Christmas run

Went for a run this morning and I can’t think of a better way to start Christmas. Whilst my wife and elder daughter went to church, I ran alongside the canal. In our own way each of us were contemplative and felt in touch with the wider world - before we got down to the serious business of opening presents.

My run felt fresh. There were few people about - the odd dog walker and some couples out for a stroll - so I was determined to greet all of them. This is not my normal behaviour as us southerners are trained at an early age to avoid all eye contact and act as if we are invisible. I was thus not cheery and effusive but even my limited greeting was a bit too much for some people. Others though were really warm and that made it feel like Christmas day.

Down by the canal there were some narrow boats with smoke coming from their stoves and the smell of the burning coal was quite evocative. Open coal fires are now a rarity so the smell takes me right back to my early life. Even beyond that as I thought of early photographs of the canals and industrial towns, with smoke coming from a mass of chimneys and a black pall. From a few canal boats the smell can be nostalgic but it also remind us of how quality is now o much better. (I say this of course from Hemel Hempstead, which had an enormous black cloud of smoke overhead for a good few days).

There were other things that heightened the reality of the run. A woman dressed as an elf loading presents into a car made me smile, seeing kids out on new bicycles was just how it should be and the peeling of the church bells as I returned to the High Street brought everything together.

To all of you who read this have a very happy Christmas and to all of you who have posted comments in the past I would like to say how much I have appreciated them.

Smoke

No running today - it's probably not a good idea to be out breathing in the smoke fumes from the fuel depot explosion.

I have no dramatic stories to tell. I was asleep at 6am when I stirred to see my wfe looking out of the window. "wasssupp?" I mumbled. "There has just been a big explosion and the house shook" she replied "Oh" I said and fell back to sleep again. I have a really impressive, hair trigger, emergency reflex.

It was just like the big hurricane of 1987 when I slept through the whole thing and was only woken by the telephone. When I answered I sounded like a complete numpty, not knowing a thing about what had happened.

It is really rather strange today - I look out of the window on one side of my house and the sky is dark, whilst on the other side the sky is blue and bright.


 

Faster Smaller / Slower Larger

There is a lot of concern with the pace of modern living, with endless articles about stress, long hours, and the pressure of constant availability. Road rage is a symptom of anxiety about having ones progress checked, computer rage happens when things don’t work properly and take longer than expected, shopping rage happens when other people get in the way.

A lot of rage and a lot of expectation that everything can be done quickly and then quicker again.

There have been two recent books on the subject: Faster by James Gleick and In praise of slow by Carl Honoré. The first is really a descriptive list of ways that things have speeded up. The other book is more interesting because it has a central idea that things have gone too far and need to change.

The moment of epiphany for Carl Honoré was seeing an advert for One Minute Bedtime Stories and initially thinking it was a good idea. Then his brain kicked in and he started to think about what was important in putting your kid to bed and reading and how real communication takes time to develop.

The other side of the need for speed is that things have to be smaller and more digestible i.e. reduced to a size we can encompass in a glance. If the world is seen from the window of a speeding car then the scale is lost.

The importance of running is that it is a paradoxical antidote. One of the aims is to train to increase your speed. What is a race but going as fast as you can?

But this can only be achieved slowly. There are no short cuts. Training takes as long as it takes, as you cannot cheat your body. At the core of a training schedule is the long slow run – the building of endurance by running comfortably. You go at your own speed, it you try to go faster you will not last the distance.

The other thing is that you are part of the landscape and everything is in its proper scale. You can recover your sense of wonder at the landscape, or at buildings. Not only can you see things afresh every time you run, you actually feel the distance. Your physical capabilities limit your span and keep everything in proportion.

There is a poem by Theodore Roethke, The Waking:

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.

All you have to do is replace the word wake with run.

Why I did not run

Some months ago there was a Doonesbury cartoon where Mike asked his daughter what she thought of the appointment of John Bolton to the UN. She replied that he was just another right wing ideologue who never got over the left wing ideologues of his youth. You boomers are still refighting the 60s and since you are now running the show the rest of us have to suffer for it.

On the public level there might be a lot of truth in this observation but is it also true privately? I have therefore been spending some time sifting through my interest, beliefs and views to see what is hung over from the 60s and 70s - not only what I thought and did but also what I missed. One of the questions was: why did I ignore the first running boom?

The easy answer is that I never enjoyed running much at school. I was not a particularly competitive athlete (I suppose I just about attained mediocrity), but was fairly good at ball games. Running was thus something you did to get to the ball not something to be done for its own sake. Not only that, it was about bursts speed and uncomfortable if maintained for any length of time. But this is nowhere near the full answer.

At heart though I was not really serious about sport. I dropped organised team games by the age of 20 and what was left was a mixture of pick-up games or squash or tennis with friends. There were cultural reasons for this – there was a big divide between the social attitudes of a rugby club and the aesthetics of the counter culture. I was more interested in the latter.

Running should then have been the perfect sport, with none of the sports-jock, rugger-bugger ethos and being about self-actualisation. But I didn’t think of it that way – if I was not competitive, it was exercise and the idea of exercise for its own sake was alien. This is one of the great changes in social attitudes over the past 30 years. It is now generally acknowledged that exercise is a good thing in itself and running has helped bring this about. At the time however I was behind this curve, and exercise was just an unacknowledged by-product of activity. I was fit because I cycled 14 miles to work everyday but I never thought about it as sport - it was transport.

In this I showed a continuity of attitude with my parents (who were always active but in a purposeful way). So at a time when I had been questioning a lot of the social attitudes of my parents’ generation I actually shared some of their values.

Looking back I see even more of those continuities.

Letters to an Intimate Stranger

Rummaging through the jumbled attic I like to call my mind I thought about Jack Trevor Story.He was someone who took pride in being a professional writer, a craftsman, who wrote with great style and humour. In the 70s he wrote a well-regarded saturday column in the Guardian, that was later collected and published under the title ‘Letters to an Intimate Stranger’.

I think is a wonderful title and I remembered it because it is now a perfect description of what we do with blogs. I will sometimes write things I haven’t told other people and I am always impressed by the openness of the blogs I read.

But if we are intimate strangers I think the word 'strangers' needs to be redefined.

A post around three quotes

This is really a follow on from my last post about turning my back on technology – to get back to basic training.

Its not base training – I am not bothered about trying to go long at a steady 70% of MHR – I rather like mixing up pace. All I seek to establish are good habits – a regular pattern of exercise rather than the erratic boom and bust that has characterised my progress up to now. But consistency is always difficult.

