbox?

50 parkruns! 

That’s 250 kilometres of Saturday morning running with a wonderful crowd of people, many of whom I now class as good friends.

It’s 155 miles circumnavigating the (often muddy) grounds of Tredegar House, mentally ticking off those 1km markers.

It’s 50 separate texts, each one sent to my mobile just after 11am to let me know how my legs have performed that day.

And it's 50 emails noting my overall and  gender positions for that day's run, plus lots of other scintillating statistical information about my own performance and that of my fellow runners (and believe me checking the stats becomes very addictive!).

parkrun is what Saturdays were made for – and what makes it even more of a must-do event is that every week I’m joined by my equally enthusiastic family and friends.

And they're off...

parkrun is now such a massive part of my life that it's impossible to believe that just over a year ago, I’d never even heard of it.

From its humble beginnings at Bushy Park, Teddington, in 2004 (there were just 13 runners for the first run), parkrun is now an international sporting event, providing free, timed weekly 5k runs across the globe.

Founder Paul Sinton-Hewitt wanted to keep parkrun simple. Once a runner is registered, they just turn up unannounced at any event and compete against themselves.

The letters PB resonate with every parkrunner, for they are a constant reminder of the day they exceeded their own expectations and ran the fastest 5k race of their life – their ‘personal best’.

Everyone remembers the turning points in their lives, those moments when everything changes and life will simply never be the same again.

My ‘parkrun moment’ came in late September 2011 when our family was gathered in Caerleon for a meal to celebrate Morwenna’s graduation. My (former) sister-in-law, Catherine, was sitting next to me and, aware I’d taken up running a few years earlier, she asked me if I fancied going along to Tredegar House the following weekend to run a 5k around the lake. It was an organised event, she told me, but a free one. All I had to do was register online in advance and then I’d get timed for my efforts. I’d run the Swansea 10k a year before so the distance wasn't of particular concern. In effect, I was simply going along to hold her hand.

Imogen's efforts are rewarded

A week later, I met Catherine in the car park and the rest, as they say, is history. I was pretty much addicted from day one – though at that point, I had no idea that I’d soon be on first name terms (and Facebook friends) with many of the other runners.

Within weeks Morwenna had joined me, then her father, David, and his other sister, Allyson. The children didn’t want to miss out on the fun so it wasn't long before Amber, 7, Imogen, 6, Megan, 11, Connor, 10, and Abi, 5, were all dashing up the avenue and around the lake. Harri's occasional runs resulted in some impressive results, while his father, Garrod, put his running shoes on for the first time in over 20 years. Morwenna’s school friend Rachel turned up with her fiance (now husband) Wayne and Rachel’s mum, Sue, was soon a regular. 

Julia congratulates Amber on her first parkrun

parkrun was no longer an occasional Saturday morning event but was fast becoming a religion. 

In the Brew House, our after-run family gathering had long outgrown one table and we were regularly ordering tea for eight.

Chatting to fellow volunteers, I learned that one couple – Gareth and Sian – lived a few doors away from me, and I renewed contact with several old school friends and former work colleagues.

As the running bug took hold, Morwenna and I decided to join a club.

Newport parkrun is organised by volunteers from Lliswerry Runners and Caerleon Running Club and we were ‘courted’ by both clubs. After much deliberation, we chose Lliswerry on the basis that the runs were more likely to be flat (Caerleon is far too hilly for my liking).

With encouragement from club members, I achieved the unimaginable in 2012 and completed two half marathons – Llanelli in March and Cardiff in October (with Morwenna).

Nothing can beat the sense of achievement and the exhilaration of running long distances - the changing landscape, the breeze on your face, the adrenalin rush. When it's going well,  I feel like Maria Von Trapp running down those Austrian hillsides.

Tail-running the day before the Cardiff half marathon

When I started running four years ago, I could barely run to the end of Springvale estate without collapsing in a heap.

If anyone had told me then that one day I’d be the proud owner of an exclusive tee-shirt emblazoned with the number 50 to signify that I’d run 50 x 5km races, I’d probably have told them they were bonkers.

But I have. I’ve done it. With a little help from my (running) friends, some weird-looking gel toe tubes from Wilkinsons and lots of orange squash, I’ve become a member of parkrun’s 50 club. I have a big red 50 next to my name on the much-lauded weekly race results page. I have booked a place on my first international half marathon.

At the age of 51, I am proud to call myself a runner.