This is not genteel. It is not decorous. It is not something any well-bred person should do but … this is running and physical exertion can play havoc with good manners. I will therefore admit that I have occasionally been known to spit if things get a bit phlegmy (though in my defence I will say that I always try to do this discretely amongst the wilderness that grows beside the footpaths).
However sometimes you just cannot help yourself. Towards the end of Saturday’s long run, when I was feeling tired and my mouth was hanging open, a big furry fly flew right into it. I immediately spat it out with great force and a huge hawking noise. Unfortunately I was just behind a lady enjoying a gentle stroll along the canal, who turned round to give me a look of extreme distaste. Understandable - I would probably have done something similar if the positions had been reversed.
I wanted to say it was a fly- but said nothing. I was actually totally preoccupied firstly by thinking “thank god it wasn’t a wasp” and then imagining what would have happened if it had been a wasp that stung either my tongue or the inside my mouth.
Dangerous lark running - I’m sure there must be some health and safety directive that tells us to breathe through our nose and only run with our mouths shut!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Monday, August 27, 2007
Craftsmanship
The last post was kicked off by jazz. This one is starts with some hip-hop The album is 'Talking Honkey Blues' by Buck 65, which contains the track 'Craftsmanship' It is probably about Buck 65’s attitude to hip-hop but it can apply to any activity. A key section is:
When I was listening to this track this morning I started to wonder if there was any craftsmanship in running and really struggled with the concept. I could only think of three potential areas: maintaining a good training regime; running technique; avoiding injury.
Avoiding injury might seem a strange addition to the list but it’s an important skill because it involves knowing your own body. Being able to distinguish between a twinge and an injury, knowing when to press-on or back-off, and knowing the right remedial exercises, are not easy things; especially as training regime are based on breaking down muscles to rebuild them, i.e. getting to the other side of discomfort. “Listen to your body” is one of those truisms that are easy to say but very difficult to practice because there is just too much noise.
If you read the hard training thread on the Runners World web site you know that most of the contributors spend half their time on the injury bench. Something is wrong and it does not matter if you get the other two skills right and can run like the wind. If you are constantly injured you only make yourself miserable.
Technique is interesting because it is not strongly emphasised in road running. There is a strong argument to say that over the years the body has evolved a number of ways to compensate for its various imbalances and weaknesses and that if you try to alter too much you will probably damage more than you cure. There are however some common principles of good form and it is something you can recognise when you watch other runners.
Perhaps this is an aspect that needs input from an outsider. We never know how we look when we are performing an action. All the compensations our bodies have made over time have normalised things to make them feel natural. We fool ourselves into thinking that we are in balance when what we really need are outside eyes to see what is actually going on.
This leaves training regimes, which in some ways is the easiest and the most difficult skills. It is easy because there are a number of schedules that you can find in all sorts of books. It is also easy in that there is almost instant feedback – if something is not working after a couple of weeks then try something else.
However it is difficult to find the regime that suits you. More importantly it is difficult to stick to the programme and maintain consistency (well it is for me). It could be that consistency is the most important factor – but that is a character trait rather than a skill.
So I am still struggling. With my own running I cannot find any great skill. I cannot identify the craft. The only thing I have is the experience – the feeling of the moment.
Perhaps that is enough. Perhaps that is actually the great attraction of the sport. There are no great skill barriers and anybody can run and then gather their own experiences.
You brush it, you rag it, and voila, your work is done
And that's it. You treat each shoe like it's special
Care about your work, and be a professional
There's a right way to go about your job and a wrong one
I find this way is much better in the long run
It ain't about the dollar or trying to go fast
Unless you take pride in what you're doing, it won't last
Craftsmanship is a quality that some lack
You got to give people a reason for them to come back
When I was listening to this track this morning I started to wonder if there was any craftsmanship in running and really struggled with the concept. I could only think of three potential areas: maintaining a good training regime; running technique; avoiding injury.
Avoiding injury might seem a strange addition to the list but it’s an important skill because it involves knowing your own body. Being able to distinguish between a twinge and an injury, knowing when to press-on or back-off, and knowing the right remedial exercises, are not easy things; especially as training regime are based on breaking down muscles to rebuild them, i.e. getting to the other side of discomfort. “Listen to your body” is one of those truisms that are easy to say but very difficult to practice because there is just too much noise.
If you read the hard training thread on the Runners World web site you know that most of the contributors spend half their time on the injury bench. Something is wrong and it does not matter if you get the other two skills right and can run like the wind. If you are constantly injured you only make yourself miserable.
Technique is interesting because it is not strongly emphasised in road running. There is a strong argument to say that over the years the body has evolved a number of ways to compensate for its various imbalances and weaknesses and that if you try to alter too much you will probably damage more than you cure. There are however some common principles of good form and it is something you can recognise when you watch other runners.