“I ache in places where it used to play” (Leonard Cohen – Tower of Song)

Everything has to be done within the constraints of a crumbling body. At the moment I have rotator cuff tendonitis, my shin is still a weakness and cannot be pushed to hard, my left hamstring is sore and my right quads do not feel too clever – oh and the plantar fascii of my left foot ache a bit as well. All of these things are niggles rather than big flaring injuries but I do not want them to get worse. They are constantly in the back of my mind and I do not think I can do heavy mileages at the moment. I can only try to establish a pattern that is sustainable and then gradually take it from there. Its not bad and when I run things are fine but I am a bit fed up with listening to my body - I wish it would just shut up for a bit.

“Out of the crooked timber of humanity nothing straight can ever be made” (Kant - Idea for a Universal History from a Cosmopolitan Point of View 1784)

One of my personal weaknesses is an inability to stick rigidly to any plan. Everything I do has to take account of the way that the grain of my character is warped in this particular way. I am always tremendously impressed by people who can see clearly what needs doing and then do it. I wish I was more like that but I am not. I have to work by indirection instead.

So my only objective at the moment is just 4 exercise sessions a week. 3 of them can be anything but the long (or longish) run is fixed.
If I do this I will be able to congratulate myself on some consistency.

“All our knowledge begins with the senses, proceeds then to the understanding, and ends with reason. There is nothing higher than reason.” (Kant, Critique of Pure Reason)

My basic training is an attempt to understand the sensations of running and the way my body reacts. With that I can start to apply reason and become more structured in my approach. But at the moment running is for me mainly sensation i.e. the base level.

That is why I have to do basic training.

Out with the Garmin! Out with the HRM!

It is not quite as dramatic as that. I have not done some extreme life-laundry and thrown away all of my clutter. In fact I have not so much abandoned these tools as they have abandoned me. The first to go was the Garmin - it would not stay on for longer than 30 seconds. A couple of months later I broke my heart rate monitor, or rather broke the fixings that hold the watchstrap in place.

Although the Garmin has now been replaced, it was away for about six weeks and during that time I got used to running without it. Similarly with the HRM, my first instinct was to buy a new one straightaway, but I hesitated and now I am wondering if I need it at all. I am quite happy running by how I feel and only measuring the time I take. It is not just that it is simpler - I don’t really need the extra information.

The Garmin, for example, never changed my training. I just looked at the results, and although I was impressed by all the figures and thought it was fun, that was all. The HRM did change my behaviour as I used it on long runs to keep my heart rate below a certain level. However I now find it much easier and more direct to use my breathing as the guide.

If I were a finely tuned athlete trying to run to the absolute height of my powers, then close monitoring of every session, an accurate assessment of every variable and a comparison with the training plans would be appropriate. Lance Armstrong treats his body like a precise piece of machinery and wants to know everything about the way it performs. His results show the benefits of that approach. However, even if I was younger, never by any stretch of the imagination could I be like him. And as I am there is just too much fat, both literal and metaphorical, to cut before precision has any meaning.

All I need to do is go back to basics and establish a regular routine and carry on doing this until I feel I am ready for more structured training. Then I might want the toys again but until then all that matters in time on feet and for that a watch is good enough.
In fact it is better that that - it is liberating. No more spitting on the strap and adjusting it so that it has proper contact and then fiddling around when the heart rate gets random, no more waiting around for the satellite signals to lock. All you have to do is put on your shoes and run.

Simple - and afterall this should be a simple sport.

No one possess the truth

In today’s Guardian there was an article praising the virtues of the novel and its importance in times of growing intolerance. The full article can be found here but the key paragraph is:

The genius of the novel, according to Kundera, is that it is able to accommodate multiple moral universes, each interacting with the other, without the need to subjugate any one of them to some all-encompassing conclusion. The novel is pluralism in action. As Kundera puts it: the novel is "the imaginary paradise ... where no one possesses the truth, neither Anna nor Karenin, but where everyone has the right to be understood, both Anna and Karenin".

I had not come across the quotation by Milan Kundera before, so when I read it it was fresh and I almost shouted out loud some inanity like “that is so right”. Novels can increase our understanding by encouraging an inclusive form of thinking that recognises characters/people on their own terms. When you look at Mrs Bennett in Pride and Prejudice she is not just silly and ridiculous. She is a woman with anxiety about the future well-being of her family in the face of a genuine problem, whilst her husband, a much more intelligent and sympathetic character, locks himself in his study and avoids the issue. In the best novels, as in life, things are not black and white.

Surprisingly it is the same with running. On one level there could not be a more clear cut sport –you run so far in such a time. There is no dispute and the winner of the race is the one who goes fastest. Simple.

Except that it isn’t. It is not the reason I run. It is not the reason that hundreds of thousands of people plod along the streets. Most of us will not be near the front of a race and so we need other motivation – and in that motivation there are a host of different stories and criteria of success. Some people want to prove themselves through competition whilst others want to prove to themselves that they can run to the end of the street. Some want to loose weight and feel better about themselves whilst other just want the satisfaction of movement. Some people are pushing themselves hard, others are introducing a balance into a sedentary life. The wonderful thing is that all reasons are valid and there is as much strength, determination and virtue at the back of the pack as there is at the front.

Understanding people’s hopes and expectations and being able to celebrate their successes enlarges us all and also makes us realise that there is no one-way to do things. No one possess the truth.

In that way running is just like the novel.

River view

It's been I long time since I returned from holiday yet all I have done is post a couple of holiday snaps and then walk away. Almost as if I had become disengaged from the blog and associated conversations. There have been two main reasons: the first is an effort to cut down on the amount of time I spend in front of computers; the second is a general feeling of blankness and a desire to not repeat myself too much.

The first reason is positive - something I brought back from holiday where the evenings were spent outside, eating , drinking, talking, doing stuff. It felt good and I resolved to do more with my evenings - do stuff, or in other words try to tackle my backlog of tasks. Now that I am fresh fro the triumph of decorating the bathroom I feel I can backslide a bit and do some browsing and typing.

The second reason is totally negative. In an attempt to do something about this feeling of flatness I left work early today to go to the Tate Modern. Leaving aside the artworks, it is a place I sometimes go to think. The Members Room has one of the best views in London - you feel you can almost reach out and touch the dome of St Paul's. I sat on the balcony and looked across at the city and thought about how much of my life was bound up in the place. My eyes flicked around and I associated memories with buildings and places. Blackfriars and the amazingly ornate art nouveau pub, the Mermaid Theatre and thoughts not of plays but of being in the audience to see the first performance of Metropolis by the Mike Westbrook Concert Band and the joyous noise of a freeish big band.

