At first, RED January (Run Every Day), sounded like a ridiculous challenge; who can run every day for a month? (How far do I have to go to count?) Who actually wants to? But I really wanted something to kickstart my year, and needed something to give myself a bit of a boost through a difficult time of year.
Really it’s Do Something Every Day January, which doesn’t sound nearly as big or as scary. The flexibility of the challenge let me set my own targets, such as being physically active outdoors for at least 15 minutes every day, and explore activities other than running to contribute to my goal.
Running into the North Sea on January 1st with my cousin Nicola
It was just a quick dip, but my feet did leave contact with the sand, and a few swimming strokes occurred.
I was really starting to enjoy it. Even the night runs in the rain. Checking off the days in my calendar gave me a real kick*, and I began looking forward to parkrun on Saturday mornings (there’s a little smug feeling you get from running first thing in the morning and knowing you don’t need to do anything else for the rest of the day).
*And it also helps make you feel like you’ve accomplished something with your day, even if all it was was a walk around the park.
Winter weather was the biggest factor in the challenge, followed by dark evenings, making it difficult to summon the motivation to go outdoors at times. However, I would feel a buzz afterwards, from that rush of endorphins, followed by a sense of calm and relaxation, and that’s what I tried to focus on.
I found some of the runs mentally tough, had heavy legs that made things hard going, and felt a few aches and pains over the month. But tiredness from running and fresh air has helped me to sleep much better, which also helped with my mood.
The RED January community
One of the best aspects of the challenge is the community feeling created through social media. REDers connect through the #REDJanuary hashtag and provide each other with encouragement to get active, or just the safe space to unload and work through thoughts and emotions weighing on them.
On the sleety, soggy winter evenings when the sofa was far too tempting, posts on Twitter and Instagram would give me the motivation to move. Seeing pictures of others, soaked, mud-covered, sweaty, or reading their stories of feeling much too down, or anxious to go out, but still going anyway, helped me to go too.
My 2019 RED January Stats
Distance run: 58km
Distance hiked: 39km
Practical conservation days: two
Open water swims: just one!
Parkrun PBs: two
Average time outdoors every day: 2 hours 20 minutes
Thank you for your support
While all charity challenges are about raising funds vital to continuing their work, for Mind, working on mental health, it’s just as important to raise awareness. Getting people talking, opening up the conversation about mental health, and removing the stigma that pushes people into hiding conditions.
My fundraising target was just small, but January is a tough month for many, so I’m so grateful for everyone who donated to the cause. And so happy to say that I met the target!
Though I’m not a fan of making New Year’s resolutions, especially not of the New Year New You variety*, or keeping a bucket list of travels, adventures and destinations, I do find it useful to make a short list of things I hope to do over the next year. It’s a simple exercise, and I scribble down notes in my journal to look back at through the year and help me focus on what’s important.
*breaking them is usually much more enjoyable, and far more achievable.
My goals for 2019
Live more sustainably. And travel sustainably as possible too. Without getting overly morose, the clock is ticking and time to act is short. A report from the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) last autumn warned that we have only twelve years to ensure global warming is kept to a maximum of 1.5C, beyond which even a further half a degree will significantly affect the impacts of drought, extreme heat, flooding, and storms, on people and our planet.
Habitats and ecosystems are diminishing, oceans are overwhelmed with plastics, and species are disappearing. And the vast gulf of inequality that exists between the poor and the wealthy means many millions of people on this planet will suffer terribly before I am more than inconvenienced.
Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, Nothing is going to get better. It’s not.
Dr. Seuss, The Lorax
Do a long-distance hike. I think you learn so much more when you travel through a landscape at walking pace. I’m going to be taking part in the TGO Challenge in May, a backpacking challenge to cross Scotland on foot from the west coast to the east coast, wild camping as I go. I’m planning on taking 12 days to complete the hike, so I’ll be looking to build up to that with shorter hikes over the next few months.
Watch the stars. It means spending more time outdoors, away from the distraction of TV and the internet, and venturing out into wilder, more remote areas, where views of the night skies are unbroken by light pollution.
Dive. I’m a qualified scuba diver, actually a BSAC Dive Leader (roughly equivalent of a PADI Dive Master), with over a hundred logged dives. But it’s been years since I’ve been in the water, after suffering a dental barotrauma** on a training dive in Stoney Cove. I’m well out of practice and all my kit is out of test, but I love being underwater and want to get back to it so much.
**Pressure changes and a badly-done filling by my dentist resulted in a cracked tooth. Which then led to root canal treatment, almost eighteen months of faffing about, and a huge amount of anxiety about being in the water. Then I split up with my main dive buddy, and everything was shelved for another few years.
Do something new every month. Taking pressure off the beginning of the year, this will give me the chance to focus on something different every month; a brand new experience or challenge, learning new skills, or putting things I already know to the test.
So here’s to the New Year, full of things that have never been, and all the things that are yet to come.
What plans do you have for 2019? Do you make a list for reference too?
Every year, one in four of us will experience a mental health problem, but still it’s often considered taboo when it comes to talking about it, and those that do often feel side-lined and stigmatised.
What is RED January?
