A recent post on my Instagram feed got me thinking (I am, shamelessly, my own best muse at times) about the importance that I seem to place on ‘belonging’.

The more I’ve thought of it, the more it seems to make a good deal of sense, a bit like when you’re lost somewhere and all of a sudden, in your desperation to make sense of where you are, you start attributing everything you see to the map, convincing yourself that the puny 67m ‘spot height’ on the battered bit of paper in your feeble, shivering hands definitely is the colossal behemoth thrusting its eagle-topped zenith through umpteen layers of atmosphere.

I’ve been a ‘commando’ and a member of a pretty select unit during my previous career (both with their own different coloured berets and weird slang); I’ve also been the member of no less than four different running clubs in the past 7 years. What a slag. In my defence I a) didn’t see the point of being in a club miles away from where I was living, and b) wanted to support the local guys and girls of the club most local to me at the time. I’ve been very, very lucky with the places I’ve lived in this respect.

How central is the importance of ‘belonging’ to you guys out there?

As I’ve said, I am drawn to being a part of something ‘bigger than myself’, whatever that may mean to anyone else. Why else would you pay money to wear a fancy coloured, or not, vest and prance about with your noodles on show? I stick my tenner in an envelope (figuratively Mr Taxman, figuratively) for the purpose of training with like-minded individuals and representing the collective at races and team events. If I can’t do that, why would I continue to update my membership each January?

So, after this long-winded introduction, I’m going to do a bit of investigating as to arguably the most flagrant symbol of this belonging, the club vest.

HBT and Borrowdale chasing something out of 20,000 leagues under the sea…

Now. I’m fairly unimaginative so the format, and most likely content, will look remarkably similar to the ‘clubs‘ blog post that I did way back when. I cannot excuse this, I am lazy. I shall not apologise for this either as it seems to have gone down fairly well. What I can promise you, is that it will not be nearly as long-winded (this Magna Carta-like intro aside) as that. I’ll just focus my aged eyes on a handful of noteworthy singlets that illustrate the point I’m dragging through the undergrowth.

Borrowdale FR – like a herd of two-legged, two-armed (though malnourished and rake-thin) bruises hurtling down fell and crag, the team strip of Borrowdale is still, in my eyes, the original and best of all that makes fell running vests awesome. It’s just purple. Simple. Un-duplux-matchable-purple. The colour only a mother could love. No writing. No ‘posh’ extra colours or tones. No stripes nor hoops. Just purple. The two day old bruise. No dicking about. Instantly recognisable anywhere they go. Soon to be a collector’s item though? It’s only Ted under the age of 90 after all.

Ambleside AC – a slight anomaly this one, as their kit isn’t necessarily that ‘stand-out’. So I thought anyway, but then I heard the story behind the legend. The reason for that distinctive (and there’s no arguing that it is distinctive) green hoop on navy blue. Take a pew, microwave your brew (I’m a poet and I….thought long and hard for frickin’ ages to come up with a cool rhyme) and mute the telly, Papa Foster’s got a tale for you. I hope I do this justice as for me, it goes to the heart of fell-running (and could help to explain the club’s stance over GPS [shhhh] these past few months). The blue either side of the green represents the tarns and the Lakeland sky; the green band, the fells themselves. I really like that.

HBT – very anti-establishment. Very ‘edgy’. Very…..Edinburgh-living-probably-all-English-with-a-silver-spoon-up-their-ass-hangover-from-what-could-have-been-living-vicariously-through-their-lost-student-days irony. I really like the…simplicity of the vest. Brown. Bog brown. Befitting the Hunters Bog Trotters. Their name, and shitty coloured vest, belies an awesome bunch of runners. It’s like calling ‘Manchester United’, ‘Salford City Reds’ (oh…that name’s already taken). They’re a cross between Borrowdale FR (who I suspect genuinely had better things to do than hold a meeting over the colour of their vest so just went with whatever colour they all had in their wardrobe at the time….quite why it was ‘purple’ though??) and P&B (the original anti-establishment punks).

HBT looking eclectic

Dark Peak FR – similar sort of brown as HBT. Similar sort of reasoning behind it too. The brown is a peaty, Peak-y brown, a nod to the moors around the Steel City. As for the origins/meaning behind the rather fetching go-faster yellow/purple stripe combo, well…insert ‘shoulder shrug emoji’ here. I am, as ever, both clueless (no, not Ian Clueless. Not that wanker) and open for re-education.

DPFR avec P&B forming a lovely sandwich with an Ilkley filling

Lochaber AC – white and blue. I believe, again correct me if I’m wrong, that the inspiration for this vest came from the film Braveheart? The white symbolising the pasty whiteness of those ‘north of the wall’ and the blue stripes, the woad dye that Mel and his pals smear on their faces like high-school Yank “footballers”. I’m pretty sure that’s right, so we’ll just go with it. Don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story blah blah blah. To me, they are only ever a blur, blitzing by on, what a wearer of the vest would posit, a ‘runnable downhill’, but which you and I would commonly know as a sheer, 300ft cliff face.

Eryri Harriers – green hills and red dragon?? Probs. That’s a very Welsh thing to do isn’t it. Who can blame them, if the cap fits..and all that. Classically recognisable. A bit of an ‘Ambleside’ look about it. Two colours. One band/hoop around the tits. Done. But they wouldn’t be Eryri without it.

Pudsey & Bramley AC – surprise their vest isn’t a string one with ‘FUCK OFF THATCHER’ emblazoned across the front. As it is, it’s (dare I say it) almost ‘preppy’. The club being fell running’s very own ‘Dead Poet’s Society’; giving a front that is arty, anti-everything and off kilter but indelibly at one with the ‘establishment’, the ‘man’. Nahhhhhhh. They just do the business and run hard. A rare beaut this one. Maroon with a gold diagonal stripe. Like Peru’s national football team, except Peru have their stripe going the wrong way down. Idiots.

Calder Valley FR – (bit of a missed opportunity for piss-taking here…thanks to ‘RB’ at ‘MF’ for pointing this one out!) The ‘Where’s Wally?’ of the fell running fraternity. I say ‘Where’s Wally?’ but it could also work with their most famous son, Ben Mounsey (aka Derek Zoolander), with a ‘Where’s Ben?’. Actually, sack that, just grab an atlas and look up “Italy”, he’ll be there. Mystery solved. Failing the ‘Where’s Ben/Wally?’ slant, you could also be forgiven that they’re a club of Turkish barbers. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Shit. There’s just so many! For the first time ever in this blog I’m going to apologise…and mean it. I’m sorry if your club isn’t included. I’ll be here all night if I wrote about all of the iconic vests. I’ve not even done my own club FFS!

P.S. did you like the sheer number of cheesy, cliched sayings I got in today? Not many at the start but once I got warmed up…it’s a game of two halves, as they say.

You’re welcome.

P.P.S. please don’t threaten to sue me if you don’t like what I’ve written but haven’t the basic brain function for any other comeback/don’t like that I’ve used your picture without due credit (like I’m the only fucker who does…)