My gaze then moved back to the BT Tower, a building that from this distance still looks modern after 40 years. I thought about my father who used to work for Post Office Telecommunications (as it then was). Around me were people talking into mobile phones and in his working life he could never have imagined how phones could become not just important but an extension of some peoples bodies.

The age in which he tried to estimate traffic and plan capacity is a world away. He used to tell the story of how he was partially responsible for the Whitgift Shopping Centre in Croydon opening without enough telephone lines. He had surveyed the area on a summers day. The Whitgift School, which had been there since Tudor times, was picturesque and from the playing field he could hear the crack of bat on cricket ball. He thought it was timeless - at most over the next five years they would need 10 extra lines. Shortly after that the school sold its land for redevelopment planning needs were not well enough communicated and there wasn't enough exchange capacity.

I then looked down at the riverside and people strolling in the sun, enjoying themselves. There were some kids on skateboards and also a few runners. Looking at those runners in an area rich in personal associations I remembered why I write this blog - I want to talk about the engagement through physical activity with landscape through and with the imagination.

So feeling suitably pretentious I had better start posting again!

Blue Remembered Hills

When I run at home the colour is green. The canal is lined with trees whose leaves colour the view and on the edge of my vision are grassy fields or a golf course. Ashridge, has trees, ferns and commons – mostly green. In Canada there was a lot of blue. Although the mountains were covered in trees they always looked blue from a distance and when we were by the sea or the lakes there were shimmering layers of water, hills and sky.

Here are a couple of examples:

Miracle Beach on the east coast of VI looking out over the Georgia Straits towards the mainland.

Looking out from Tofino on the Pacific coast.

Fire planes on Sproat lake

This sense of colour probably doesn’t mean much but running in the landscape did feel refreshing. “First the body. No. First the place. No. First both. Now either. Now the other.” I am strongly affected by the landscape when I run. Somehow I want to feel part of the land; also I want views to distract me – when the going gets tough I want to be able to look up and convince myself that I am doing this for enjoyment.

When I looked at the mountains or the water I stood a bit taller and probably ran a little bit slower. Not that I did much mileage, mostly they were small runs at the start of day – but through running easy I discovered the value of the filler run. It gives rather than takes energy and sets up the day.

There were a couple of wildlife encounters to spice the interest; the most exciting of which was seeing a cougar. My wife and I were running a forest trail outside the campsite at Goldstream when we heard a crashing through the undergrowth about 30 metres away, up the hillside. At first we thought it a deer or large dog but when we looked closely we recognised the movements of a large cat and the markings of a cougar that had been disturbed by the sound of our heavy footfalls.

Another time, when I was by myself, I came close to a deer. We looked at each other, both standing very still, after a couple of minutes the deer sidled away, still keeping eye contact, before ruining off into the woods.

There was plenty of wildlife – watching eagle became almost commonplace and plenty of views. Above all there was space.

Coming back from Canada always feels the same – everything feels crowded and a bit claustrophobic. But I am now back, still a bit hazy but beginning to adjust... It is home after all.

This Blog is going on Holiday

It is holiday time and tomorrow we fly to Vancouver to visit my sister and go camping on Vancouver Island.

Here are some pictures of the campsites we have booked:
Goldstream,
Sproat Lake
Miracle Beach


So for a few weeks this blog will blogs will sleep.

In the meantime I will give you my recommendation for holiday reading. Inspite of its title it is not about running. It is a novel about someone who finds himself on a quest, almost by accident. Without a plan he cycles across America to identify the body of a sister initially lost through madness. He meets people who help him and others who he helps; through this he remembers the person he was before his life atrophied. Intertwined in this is the story of his sister, the love he had for her and the effect she had on the family. It is not a gloomy book - there is a lightness and humour.

I can justify the recommendation on a running blog because one of the themes is the way daily physical activity, a little at a time, can add-up to become a great endeavour, which can then reconnect you with yourself.

Life goes on - it always does

This is a running blog and one of the constraint I set myself is to try to try to stay on subject, even if the link might be a bit tenuous So far it has not been a problem, and I have found things I wanted to say but between Thursday and Sunday this was not the case.

I was not personally affected by the bombings in the sense that I was nowhere near them when they went off and I know nobody who was directly involved. I am not someone who reacts to external events with great emotion and my life is much as it ever was. But, and this is rather a large but, my mental landscape was empty – like a ghost town in an old western, where the only movement is a tumbleweed blowing down the street. I had a constant sense of eerie quietness.

Thursday itself was very strange. I only knew something was wrong when colleagues phoned-in saying that they were having difficulty getting into work because the whole underground network was closed down because of power surges or a security alert. The rest of the day was spent trying to get work done with fewer people whilst constantly checking on the Internet to see more news. There was a horrible obsessiveness about reading the same things again and again to see if there was any more information. I finished about 7pm and ran to Euston (4 miles)to catch my train home. It was a most unpleasant run, where everything felt wrong. I felt wrong and the city was all wrong - theatres, bars and restaurants were closed and even Covent Garden was subdued. But I did not feel the emptiness until I got to the Euston Road. It was closed to all traffic - so still, so quiet.

It was then that I remembered the Potters Bar rail crash. On that day I had been at a meeting in an office block in the concourse of Potters Bar station. Our party was breaking for lunch, just walking down the stairs, when we heard the crump of the crash. We ran to the station and were amongst the first people there - trying in some way to help and not really knowing what to do.

When I think of what happened I don’t really remember what I saw: the broken bodies on the track, looking like puppets whose strings had been cut, or the way the carriage was wedged under the platform roof at a crazy angle. Instead I feel the stillness. Everything was quiet, disconnected and empty – and that is what I still feel inside myself. On thursday it all came back.

After that I did not want to write about running but I did want to run. So on Sunday I went back to my canal and my base run. It was leafy, beautiful and peaceful and, although it was a bit too hot and I suffered more than usual, at the end I was uplifted. My spirits were restored.

Now once again I want to write about running. The whole point of this blog is to try to record those moments when the simple act of putting one foot in front of another for a longish period of time can transform the way you feel. Make you once again feel connected. It is what I am trying to express.