Perhaps this is an aspect that needs input from an outsider. We never know how we look when we are performing an action. All the compensations our bodies have made over time have normalised things to make them feel natural. We fool ourselves into thinking that we are in balance when what we really need are outside eyes to see what is actually going on.
This leaves training regimes, which in some ways is the easiest and the most difficult skills. It is easy because there are a number of schedules that you can find in all sorts of books. It is also easy in that there is almost instant feedback – if something is not working after a couple of weeks then try something else.
However it is difficult to find the regime that suits you. More importantly it is difficult to stick to the programme and maintain consistency (well it is for me). It could be that consistency is the most important factor – but that is a character trait rather than a skill.
So I am still struggling. With my own running I cannot find any great skill. I cannot identify the craft. The only thing I have is the experience – the feeling of the moment.
Perhaps that is enough. Perhaps that is actually the great attraction of the sport. There are no great skill barriers and anybody can run and then gather their own experiences.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Paul Rutherford
(This piece should have a subtitle saying that I make some connection with running, in the end!)
I think it is just a sign of my age but I am keenly aware of an increasing number of deaths of people who have a place in my inner life. The musicians I listened to, the writers I read, the actors I watched – the ones I thought had a special relationship with my own generation. Mostly these people are a bit older than me, because you tend to make the most vivid associations in your teens when they are in their prime. They have therefore reached an age where you would expect more of them to be dying. But even so it is still a shock.
Their death is not so much a reminder of my own mortality but a spur to remember the taste and atmosphere of the time. The things I heard and the meanings I attached to them.
This year has seen the death of a few people from jazz. It started with Michael Brecker and Alice Coltrane. (George Melly occupied a slightly different cultural space because I remember hem mainly for his cultural writings in the Observer) and yesterday I read of the death of Paul Rutherford.
I did not expect name of Paul Rutherford to mean much to very many people and so was quite surprise to se the size and prominence of the obituary in the Guardian. To be quite honest he was not a big name in my internal landscape – I was aware of him mainly because he played in the Mike Westbrook Band, which I really liked. But the obituary made me think of the time I used to listen to free jazz. I don’t anymore and now think it was made much more for the musicians rather than the listener. However at the time I was attracted to the idea of the hard core, the cutting edge, and an uncompromising personal vision. I think I was buying into the romantic idea of the artist as the visionary and the harder the exterior, the more profound the inner truth, i.e. I was slightly delusional.
And yet… and yet there were moments of great clarity and beauty. I don’t know quite how it happened but if you stayed with it, sometimes things just came together and something surprising and rather wonderful happened. And the people involved were genuine and committed. It was a serious endeavour.
Sometimes my running is a bit like that. It is a serious business that involves a certain amount of pain and a deal of incoherence, especially towards the end of a long run, but it does reveal moments of clarity that pay for everything. Why and how it happens I don’t know but, just as with the jazz I used to listen to all those years ago, those moments do happen and you know it is good.
I am talking about this because I read recently that Michael Nyman has been commissioned by the Great North Run to write some music that will in some way illustrate what it is like to run a long distance. It will be interesting to hear how he interprets the jumble, the false dawns, the set backs and injuries, the rhythm, the endeavour, the sense of achievement and the peace. Of one thing I am certain – music that can express those things will not be the sort of music you want to listen to whilst you are actually running.
I think it is just a sign of my age but I am keenly aware of an increasing number of deaths of people who have a place in my inner life. The musicians I listened to, the writers I read, the actors I watched – the ones I thought had a special relationship with my own generation. Mostly these people are a bit older than me, because you tend to make the most vivid associations in your teens when they are in their prime. They have therefore reached an age where you would expect more of them to be dying. But even so it is still a shock.
Their death is not so much a reminder of my own mortality but a spur to remember the taste and atmosphere of the time. The things I heard and the meanings I attached to them.
This year has seen the death of a few people from jazz. It started with Michael Brecker and Alice Coltrane. (George Melly occupied a slightly different cultural space because I remember hem mainly for his cultural writings in the Observer) and yesterday I read of the death of Paul Rutherford.
I did not expect name of Paul Rutherford to mean much to very many people and so was quite surprise to se the size and prominence of the obituary in the Guardian. To be quite honest he was not a big name in my internal landscape – I was aware of him mainly because he played in the Mike Westbrook Band, which I really liked. But the obituary made me think of the time I used to listen to free jazz. I don’t anymore and now think it was made much more for the musicians rather than the listener. However at the time I was attracted to the idea of the hard core, the cutting edge, and an uncompromising personal vision. I think I was buying into the romantic idea of the artist as the visionary and the harder the exterior, the more profound the inner truth, i.e. I was slightly delusional.
And yet… and yet there were moments of great clarity and beauty. I don’t know quite how it happened but if you stayed with it, sometimes things just came together and something surprising and rather wonderful happened. And the people involved were genuine and committed. It was a serious endeavour.
