We are all superhuman

In this extract from Barefoot Britain, the ever-wonderful Anna McNuff explains how, during her incredible barefoot adventure back in 2019, she discovered that each of us, no matter what we’re taking on, has the power to go further than we ever thought possible

Illustrations: stock.adobe.com

|| It was soon after leaving the village of Cowgill that the run gods served up a new challenge. The route got more undulating and the hills came thick and fast. And yet […] I felt strong ||

When I met a small group of runners outside St Andrew’s Church, the skies were blue and filled with candyfloss clouds. Many of the group were friends of my host, Jennie (she’d managed to strongarm over a burger bap the night before into joining me for a run). But also in the group were Dave and Laura, a couple who had run with me out of Kendal and now returned for round two. Clearly, the sight of my weather-beaten feet was enough to lure them back — that or it could have been the glorious scenery and the prospect of running on quiet roads through the Cumbrian countryside. Much as I’d loved having a big group join me out of Kendal, what I loved more than anything on the journey through Britain was the variety. A change in pace, a change in group numbers, a shift in energy. The mixture of running in a big group, a small group, with just one other or running alone — I liked it all in balance.

The smaller group of runners meant that I could take my time to chat to each and every person, and I was especially keen to speak to Kendalettes Laura and Dave. Dave had a white cap on, turned backwards, which matched the laid-back vibe he was giving off, and Laura had bright blonde hair cut in a neat bob and was wearing black Capris and a purple T-shirt. Dave told me that he’d done long distances before, but for Laura distancerunning was a new thing. She’d only ever run 5 miles until she joined me for a 7-mile run out of Kendal. And now, she was back for a second day on the trot.

‘I’m not sure how far I’ll go today. Probably just a few miles,’ she said as we set off from town, and I was cool with that — any miles were winner’s miles in my eyes.

After the first hour of excited chatter, we settled into Adventure Pace as a group, following quiet roads through the hamlets of Millthrop and Gawthrop — both of which I thought had ideal names for the setting of a murder mystery. A blackish-grey river of mottled tarmac flowed out from beneath my feet and passed between dry stone walls which looked like they’d been there for hundreds of years and were partly obscured by bushes and bramble. Closer to the frayed edges of the road, bursts of wildflowers were dotted here and there — little purple renegades in a landscape of green and grey.