My normal running route takes me through the backstreets of the former factory town where I live, up winding tracks through farms and small clusters of sandstone houses to grizzly, grey-green moorland. It is a steep route, but the view from the top of the hill is breathtaking. On a clear day, it is possible to see forests, farmland, moors and lakes more than 30 miles into the Yorkshire Dales. I do the same run nearly every day, and it somehow looks different each time. I never grow tired of it.
I run because I enjoy the exhilaration of the fresh air and the outdoors. This time of year it is the damp smell of the leaves, the misty woodland and mushrooms. I like the rush of being on the moor, gazing as far as I can into the distance with the wind whipping my hair. I like coming home with muddy legs and nettle stings and cold, pink skin that prickles when I get in a hot shower.
