You wonder how accidents like that happen, sitting there warm and dry, reading the paper or browsing the web as a headline briefly catches your attention - 'Man dies in fall through lake ice accident'. It's tragic and so avoidable, or so you'd think. I was keen for a run out into Lyme Park. Very keen. I'd enrolled James and sold the concept to Pete in that it'd fit his 'schedule'. We'd get Jason to come too. The promise of crisp sunshine was the icing the cake, the plan was made.
Except Jason couldn't come, or so Pete thought. He was having trouble deciphering his response, the communication between those two more complex than any husband and wife. To keep momentum going, I announced I'd drive and to seal the deal, Pete should bring George. A dog in my car...unheard of. I just really wanted to go up there...I had a feeling it was going to be fun, so was worth the effort of making it happen. From the moment I open the blinds, I knew I was right. Snow. I picked everyone up, performed a rubbish handbrake turn outside James's, failing to impress little Joe. Pete wedged George in the back and off we went. A grey morning, no sunshine yet. In fact, it started snowing some more as we arrived.
Being warm and running as the snow is falling is such a rare thing to enjoy, even if it was accompanied by a story from James about how wearing running tights causes chaffing around his hairy arse. He felt it important we shared his suffering! The higher we got, the less visibility we had. Down to 50m almost. Dramatic nonetheless. Occasionally as I stopped to take a few photo's, I'd look up and just see the others vanishing into the snowy gloom.
Not sure of which way to go, I recognised a route I'd done with the club and suggested a way along the tops. But then, as we approached the top, the sun slowly broke through. In moments, the sky turned from grey, through yellow and orange to brilliant blue. Running along, we all took in the spectacular views. This is why we'd come out. This is why running is such a great hobby, you make the effort, you get the reward. You set off with nothing, you return enriched, alive and full of tales to tell. We bombed it down the hill. I could hear James behind giggling like a kid, you know, when you have that feeling that if you go any faster, your legs are going to cave in under you.
We stop at the bottom, Pete catches up after a more calculated descent as George is tethered to him on the lead, panting and wagging her tail. Everyone happy. The sun lights a stone wall. It's stunning how the light makes this massive inert structure come alive. It's possible that by now, we have exceeded Pete's 'easy' run requirement, but I know the way back, it's flat and finishes on a picturesque section along the canal to the cafe where the car is parked. Wonderful. What could possibly go wrong? Running steady now, we hit the canal path. Pete lets George off the lead. She's been on the lead for most of the run. There are many sheep up on the hills, but it's one of those long leads that clips around his waist so his hands and arms are free.
I'm sure he gets a pull up the hills! But he can also be pulled over. He shouts at her not to pull. She seems to understand this and is very good. Running along the canal, Pete turns to shout at George a few times. She's rummaging in the hedge. The sun lights the canal, all iced over, ducks sitting peacefully on top. You can see the ice has been broken before but it's frozen over again in the night. All the barges are frosted over. It's all crisp, golden and very picturesque. And cold.
What happens next is a blur and a bit of a drama. A shout. Pete shouting to George like I've never heard a man scream before. Turning around to look back into the sun, 20m back there is George, or half of George in the canal not moving. We get to the edge. She is just out of reach. Pete throwing the lead to her, but she's not biting. She's got her two front paws on the ice, back to us, the rest of her is under, but she's kind of frozen, perhaps daring not to move. She won't turn.
I grab Pete's legs as he tries to reach, but she's just a bit too far out. She's just not moving, looking at us, but not budging. What is it they say on TV...we've got a situation here! And to confirm that, Pete says 'I'm going in'. The reason he's going in is because she's not coming out and we're not going home without her. And so there we are, James has hold of me, I have hold of Pete's lead which is still around his waist, and Pete steps in and reaches out to George. No one is letting go. Over and done in seconds. No real drama in retrospect, but...! There was much rubbing and shaking and getting a bit of warmth back into George, who seemed happy to be out. Pete, dripping wet, we set about the final 5 mins of our run, straight to the car for towels and spare clothes.
Then a cuppa at the cafe where we re-lived the story. Each of us came home and retold this story, incurring the inevitable wrath and being branded as idiots, to a greater or lesser extent. I don't know. When you read headlines like I describe at the top, be honest, there's a bit of you that thinks that. But it's a different rationale when it's you, or you're there! Anyway, no harm done and all a little wiser. And another story to tell, as I did while idly decorating the tree! "You did what..???"