Sometimes my running is a bit like that. It is a serious business that involves a certain amount of pain and a deal of incoherence, especially towards the end of a long run, but it does reveal moments of clarity that pay for everything. Why and how it happens I don’t know but, just as with the jazz I used to listen to all those years ago, those moments do happen and you know it is good.
I am talking about this because I read recently that Michael Nyman has been commissioned by the Great North Run to write some music that will in some way illustrate what it is like to run a long distance. It will be interesting to hear how he interprets the jumble, the false dawns, the set backs and injuries, the rhythm, the endeavour, the sense of achievement and the peace. Of one thing I am certain – music that can express those things will not be the sort of music you want to listen to whilst you are actually running.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Sunday Morning
When I typed my last post I realised that what I’d told the young girl was a convenient half-truth. I was running up the hill to get fit - but only to get fit for running itself. I was not answering the question of why I run. That is something far more complicated.
I actually believe that if you just want to keep generally fit, running more than a few miles a week is not sensible. You need to do a range of activities that use all of the major muscle groups and work on strength, flexibility, and cv stamina. Running could be a part of that but weight bearing exercise like cycling or swimming might be better.
Running repetitively strains certain parts of the body and makes us vulnerable to injury. I have a vague recollection reading about a tactic from Bill Rodgers who said when he was introduced to someone he might have met but didn’t recognise he just asked how the injury was going. The other runner was always grateful for the concern.
It’s a bit like the cold reading technique of mediums, except with runners you know you are always going to be right. There will always be some tale of woe about the calve, knee, ankle, achilles, hamstring or glutes. Whatever it is it is no great advert for the health benefits of our sport.
The reasons I have for running are varied and any one time I might find a partial explanation. But they do not include general fitness.
One of the things they do include though is the sense of peace you can get on a Sunday morning. Today I went for a 30-minute hilly run before breakfast at 7.30. It was the perfect temperature you get when the day is just preparing to be hot; a few people were about, but not many. There was sense of awakening.
After getting back, stretching, showering and breakfast, I sat drinking coffee, listening to one of Keith Jarrett’s solo concerts, feeling completely clear and relaxed.
You see that is just not an answer you can give to an 8 year old – I run because when I finish I can listen to Keith Jarrett and feel at peace.
I actually believe that if you just want to keep generally fit, running more than a few miles a week is not sensible. You need to do a range of activities that use all of the major muscle groups and work on strength, flexibility, and cv stamina. Running could be a part of that but weight bearing exercise like cycling or swimming might be better.
Running repetitively strains certain parts of the body and makes us vulnerable to injury. I have a vague recollection reading about a tactic from Bill Rodgers who said when he was introduced to someone he might have met but didn’t recognise he just asked how the injury was going. The other runner was always grateful for the concern.
It’s a bit like the cold reading technique of mediums, except with runners you know you are always going to be right. There will always be some tale of woe about the calve, knee, ankle, achilles, hamstring or glutes. Whatever it is it is no great advert for the health benefits of our sport.
The reasons I have for running are varied and any one time I might find a partial explanation. But they do not include general fitness.
One of the things they do include though is the sense of peace you can get on a Sunday morning. Today I went for a 30-minute hilly run before breakfast at 7.30. It was the perfect temperature you get when the day is just preparing to be hot; a few people were about, but not many. There was sense of awakening.
After getting back, stretching, showering and breakfast, I sat drinking coffee, listening to one of Keith Jarrett’s solo concerts, feeling completely clear and relaxed.
You see that is just not an answer you can give to an 8 year old – I run because when I finish I can listen to Keith Jarrett and feel at peace.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
A short Hill Run
For the first time for ages and ages it has felt like a summer evening. Not a balmy evening after a hot day, just a blue sky, clear light and a warmish temperature. Enough to lift the spirits - a good time for a hill run.
Plod plod plod, puff puff puff.
Nearby there is a big open area, which has a slope sharp enough to make my legs feel very heavy.
Tonight I was slowly going up the hill and a young girl aged about 8 skipped along beside me for a bit
“Why must you have to do that?” she asked
“I don’t have to do it but I like to do it. It keeps me fit”
“I like to keep fit as well. But sometimes if you do it to long you get all out of puff and sweaty”
“You’re right there – that is just how I feel”
“I have to go this way now. What way do you have to go?”
“Back down again”
“Bye bye”
“Bye bye”
It made me feel very cheery
Plod plod plod, puff puff puff.
Nearby there is a big open area, which has a slope sharp enough to make my legs feel very heavy.
Tonight I was slowly going up the hill and a young girl aged about 8 skipped along beside me for a bit
“Why must you have to do that?” she asked
“I don’t have to do it but I like to do it. It keeps me fit”
“I like to keep fit as well. But sometimes if you do it to long you get all out of puff and sweaty”
“You’re right there – that is just how I feel”
“I have to go this way now. What way do you have to go?”
“Back down again”
“Bye bye”
“Bye bye”
It made me feel very cheery
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