RED January is a community initiative encouraging people to support their mental health by undertaking something physically active every day in January. This can mean running every day, swimming, cycling, walking to work or any other activity you like to get your heart pumping and endorphins flowing.
After last year’s RED January, 87% of participants said they felt significant improvement in both their mental and physical health afterwards. It is free to take part, and you can sign up here.
Why is this important to me?
I’ve lived with depression and anxiety since I was a teenager. I’ve experienced the inexplicable, irrational thoughts and crippling self-doubt that these bring. I’ve felt the need to retreat, hide, build walls around myself when things hit hard. When just getting out of bed for the day seems as big a challenge as scaling the Eiger.
I know, from my job as a ranger out walking on the coast of the Solent, that getting outdoors and doing something active can make a significant improvement in how I feel, especially at this time of year.
What am I going to do about it?
Every day throughout January I’m challenging myself to take part in physical activity outdoors. I’m aiming to spend at least 15 minutes outdoors every day, running, hiking*, taking part in parkruns, and even outdoor swimming. There may be some days where that all seems a bit too much, but then I plan on taking my yoga mat outside.
*Training for the TGO challenge in May, the biggest challenge I’ve got planned for 2019… so far
Getting outdoors for me is just as important as getting physically active. A winter boost of vitamin D from natural light, and a blast of fresh air to blow away negative thoughts. A connection with nature, whether its just hearing the gulls cry from the rooftop, hearing the windblown waves hit the harbour wall over the road, or catching the scent of gorse flowers (which bloom all year round along the shore; when the gorse is in bloom, kissing’s in fashion).
I’ll be raising funds for Mind through the month. Every year, one in four of us will experience a mental health problem, but still it’s often considered a taboo subject when it comes to talking about it. Mind believe no-one should have to face the challenge of a mental health issue alone, and provide a range of resources and support to help.
A donation of £15 can fund someone in crisis to take part in a group talking therapy session.
My fundraising target is small, only £150, but that could help 10 people. Like me. Maybe like you too, or a close friend or family member, or work colleague.
My Just Giving page is here. Please consider making a donation, no matter how much you can spare, it all helps provide a vital service.
I’ll be sharing stories from my activities through the month on instagram, so you can keep track of how I’ve been getting on.
I’ve just returned to the UK after several weeks at sea on Blue Clipper, crossing from Norway to England, and on to Portugal, followed up by a few weeks of maintenance work based on the Algarve coast.
Norway is my favourite country and I loved visiting new places on this trip, starting with Bodø, and crossing the Arctic circle as we headed south to Ålesund. I also revisited familiar ground around Haugesund and Karmøy, when we ended up storm-bound in Skudeneshavnfor a week longer than expected.
The voyage was amazing for wildlife encounters; migrating barnacle geese, eider ducks and other birds heading southwards, enormous sea eagles on every island, sharks cruising by on the surface, basking seals, pods of porpoises, dolphins, pilot whales. Sparking bioluminescence mirroring the night’s stars. And as we crossed the Bay of Biscay, a day or so north of Camariñas, two magnificent fin whales broke the surface on our starboard side.
I’ve never really been one for sunshine holidays, so the Algarve has never really been on my travel radar until now. I was really pleased to find that away from resorts (and in the shoulder season) there’s some really beautiful and wild parts of the coast, near Alvor and Sagres, estuaries and saltmarshes filled with birdlife, and even storks roosting on every tower in town. And Portuguese food is pretty good too.
Back in the UK I’ve been fortunate to get a couple of short trips in the time I’ve been back, with a couple of days in the Peak District near Leek, and a few more in Church Stretton to hike in the Shropshire Hills, brush up on my navigation skills, and appreciate the stunning autumn colours.
What I’ve done:
Since returning to Bedfordshire, I’ve joined the weekly parkrun at my nearby country park. It’s been so long since I’ve been running, and I’m still getting over a knee injury, so I’m starting from the beginning again, but I really enjoy the sociability of the runs.
I’ve been developing an idea for a podcast, which I hope to launch next month. So when I get a moment, it’s filled up with working: reading, researching, and writing. Watch this space for more news.
I’ve also pulled out all my hiking gear, waterproof clothing, and sailing oilskins to give them all a proper deep clean, and coating with Nikwax waterproofing treatment ready for winter. I hope the effort will pay off and keep me dry and warm through the months ahead.
Do bears run in these woods?
Parkrun timing chip
My autumn love list:
Book: I’ve been remotely discovering the Scottish islands over the last couple of months, with several of the books I’ve read. But When I Heard the Bell: The Loss of the Iolaire by John MacLeod has been the one that’s lingered longest in my mind. An account of the tragic loss of the ship returning demobbed WWI soldiers and seamen home to the islands for Hogmanay, and the long shadow cast by the worst peacetime maritime loss in British waters.
Podcast: Dan Snow’s History Hit, which does exactly what is says on the tin. Each is a short but deep dive into a specific event or idea from history. With the hundredth anniversary of the armistice that ended WWI in November, my recent interest has been mainly in the episodes covering that period. Which brings me on to…
Film: They Shall Not Grow Old, a documentary film by Peter Jackson that tells the story of WWI from the British point of view, using old film archives and recorded interviews. The moment that the images on screen transition from black and white to colourised 3D footage is simply spine-tingling.