A good animal

In my post ‘Running Retreat’ I mentioned that one of the objectives of running was to become a ‘good animal’ . That phrase was not mine; I found it, via George Sheehan, from this passage by Herbert Spencer:

“Emerson says of the gentleman that the first requisite is to be a good animal, and this is the first requisite for every one. A course of life which sacrifices the animal, though it may be defensible under special conditions is not defensible as a general policy. Within the sphere of our positive knowledge we nowhere see mind without life; we nowhere see life without a body; we nowhere see a full life–a life which is high alike in respect of intensity, breadth, and length–without a healthy body. Every breach of the laws of bodily health produces a physical damage, which eventually damages in some way though often in an invisible way the mental health.” (Herbert Spencer - ‘The Principals of Ethics, Vol. 1 Part III: The Ethics of Individual Life’, Ch. 5)

If it is important, and I believe it is, to look after our physical health, then it is important to know our animal nature. In the running manuals this is often glibly referred to as ‘listening to your body’ – it sounds fairly straightforward but it is not.

When we spend days sitting indoors, travelling, shopping, meeting, eating, drinking – just doing the normal things; it is very easy to become disconnected. We cannot interpret the messages. Is it an ache or a random twinge? Is that pain a message of damage or just a transitional stage, as things get stronger? Even the straightforward things are not clear. If you stand upright and close your eyes do you know that you are straight and balanced, or do you unconsciously favour one side or another, are you leaning forward or back?

Listening to your body can be a bit like being tone deaf at a concert – you know in principle what is happening but you can’t quite work out the detail.

For me part of the activity of running is learning to strip away all the rust and corrosion that has gathered around my senses and so feel myself in space. Part of that involves taking responsibility for what I do to my body and what it needs. Another part is learning to trust my basic animal nature and the wonderful machine I have inherited – finding out how strong and resilient it is, by learning and experimentation.

I do not think my body is especially wonderful (you just have to look at me to see it is not). I think all of us have great capabilities because that is how we evolved – after all our ancestors could out-run the antelope. It is that history I am trying to glimpse.

Now read how someone else has pursued that goal far more effectively than I could ever hope.

It's the everyday things

Although I have been running since the stress fracture mended, my left leg has never felt quite right. There have been all sorts of aches and twinges just above the ankle and a dull ache along the plantar fascii; however there has been lack of pattern to the aches and I have been unable to tie them to any run or type of activity. As a precaution I have therefore been cautious in mileage, surface and speed – just sort of ticking along really. This does nothing to increase my fitness and I have needed large dollops of faith to believe that everything will be OK in the end.

Now I actually believe things will be all right because I have had one of those blinding eureka moments when another example of my stupidity became clear. The problems are the result of my posture at work, where a large part of the day is spent in front of a computer. Without being aware I have tended to sit for long periods with my legs bent backwards under the seat, on the toes of my left foot with my right ankle resting on my left Achilles. This has stressed my tendons with a passive weight and kept the plantar fascii under tension – not very clever. When this suddenly became clear I stopped. Magically my foot has started to feel easier. I am now making a conscious effort to sit straighter, be more balanced, and keep both feet on the ground in front of me. This must be good.

It only goes to show that not everything on your run is caused by running. What we do throughout the day: how we hold ourselves, how we move, how much we move, all contribute to how we run. If we repeatedly put our body out of balance we will create a weakness that running will magnify because the pounding of running makes it an attritional activity like water on the landscape.

The problem is that most of what we do during the day is habitual and unconscious and it is difficult to be continually aware and know whether we are doing the right thing.

I think I will just have to try harder.

Not a training run

I am not sure whether it shows a healthy state of mind or not but today I have taken a holiday, just so I can do a long run. The weekend will be taken up with a family wedding and running time will be curtailed. So the run had to be today – and I am really glad it was. The temperature was perfect, the trees were beautiful and there was hardly anybody else about.

I have two areas for my long runs: the canal, which I have talked about at length and Ashridge. Today was Ashridge.

“Running across the borders of Hertfordshire and Buckinghamshire and along the ridge of the Chiltern Hills, this area comprises a series of common-pasture woodlands, chalk downland and commons. Once a medieval deerpark, this estate covers some 5,000 acres. Walkers will enjoy the 16-mile boundary walk or the six shorter self-guided trails. Points of interest include the Monument, built in 1832 in honour of the third Duke of Bridgwater, the pioneer of Britain’s canals, and there’s a visitor centre near here too. A good time to visit the estate is late spring for a dazzling display of bluebells, and you can take in some super views too, if you climb Steps Hill to Ivinghoe Beacon. Look on the estate for a good number of surviving ancient oak and beech trees. Frithsden Beeches is not surprisingly a good area for the latter, whilst Berkhamsted Common and Aldbury Common are good locations for the oaks.” (Woodland Trust)

There are still plenty of deer and this morning two herds crossed my trail. The first time they were just milling about, the path was dappled with sunlight and there was a sense of quietness and peace. I looked at them for a while and then continued; they then ran off but I was smiling.

These moments lift the spirits and it is one of the reasons why I will not describe today as a training run. Training implies that what you are doing is preparation for something else whereas this is what I run for - it is the whole point. It does not mean that I will not put in training miles – there will always be those. It just means there are some days when you realise what the training is for.

Looks like this is another entry in my manifesto for the soft-core runner - except I don't want it to sound as if its written by some bucolic Polyanna.

Running retreat

There is an article in today’s Observer about the growing popularity of retreats that contains:

Adam Phillips, the psychoanalyst and writer, is not surprised by the growing popularity of retreats: 'People are aware of having too many external stimuli. What do you hear when you stop listening? The question is about whether anyone has an internal world any more.'

This is what running provides. Every week my long run is the equivalent of a retreat, because there is nothing but the movement of the body through space. This can happen automatically – you get into a rhythm and the body takes care of itself allowing the mind to be blank or drift onto various topics so that attention can drift. Alternatively there can be full attention and one is aware of how the muscles and breath are working together. In a similar way you have a sense of the space you are moving through, either through having to pay close attention to the ground because when you are off-road you have to be careful where your foot lands or by having a more generalised appreciation of the landscape, which tends to come in and go out of focus.

Through running you discover your animal core and without that I do not believe you can have a complete sense of being. Running is obviously not the only way to do this; yoga, for example, stretches the body to prepare the mind for meditation. I find running a better route because it is simpler, more direct and rhythmic. However I only really get a sense of oneness on long runs. In one of my earlier posts about injury I quoted Joe Henderson saying that when he was not running he really missed the short, nondescript, filler runs. With me that is not the case - I easily drop those. What I miss, and miss with great interior agitation, is the long run and the chance (as it does not happen every time) of getting to the state of sensing the body with an empty mind.

