Running into Autumn

It has felt like a long summer, the hottest on record according to the MET office. We haven't had the extreme peaks of 2022, but four decent heatwaves have pushed the averages up.

I live in the Peak District and the trails have been dry and dusty. It has meant that I have been enjoying the freedom of getting out in my shorts and vest. It has been so good I don't even remember where I put my aggressive deep lugged trail running shoes.

But there is change in the air, the trails are still dry but yellow / orange leaves are falling onto the forest floor and the cooler mornings and evenings are accompanied by the fresh smell of autumn.

Even in the darkest moments, light exists if you have the faith to see it - Obi-Wan Kenobi

As summer's long evenings begin to shorten and morning mists appear over the Derwent, I am looking forward to a new kind of adventure awakening on the trails. Little by little the kit in my running box rotates back into its winter guise. Where I have been running with the warmth of the setting sun on my back, now I am getting ready to layer up with long sleeves and trail tights - and wondering where I stashed my hat and gloves back in spring.

The most obvious change is the dark. There's something transformative about clicking on your headtorch as the first hints of autumn creep across the Peak District. When you run by headtorch light, you see the world differently, literally and metaphysically. The familiar path up to the Nine Ladies that I have run dozens of times in blazing sunshine becomes an entirely new landscape. I am looking forward to my cone of light carving through the darkness, revealing the trail in intimate fragments: the crunch of damp gravel underfoot, the way morning dew catches your beam like scattered diamonds, the sudden appearance of a sheep emerging from the gloom.

Your world shrinks during the times of dawn and dusk. It just closes in on you ever so slightly. You feel the rhythm of your breath, the steady beat of your feet on moorland paths. The reassuring pool of light moves with you through the darkness. Every sense sharpens. You hear the distant call of a curlew across the moors, the growl of the Gruffalo, the crisp bite of autumn air filling your lungs, the earthy scent of bracken turning golden brown.

There's a meditative quality to these headtorch adventures that daylight runs cannot offer. The darkness creates a cocoon of focus, where the outside world falls away and it's just you, the trail, and the steady swing of light guiding you forward. Whether catching dawn breaking over Kinder Scout or watching the last light fade behind Win Hill, as you become part of the landscape's quiet transformation, these moments remind you why you fell in love with running in the first place.

These twilight journeys have their own special magic. The trails start to take on a new character—muddy patches appear where summer's hard-baked earth once lay, and the heather blooms give way to russet and gold. I can already feel that cool air against my cheeks.

In the gentle bounce of your headtorch beam, in the satisfying squelch of autumn trails, in the way your breath forms clouds in the cooling air, you discover that sometimes the most profound adventures happen not in broad daylight, but in the beautiful uncertainty of darkness.

So as the nights draw in and the morning mists thicken, don't retreat indoors. Charge up that headtorch, lace up your trail shoes, and join the beacons of light enjoying time in the margins of the day.