Twilight loitering

The Pathfinder March
aka Mr Pandammonium’s mega walk

The day of the Pathfinder March hadn’t actually dawned when the walkers gathered at RAF Wyton near Huntingdon (see photo). It would have by the time the runners gathered.

The march is in honour of the RAF’s Pathfinder Force, which operated during World War II. The route is marked on the OS map as Pathfinder Way and covers four of the RAF bases.

The man said during the briefing that if the other extant base were added, it would add 80 miles to the route. As it is, it’s 46 miles, and the march gives you 20 hours to walk it.

After a few hours of ‘top notch’ sleep, we got up at 2 a.m., got ready and I drove Mr Pandammonium to RAF Wyton, where the march starts and ends, arriving just after 3 a.m. for registration.

During the briefing, at 4 a.m., another man (or maybe the same man) said he bet there were a good few people there who’d been encouraged to sign up over a beer in the pub. I don’t know why, but Mr Pandammonium pointed right at me in a manner most accusatory.

After the briefing, I waved Mr Pandammonium off, with him promising updates at each checkpoint, of which there are 8 (excluding the start and finish); at the time of writing, the last checkpoint he reached was number 4. I drove back to the hotel to go to sleep. Alas, it seems driving around in the middle of the night precludes sleep, so I was awake until it was time to get up for parkrun.

Parkrun

I hadn’t been to Huntingdon parkrun before. It’s in Hinchingbrooke Country Park, making their parkrun more picturesque than ours. I’d checked out the parking: pay and display. Parking is free at ours. Swings and roundabouts.

Somehow, I managed to be late (I can’t entirely blame Google’s directions, which confused me into having to turn round twice during the five-minute drive from the quaint hotel), so I missed the first-timers’ briefing, which is useful because they describe the course, and I hadn’t got round to checking it out properly online. I was just in time for the main briefing. The usual stuff, apart from to watch out for Segways.

I didn’t think not knowing the route would be a problem because the chances of me leading the pack are almost negative. Hah.

I got chatting to a lady with a dog for part of the course, and I saw her afterwards and went up to her, her dog and her fellow, and we had a lovely chat about crazy-length runs and walks and about shoes with toes.

As we all headed back to the car park, I remembered that I hadn’t thanked the lady for helping me out, which is how we got chatting in the first place, so I did it then. Her fellow was curious, so I explained: I’d got lost because I was following Jesus.

Can you believe he needed further explanation? I indulged him.

I was following a man round the course. At one point, he took a right turn, but two fast runners went straight on. I thought maybe the course split depending on which lap you’re doing like ours does, so I started to go after him because his pace was closer to mine. He wore a t-shirt with a picture of Jesus on the back.

After a few steps, doubt dribbled like sweat, so I turned round to see if there was anyone I could ask – and there was the lady with the dog. I asked her which way the course went. It was not the way of Jesus.