I think this forms part of my manifesto for the soft-core runner. The hard-core runner is deeply wedded to stats and targets, mileage and times (mostly long and short, in that order) but I am soft-core and my objective is the ineffable sense of being a good animal. Through that, eventually I might become a better person. (The might and eventually are heavily underlined in the last sentence).

Sourcing quotes and the extraordinary

In George Sheehan's 'Personal Best' there are a number of quotes from philosophers and writers that have some bearing on running. Mostly they are well chosen and crystallize a particular point, however none of them are referenced. They are introduced in a really lazy way like: "Emerson said...", or even worse " A French sociologist pointed this out.. ". I don't know who is at fault, an author who can remember a quote but not its source or a publisher who does not want to clutter up a page with footnotes. Whoever it was does not matter, the other person should have insisted on proper standards. Even a popular books should allow the reader to follow-up its content, through an index and references.

I particularly wanted to look at a quote from Jean-Paul Sartre:

"Only in games is man free because only in games does he understand what is going on"

I have no idea of its source and Google has failed me; so I will have to keep on looking. However the search is not without its rewards - not only have I decided to reread Roads to Freedom I have also found this quote from Nausea:

" I believe the word adventure could be defined: an event out of ordinary without being necessarily extraordinary."

This is a great definition of how I view running. When you look at the population as a whole, what we do is out of the ordinary but it is for the most part not extraordinary. There is however the possibility for the extraordinary, even the heroic. This report from Andy Collier about his completion of the Lanzarote iron man despite being ill with a stomach bug is a case in point. I don't know whether his endurance and bloody mindedness is exemplary or stupid, but it is certainly heroic.

The other thing that shines out from is account is the behaviour of Matt who offered both kindness and support out a sense of community. I think that is the great thing about triathlon or running. Mostly we are alone in our practice but we are also part of a community who share an understanding of what we are trying achieve and what we need. We are never really alone.

Now is the time

I like near-science when it confirms my prejudices.

I have never believed in the idea of new year resolutions. Always I start the year by thinking of things I would like to see happen but tend not to do anything about it until about now. This is obviously the right approach because the day to start your new life is May 18

It is just so difficult to motivate yourself at the beginning of the year when the days are short and the weather is grey and cold. It is not a time to diet because your instincts tell you that you need comfort and warmth. It is not the time for training for the same reason. So for those who did a spring marathon - I salute you. I think it is much tougher than running in autumn when you can train on warmer days, in the light.

Me I'm planning for autumn.

What did I learn?

On Sunday I went for my first long run for ages. Through the woods of Ashridge, amongst the bluebells with the leaves scattering light in speckled patterns – and I felt nothing, not a twinge, not the slightest tenderness. My injury and rehabilitation is over and it is time to consolidate the lessons.

1. First and most obviously – running is experience. Thinking or talking about it is no substitute because you have to feel your immediate experience.

2. Suffering an injury makes you painfully aware of the consequences of your own actions. Whilst I had previously paid lip service to the idea of being careful and trying to run injury free, I did not fully feel it and did not really pay full attention. I had previously been able to experiment with different patterns of training without adverse consequences and so I thought my body was stronger than it actually was. I have been stripped of that illusion and know I have to always keep hold of that sense of frailty.

3. I have identified my area of weakness and that gives me something to work on - a way to improve.

4. There is nothing so damaging to your running fitness as not running – obvious but true - so taking unnecessary risks is stupid. Gradual progress is optimum progress, however I know I am prone to stupidity and need to constantly remember this.

5. Running is not the only exercise. By working on other parts of my body I actually feel stronger and these new routines need to be incorporated into my ongoing pattern. In particular I have been working on core muscles and shoulders. I have a theory that you need strength there to maintain form over the long distance.

6. All the exercises in the gym just feel like preparation - they are not an end in themselves, whereas running is fully sustaining.

However all that is mere mechanics the most important lesson is that running is incredibly important to my sense of being. It also makes me easier to live with. I found this out at a dinnertime conversation on the subject of shop names when I said my favourite was ‘Run and Become’. “Become what?” Asked my younger daughter. “Whatever you can be,” I said “It ‘s a path not a clear objective” “Yes” said my wife “you are far more content and relaxed when you are running”.

I don’t want to become a grumpy old man.

Water

How do we know something is true?


I don’t want this to be a post about life, the universe and eternal verities – this is after all a running blog – but it is important to know that advice we receive is well founded. It is important to know that any science has been accurately reported and translated and the sources can be checked. If advice is based on experience then that experience must be directly described with all the circumstances to allow the reader to separate the more general lessons from the particular, individual instance. Then we can make judgements.

Sometimes, however, I worry that things are assumed to be true just because they are frequently repeated. Take hydration – apparently you should drink 2 litres of water (and only water) a day otherwise you risk chronic dehydration. This is an example of that sort of assertion from the BBC website. I know this is not a from a sports site and the article drifts off into something that should be savaged in ‘Bad Science’ in the Guardian ( I particularly enjoyed the electromagnetic memory of water and the idea of implosion research has a sort of charm), but I have seen similar water advice in a number of places.

In particular there is a lot of anti-caffeine prejudice. As someone who mostly drinks a mixture of coffee, tea and green tea I find this very tiresome. I have drunk like this most of my adult life and have not become progressively dehydrated and shrivelled like a prune (although my brow is rather too furrowed). My favourite recovery drink after a long run is a big mug of tea and I don't want to change that – so I will continue according to the motto that if experience contradicts the theory; stick with the experience.

However there is no contradiction. This article on the urban myths site Snopes seems to be the sort of balanced assessment I like - it means I do not have to change my ways. The worrying thing is that it cites a self-published book as the main source of the myth about chronic dehydration. How can such a publication have such a big influence?

One of the consequences of the Internet is that it allows rumour and speculation to be passed off as fact because of a weight of repetition. Alomost anything can spread like a virus. It is thus increasingly important to check sources and always ask: how do I know this is true?

The middle path

Decisions are not really my forte. Somehow the gene that enables you to weigh up your options, clearly see the best course and then act on it, has passed me by. I usually find the good and the bad in everything and end up doing something in the middle. This is not ideal, as you do neither one thing nor the other and the end result is a place in purgatory as described by Dante:

Who are these that seem so crushed beneath their plight?
And he to me: These miserable ways
The forlorn spirits endure of those who spent
Life without infamy and without praise.
They are mingled with that caitiff regiment
Of the angels, who rebelled not, yet avowed
to God no Loyalty, on themselves intent.
Heaven chased them forth, lest their allegiance cloud
Its beauty, and the deep Hell refused them,
For, beside such, the sinner would be proud.

