You can just see the trees from the kitchen window. Their arterial forms stretch to the skies, as if they are trying desperately to pluck spring from the crisp, winter's air.
It's been two weeks, two weeks of staring past the rooftops, at those trees, thinking about the hills they stand on, daydreaming about the trails that meander around their roots.
I knew I wouldn't be able to run much whilst moving house. I had bulk trained beforehand, fitting as much as I could into the early part of the week hoping that a few days off wouldn't hurt the marathon plan. Optimism is always my downfall though and as usual I had a little voice telling me I could probably sneak in a short run on most days.
Sometimes though optimism is a lying bastard and of course I ended up either too busy or too knackered to run more than once. After filling boxes with seemingly endless amounts of stuff (how did we collect so much crap?) my last run from the old place was a familiar loop around the industrial estates. A kind of farewell run, if you will. As I passed endless car dealerships and tile warehouses, the run made me look forward to moving even more.
I knew what surrounded the new house, endless Google mapping had shown that just a short half mile away there were hills, fields, woods and countryside. Not a car dealership in sight. Any quiet moment in work I would be planning routes, wondering just what they would be like in reality.
Of course, I had already run from the new place, one of the most important things to consider when moving is what the local routes are like. One evening I had parked the car nearby and after a couple of passes either side of the house, looking in but hoping not to get looked at, I went to see what I could find.
Over the motorway the world seemed to open up, fields stretched towards the woods, paths led temptingly into the distance, it was all I needed to see. I choose a path alongside the road, to have run anything else, to have barrelled headlong into the woodland seemed wrong. After all we didn't own the place yet, to use the best trails without belonging felt like trespassing, besides if things went wrong and we didn't get the house I didn't really want to find out what I was going to miss.
So the short trail alongside the M4 seemed like the best compromise. Despite the rush of furious traffic nearby, I felt in the middle of nowhere. I ran through fields, dodged horses and jumped over tree routes on paths that tickled the edge of the woodland beyond.
It was a taster run, something to lure me back, and boy did it work.
I hadn't been sure about the house before, but as I returned to the car muddied and out of breath I was sure about it now. I wanted to explore the hills beyond. I wanted to live here.
As more boxes were unloaded, as more jobs filled the to do list I realised running may have to wait a few days.
Eventually, I did get out to explore, but winter and the darkness it brings meant that the woods remained out of reach.
Anything with street lights though was fair game, I looped around nearby roads and the local villages, I ran up streets and hills that I knew led to the woods but had to turn back as the lights ended and darkness blocked my path.
It's always good exploring new places but it just didn't feel like enough, still the hills would taunt me whilst I ate breakfast.
Then, a day off, some sunshine and no excuses.
Through the path the neighbours had told me about, across a field, over the motorway and freedom.
Up again, past the dog walkers and then into the sun-dappled woodland beyond. Finally I've made it. Higher the trail climbs, pine needles coat the ground below, giving it the spongy feeling, like a running track made from nature.
Paths keep on darting left and right but I keep going up, I have to get to the top.
A bench waits to scoop people up as the path flattens out and I'm left with a choice of left or right.
Right it is, skipping over the mud before giving in completely and squelching through the middle of it. Before long I'm back out in bright sunlight again making my way across the more fields before diving back into the woodland again.
The tall pines have been replaced by what feels like more ancient woodland. Last autumn's leaves still blanket the floor, turning the hillside a bright shade of copper. They rustle beneath my feet as I barrel downhill way to quickly and completely out of control, like a child who has discovered the joy of running flat out before their legs have figured out how to do it properly.
Paths branch off the main trail, enticing me to run down them, to get truly lost in this natural maze. One leads me through a river, wet footprints marking my route as I climb the path the other side. It's a dead end, a bridle path that leads to the road back home. I'm not ready for tarmac and civilisation quiet yet though and cross the river into the woods once more.
Back up the hillside again, through the contours of ancient earth mounds. In the distance a dog is jumping at a rope swing, barking at the stick that is seemingly defying gravity by hovering in mid air.
Eventually I find a familiar looking path, one that leads downhill, taking me back home. Ignoring the distraction of the unexplored I follow it back to the edge of the woods and out once again into the vivid winters sunlight.
The other side of the motorway lies reality, yet more appliances are being delivered for the kitchen and as that is my main reason for this day off I guess I had better be in when they arrive.
Until the next time, I will once again stare at the distant trees whilst eating my breakfast, daydreaming about what else lies undiscovered.
