“Do you know the way to Detective Jimmy Perez’s house?” asked the two Norwegian tourists.

Not only did I know the way, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Detective Jimmy Perez is the lead character of the novels and TV show, ‘Shetland’. And he lived in the Lodberie House, an old Victorian home on the edge of Lerwick’s harbour.

“It’s 20 metres further along,” I said, “look to your right and you can’t miss it.”

I’m not sure why I was asked though. Did they think I was local and would know? Or did they think I looked like a fan of the show? 

“That man looks like he enjoys a good murder, let’s ask him!”

Instead, and lucky for them, five minutes earlier I had stood outside the house, and I had googled “what is the Lodberie House?” and had found out all about it. Now, five minutes later, I was Google.

Part of running, for me, is exploring. When on holiday, I love to run the streets around me to get my bearings, ticking each street off like Pacman in his maze, though without the pills. Or the ghosts. 

I was always so keen. For years I would take my trainers with me on holiday. I would have this idea that I would go for a run when I’m away. That it’ll be a chance to explore a new city or town and get a fresh perspective of where I am. Yet, every time I come home, I find my trainers have reminded firmly in a well wrapped bag.

(The bag has to be well wrapped as trainers, well, there’s no,other way to say this, STINK. And the very last thing you want to do is place your trainers tightly in with all your fresh holiday clothes in a closed bag because soon everything will smell of your feet. Eeugh.)

A few years ago, just before lockdown, I decided that there was no point planning a holiday run. I was going to be away for two weeks, I had to bring hiking boots and taking a pair of trainers too and it felt like I’d be using too much space for footwear I would only use for a few hours, if that.

And, if I didn’t take my trainers, I wouldn’t feel guilty about not going for a run. You can’t feel guilty if you can’t do something. Just like I don’t feel guilty about not going to the moon, painting a stunning landscape or eating beatroot (it’s purple – only bruises and dinosaurs are purple).

But, when I started to pack I realised I would have space for trainers if I wore my hiking boots onto the plane. If I didn’t pack them, but wore them instead, I’d free up both space and weight. And then I thought, why not take my trainers but instead of thinking I should go for a run I would only aim to cover a mile instead: The Holiday Mile. A simple goal, less than 10 minutes and it would meet my goal of seeing more than just a hotel in wherever we stayed but would also be short enough that it didn’t feel like an imposition during the holiday. It would be over and done before breakfast.

And, as it turned out, if I went out for that first mile, I would also carry on if I was enjoying it.

Perfect.

Until I got there. ‘There’ being Dubai and I tried my holiday mile at the end of September when the temperature was 42 degrees and it was horrible. It wasn’t running, it was cooking. And I was the main course.

But I did it. And I kept doing it and gradually my runs became longer until I now enjoy running while on holiday.