Now this is might be a bit of a dramatic response to something as trivial as not tying your shoelaces properly, but such small things are indicators of your level of care and attention.

I have two pairs of trainers: Asics DS trainers and Mizuno Wave Rider and have been running in them for ages being fairly happy but feeling that the fit was not quite right. I tied the laces of both to my standard level of tightness and never thought much about it. However after some experimentation I now find that both shoes are really good and the Asics in particular are fantastic. All that was needed was to loosen the laces of the Asics and really tighten the laces of the Mizuno’s around the forefoot. Magic and stupid at the same time.

The moral is clear – the middle way is not the right way.

More importantly, this applies to my training as well, where I tend to do my long slow runs too fast and my faster runs too slow (I think this might be a common error). It means you end up doing miles that have no clear benefit. I think eventually it grinds you down a bit and you lack snap in the legs.

I am now trying really hard to be disciplined and today felt comfortable running at a nice easy pace. The result is I feel relaxed and refreshed and ready to take on other forms of purgatory.

The mystery of running

In a previous post referred to a Scott Rosenberg blog about the craft of writing and linked it to running. In another blog he highlights a review by Cynthia Ozic about writing conveying a sense of mystery.

...There is no all-pervading Proustian madeleine in Lelyveld's workaday prose. Yet salted through this short work is the smarting of an unpretentious lamentation: ''If this were a novel,'' ''If I were using these events in a novel,'' and so on. Flickeringly, the writer appears to see what is missing; and what is missing is the intuitive, the metaphoric, the uncertain, the introspective with its untethered vagaries: in brief, the not-nailed-down. Consequently Lelyveld's memory loop becomes a memory hole, through which everything that is not factually retrievable escapes.

It must be true that the best writing conveys a sense of the mystery of its subject. The question is: is there anybody writing about running who is able to convey its mystery - why it is so compulsive? why it gives you a sense of being? why it has a structure and a sense of purpose? Most of what I read is very functional - very nailed-down. This is fine because we need to know the science of what we should be doing, what has the best effect and how we should organise ourselves. However it gives no sense of why you should be running and the way it can make you feel connected. I need that as well.

There are some examples: Long distance information by Julie Welch is wonderful book. It intertwines a memoir with running. It is both about taking up exercise late in life and the way it enabled her to come to terms with the ghosts of her childhood and her career. It does not directly address running but running is the catalyst and by showing this she says more than any number of how-to guides.

The other writer I come back to is George Sheehan. On why he runs he says:.

Through running I have learned what I can be and do. My body is now sensitive to the slightest change. It is particularly aware of any decline or decay. I can feel this lessening of the "me" that I have come to think of myself,,,Running has made this new me. Taken the raw material and honed it and delivered it back ready to do the work of a human being. I run so I do not lose the me I was yesterday and the me I might become tomorrow.

In this essay he recounts an encounter with a shingler. One of them is doing useful work, making something, the other is running but they are both 'doing good'. I love this because it leaves hanging in the air the idea that although your running does nothing to make the world a better place, it is still doing good.

My favourite run

This is where the running blog turns into a travelogue as I illustrate my favourite run


I had just joined the canal and taken out my camera when a lone runner appeared. I like the idea that the day started on theme.




Canals have their own atmosphere that is different to the places they pass through. The mixture of ramshackle buildings, trees and boats softens the view of the Kodak Building - an undistinguished (ie ugly) office block - that dominates the entrance to Hemel.



Of course there has to be a view from a lock. This is taken from a canal bridge, all of which are rather steep. I always walk down them to save my knees; I have no idea how the horses managed.


I always like the way that the willows reflect in the water - it reminds me of an imprssionist painting.


This piece of gentrification is on the site of the John Dickinson paper mill. In 1809 he invented a method of continuous paper manufacturer (as opposed to handmade sheets) and started production in what had previously been a flour mill here at Apsley. As the firm grew so did site and he also brought mills at nash Mills and Croxley. This site was closed down in 1999.


Canals are places of contemplation, whether it is fishing or just staring. In the background is the chimney of Nash Mills where paper is still produced - so not all links with the past are broken.


On the theme of significant industries that have moved away - this is the Ovaltine factory being demolished to make way for more houses. The first factory on this site opened in 1913, however it was replaced by this Art Deco building in 1929.

I always thought that Ovaltine was an English product (perhaps because I associate it with my childhood and milky drinks before bedtime). I only found out that it was Swiss when the factory closed and production moved back to Switzerland.

Ovaltine was originally developed as an energy drink and some of its advertising made outrageous claims. It was also the official energy drink of the 1948 Olympics. Hmmmm SIS or Ovaltine what will I choose for my long run?


Another link with the past is the great institution of allotments. All those years of people growing some of their own food.


In the lee of the M25 spur road there is a pond off the canal where there are coots, swans and bulrushes.


I will finish with this picture of a bridge for no other reason than I like the play of light reflected from the water. On bright, peaceful days I might just forget I am meant to be as serious runner and stop to stare at the gentle movement.

Back Again

Back again. It is amazing how easy it is to drift away from posting. Part of the reason is that I have not been running and not running makes me feel low.

The shin splints I had turned out to be a stress fracture - so it is just a matter of waiting until everything is 100% normal. But am getting a little paranoid, always testing how the leg feels - comparing it with the good leg and it is very difficult to be positive when you have lost confidence in the bodies ability to heal itself.

Nevertheless, slowly, slowly things have improved and I have a certain amount of faith that I will come back stronger. One of the reasons is that this break has forced me to look at my whole body and realise that running is not enough. There have to be other exercises to keep the body in balance.

I have been working on not only on strengthening all the muscle groups in the legs but also trying to increase flexibility (my hamstrings are pathetically short and tight). Core strength is not too bad but can always be improved, but shoulders are terribly tight - too much time in front of a computer.

I thus have a cunning plan to gradually introduce running into a more balanced exercise regime. I refuse to call it cross training it is far more sanguine than that.

Blink

I have recently been reading Blink by Malcolm Gladwell (there is quite a good article about it here). It shows the power instinctive perception and the way our adaptive subconscious can understand things quickly and accurately by focussing on reduced amounts of information (something Gladwell calls thin slicing). He uses anecdotes and psychological studies to show how this can be both impressive and dangerous.