Dressed for the chill
What I’ve loved this autumn
Clothing: Since returning from the Algarve to Bedfordshire, I’ve embraced the chill to get out and make the most of my favourite season. That means warm woollen sweaters, including my favourite knit from Finnisterre, cosy socks, and a new pair of gloves from Rab. I’ve also been able to dig out my flannel pyjamas for enjoying toasty evenings in.
Equipment: With the clock change last month and nights drawing in, I’ve found myself out in the dark often, and my Petzl Tikka+ headtorch has become one of the things I use most. As a lightweight lamp, with a red light, it’s great for moving around a ship at night or going on evening runs, however I think I might look into upgrading to something more powerful for hiking in the dark, like one from LED Lenser.
I’ve also found my Thermos food flask, which is perfect for packing a warming lunch of soup, stew or pasta while I’m out and about. It’s one of my cold weather essentials.
Treats: Autumn always means mince pies. They’re usually available from around the time of my birthday in September, and I buy a selection from the different stores to work out which is my preferred mince pie for the season. I’m still in the testing stage this year, as I’ve been scoffing pastéis de nata in Portugal until recently.
I’m planning on a much quieter few months over the winter, spending time back up in northeast Scotland visiting friends and family. I’m hoping that there will be plenty of time to walk along the coast, and take a few trips into the mountains, around the projects I’ll be working on.
I’m also going to get stuck into the planning for my next big adventure, looking at maps, blog posts, and guides. In May 2019, I’m going to be taking part in the TGO Challenge, a self-supported crossing of Scotland from west to east. Participants choose their own start and finish points, and plan their route between the two. This will be my second attempt at the TGO, so I’ve some unfinished business to deal with, plus it’s the 40th Anniversary of the challenge.
Thanks for following along with These Vagabond Shoes.
You can keep up to date with my travel and adventures (and vague rambling ideas) on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. Here’s to fair seas and following winds.
I’d love to hear about what you’ve been up to this season, or any plans you have for the season ahead. Let me know in the comments below.
The name Norway derives from Nordvegen, the north route, a network of sheltered sounds, straits and fjords along the country’s coast providing a shipping route protected from the wild North and Norwegian Seas. Karmsund, the narrow channel between the mainland and the island of Karmøy, a Viking stronghold, was the final part of the route we’d follow before emerging into the open water of Boknafjorden, north of Stavanger.
We make our approaches to Haugesund shortly before 4am, following a couple of large supply vessels into the port, and picking up the sector lights of the first of the channel markers. Unlike previous night’s sailing, this was pilotage, picking out lights marking the edge of the channel and counting off the buoys, and in familiar water (I sailed here on Draken Harald Hårfagre in the summer of 2013).
Skudeneshavn lies less than 30km as the crow flies from Utsira island
The wind strength beginning to build through the day
The wind had died away in the evening, and Karmsund was millpond flat in the lee of the island. With first light we picked up the beginning of the open water swell, rolling in across from the North Sea ahead of the coming weather system, and at the 7am watch change, we handed over a slate grey sea streaked with white horses, and the news that we’d put into Skudeneshavn rather than try to run ahead of the storm for Lerwick or Peterhead.
Entry into Skudeneshaven is through a channel, only 30 metres at the narrowest just past the lighthouse at Vikeholmen. After a couple of hours punching into the swell we find our line into the harbour, and start dropping sails for arrival. I’m sent to the bowsprit to call distances and look out for traffic in the harbour (I’m rubbish at estimating distances) as rain starts to sheet down.
Skudeneshavn was bustling herring port in the 18th and 19th century, a boom town during the age of sail, where fishing and shipping brought wealth to the locals and drew in workers from the rest of the region. Now traditional herring drifters in the harbour have given way to vast oil rig supply ships and small leisure boats.
We slide into the wind shadow of an immense oil rig supply ship with a helipad several stories above the tip of our mast, and try to find a berth big enough for the ship. The harbour narrows down, lined with old buildings, and small boats are tied up on every quay. The wind pushes us to one spot, and we quickly make fast, though this involves running up one lane and down another, and hopping into a garden.
The old town, Gamle Skudeneshavn, is a winding warren of narrow cobbled lanes, quays and jetties, and traditional whitewashed timber buildings, built by the master boatbuilders that were based here, in a tight jumble around the water’s edge. The town still bustles through the summer, as a popular holiday getaway from nearby Stavanger, and the host of several heritage festivals, including Skudefestivalen, the largest traditional boat gathering in western Norway.
In late autumn, the streets and the shore are far quieter, as weather systems sweep in from the Atlantic Ocean bringing regular wind squalls and rain showers. Coastal walks become bracing, but there’s always a cosy corner in town to find hot coffee and waffles to warm up.
As the crow flies, we’re less than 15 nautical miles from the island of Utsira, imagined remote and stormbound yet so familiar from the Shipping Forecast, that regular incantation that masters the weather for mariners. Violent storm 11 is every bit as terrifying as it sounds. We’ll be staying here in harbour for some time.