As a book it is not a highly structured work with a thesis derived from a clear chain of evidence; rather it organises research findings and personal stories around a central theme. Some of the stories are well known (like the attempt to change the taste of Coke), and the research is not necessarily recent. (Quite by chance, when searching for information on Hans Keller, the musicologist, I found a 1994 article by someone else with the same name, that described some of the research Gladwell used - the work that enabled researchers to accurately predict which couples would stay together, after observing a mere 15 minutes of their conversation). This allows some critics to dismiss the work as being less than the sum of its parts and something that tells us nothing new. However this misses the genius of Gladwell, who is able to find subjects we know subconsciously and illuminate them in such a way that we can both recognise them and see them in new ways. He is an “Of course I knew that; I just never thought about it before” sort of writer; someone who gets you to think about your own behaviour and the way you react with the world. In some strange tangential way that allows me to link it to running.

In Blink he describes three states. In the first the instinctive, quick response is precise and better than a laboured analysis. In the second instinctive perceptions are overlaid with too much data, which confuses rather than clarifies. The last state is where instincts are dangerous and wrong because they are just expressions of blind prejudice.

In running it is the equivalent of knowing how to listen to and trust your body. The first state is the ideal – the moments we train for – when we feel at one with everything and do not have to think because everything is in place and moving perfectly. The second is when we overlay the basic activity with too much analysis – should I be landing under my centre of gravity? Should there be more hill work? Should I have different shoes? What should I be eating? etc etc etc. The third is the lazy acceptance of false ideas of our own capabilities I’m not fast enough, not strong enough, too tired too weak.

So the question is how do you get to the state where you know you can trust yourself? The answer is actually obvious – training, testing and analysis. Blink is not a celebration of instinctive perception. It is a celebration of instinctive perception based on thorough training. The academic who could predict if couples would split could only do so after analysing hours of tape, the professor who learnt to read people’s minds by their tiny involuntary facial expressions could only do so after identifying each muscle movement and reproducing the movement himself. In every example the ability to know things quickly was based on a lot of work.

So with running the way to get to stage one is through stage two. One has to find clear and straightforward answers to the questions and find out what works for us by paying careful attention to our own and other people’s experiences. To do that you have to run, then run some more. Simple really.

Old habits

In the beginning I thought that running was something that could be separated from the rest of your life. No matter what else was going on, when you ran you could cut off everything, revel in physical movement and find a feeling of peace. The physical sensation and sense of contentment is real, but it is an illusion to think it can be isolated from the rest of your life. Nothing you do is unrelated.

Now I said something similar in the previous post but at the time I didn’t realise how important an insight it was. No action is without consequence and that is especially true of the repetitive small activities you do not even notice. The way you sit in a chair, stand upright, drive a car, walk about, they all form how you hold yourself and that in turn determines how you run. Small changes can accumulate to have a big effect.

This was brought home to me very forcibly when I was watching a video analysis of my gait. It was not a pretty sight. My feet were splayed outward like a duck and my inner ankle was at an ugly angle. The strange thing was that when I had previously had a video analysis I ran much straighter – my gait was far more neutral. So over time the angle of my feet must have changed, unnoticed, very gradually until it became unstable.

When running you follow what feels natural, i.e. the body follows the line of least resistance and then reinforces it like a river in a valley. That line must have been formed by all of my daily movements: I stand with my feet in a v shape for balance, when I drive my heel balances on the floor and my feet splay out to control the pedals, when I cycle they also splay a little, when I lie on my back they fall open, when I sit at my desk my feet rest at an angle. I don’ think I am ever straight.

I must correct my habits – get my legs used to being straight and parallel. It will not be easy because many years of bad habits have to be corrected, but I will start by being aware, sensing the alignment. When we run we are constantly told to listen to our bodies but that advice tends to concentrate on effort and pain. I no longer think that is enough – we have to feel our posture and try to maintain proper balance. We need full body sensing of ourselves in space.

Below base training via a detour

Coming back from Paris was rather fraught. The fundamental cause was my stupidity (something that streaks through most of my activities). We had flown to Charles de Gaulle airport with Easyjet, paid no attention to the terminal and just caught a taxi to North Paris. Going back we had no idea which terminal we needed but thought there were only two and that Air France dominated 1 so that 2 was the most likely.

When we got off the train there was no guidance, no information point, no list of airlines - nothing but arrows to 2a, b,c,d,e etc. We picked one of those at random and found an information desk where we were told we needed terminal 3 and that there was a bus, which we caught. It stopped outside a building and we walked through the doors only to find a dark deserted concrete space, with no signs of life or even any signs to show us where we were. We were frustrated and baffled. Eventually we found someone to ask and were pointed in the direction of an unmarked walkway to the terminal.

The point of this anecdote is not to wallow in my own helplessness; it is to show the value of good signage. It is something as ancillary to the main activity, that might seem unimportant. When it is done well we don't even notice it. However when it absent or badly designed it messes up movement and makes things difficult, even unusable.

I began to think of the equivalents in running - the unconsidered activities that are not counted as training, not even noticed but actually have importance for your performance. For me they would include commuting. Home to station, station to work I am active in a way that is not be included in any training diary but over the years gives me a base. For others it could be any activity that involves regular walking, standing or lifting.

This base is at a deeper level than base training - it is the substrate below it. The more active you are the better you can build. But there are other areas that could be worked on. Posture is a good example. I am terrible - I sit slumped in front of a computer most of the day. I should be holding myself better so that my spine is properly aligned so that when I run everything is straight and square and the forces are evenly dispersed.

These are unconsidered things but they allow you to be in good shape for your training, allow things to move more freely – a bit like good signage.

Reason No. 13 for running: It is built on the whole of your life.

Some problems with cross training

Wonderful though off road cycling can be there is sometimes a downside. After my latest ride my bike looked like this:



And I looked a bit like this picture of Fran Cotton:




When I got home I received a pitying look, questions about my sanity and a request to not spread mud everywhere (the last was impossible). Things were so bad the post-ride beer had been skipped - something previously unknown.

That said the challenge to keep going was quite exhilarating (I only lost it twice, when there was just no traction between muddy tyre and slippy surface). It was also harder work than running - the wheels just got sucked into the clay. I think it must have increased the strength in my quads quite amazingly.

No cold bath nonsense after such a ride.

Depression and running

One of my favourite columns in Salon is the personal advice given by Cary Tennis. People write in with all sorts of issues and sometimes he gives advice and some times he just ruminates of the subject, mostly he does both. This article is about someone who feels empty and overwhelmed because he has not lived up to his own expectations. His early promise has dissipated and he feels hopeless and depressed. The commentary by Tennis is heartfelt and perceptive; you sometimes have to fail, let things go and then rebuild.

I had a number of thoughts about the article at first I started to relate it to running.(Surely I am not showing signs of obsession). I thought about how hard it is to admit failure and readjust your programme. I have done that this year with my target for a spring marathon. I was so far behind schedule because of injury and I knew I could not catch-up but a lttle voice was always saying: go on you might make it, you never know, you have to try. I was torn and disappointed but when I made the decision to let go everything become simpler and more hopeful. I swear that my leg started to feel much better when I stopped worrying about it.

After that I started to think about running and depression and how it (or any similar physical activity) could help with this sort of low-key depression (i.e. a grinding, wearying despair).

I am sure that it works far more completely that just a chemical reaction caused by a surge of endorphins (though there is nothing wrong with that). It can help restore a sense of achievement and self worth, something that the correspondent had completely lost.

Everything else in your life might be in a state of chaos and collapse but when you run things are simple and ordered. You can always check your achievements, whether it is speed, distance or time and you know what you can do. You can prove that you are getting better. When everything else is failing you know you can run - and when you do run nothing else is important.

It might only be a little thing and it certainly is not enough - but it is something.

There might be a problem when your running has hit a plateau and you can no longer see improvement and don't think you are as fast enough. This in itself could cause despair. But it might not - it should not; because running is honest and it forces you to know your limits and there can be no pretence. You are forced to be realistic about your capabilities and plan within them. It is possible that this acceptance might be transferred to other aspects of your life and by doing so break down unrelenting greyness and start to deal with things a bit at a time. It is possible - but by no means inevitable.

Perhaps the most likely effect is the simple and direct one. It makes you stronger and that strength can be used to tackle the central problems.

Even if running does none of the above it still offers temporary relief by taking you away from things. That is still something.

It is interesting that Cary Tennis suggested that the person should take up writing – that is what he does. I started thinking about running - that is what I do. Perhaps we all have see other people's problems through our own lens.

Reason No. 12 for running: It might give you some strength

Cross channel training

Jeff Galloway very instant that long training runs should be done slowly, at least 2 min/mi below marathon pace. He states that you get exactly the same amount of endurance training whatever the speed; all that matters is that you do the miles. So it is better to take your time and be easier on yourself. In fact he gives no lower speed limit.

However I am not sure that my activities for the past few days can be counted towards any form of cross training. I have been to Paris to visit my daughter and spent most of the time walking around the sights. It is true that I have been on my feet for long periods of the day, but it has only been at wandering pace – the urban shuffle that I actually find more tiring than running.

In all conscience I don’t think I can put anything other than a big round zero in my training diary. However the time has had other beneficial effects such as the feeling of well being that comes with eating good food and the lift in spirits that comes from looking at good art.

My daughter is doing something that I can only admire – taking a year out from work to learn French and understand the culture. She has fallen in love with the city and I think she is going to have some problems when she decides to resume her career. But that is in the future and who knows what will happen. At the moment she is having an adventure that all that matters.

She still runs. She chugs around a local park most mornings. The spur of the moment decision we made to run the Great North Run has changed our behaviour and we continue to be a family that runs together, separately.

Thinking of injuries

As injury is the main thing on my mind at the moment, I thought I would reproduce some words of encouragement from Joe Henderson. It helps to think that in the scheme of things running injuries are minor.

Injuries can be good for you. The bigger they are, the better they can be -- if the pain eventually lets up and lets you run again.

I'd go so far as to say that you don't truly become a runner until you've endured an injury. You don't fully appreciate running until you've almost lost it.

My first big injury was good for me. After suffering with it for a year, I turned to longer and slower running -- which led to long and fast racing that lasted from the mid-1960s to the early '70s.


-- They are likely, if not inevitable. Almost everyone who runs gets hurt eventually, and almost everyone gets better soon.

-- They are minor. Seldom do these injuries interfere with normal life, or require a doctor's help, or extensive and expensive care.

-- They are self-inflicted. Usually they result not from "accidents" but from the Big Four mistakes -- running too far, too fast, too soon, too often.

-- They are self-treatable. Usually they respond quickly to simple adjustments in training type and amount.

-- They allow activity. If it isn't reduced running, then it can be an agreeable alternative.


It's best to develop a long memory, so you never forget the worst of days. This adds to your appreciation of days that are back to normal.What you missed most was getting out for the little everyday runs, the fillers. They're the ones not worth bragging about because their length and pace would impress no runner. Getting down to the little efforts, you now see, is at least as important as getting up for the big ones.

Injury time

There have been no posts for a few days due to a computer meltdown. Somehow Windows managed to completely garble itself and in the end would not open at all. I have just spent most of the weekend repairing it and then uninstalling and reinstalling drivers and some programs, Now that is all finished life can resume again - except for one very important detail - the running.

Now I might have given the impression that this blog is written by a runner. It is not. It is written by an injured runner - a completely different sort of being. Injured runners are full of envy and frustration and tend to feel rather stupid because they know that mostly their injury was caused by lack of proper care (well at least this one does). The depths of my stupidity are rather frightening and I am embarrassed to admit to them but have to, if only to show what happens when you break almost all of the golden rules.


Mistakes of the Amateur part 1 - Getting injured

Rule No 1 - Do not change what works
I have always been forefoot striker, wearing cushioned shoes and running mostly off road, with very little hill work. This has been good and I have felt easy and relaxed doing this. However I have a tendency to tinker with things. I became quite interested in the threads on POSE (mainly because it seemed to be quite similar to my native style) and the idea that to run this way properly you needed to be as close to barefoot as possible. I thus followed a wave of enthusiasm for Puma H Streets and bought a pair of shoes that are no more that a soft mesh top stuck onto a thin strip of rubber. I took them for a jog round the park and found their lightness entertaining.

I had also been thinking that the lack of hills in my training was a weakness. At Abingdon I had no strength in the last 5 miles and I thought this was not only due to too few training miles but also to a lack of hill work.

Rule No 2 - Introduce change gradually.
OK I did give the shoes a short break-in but their arrival coincided with the plan to change the training, so the next run was a long, on a hilly route and all on pavements. So 3 things were changed at once breaking the scientific rule of of only changing one variable at a time.

The run felt fine but there was a problem running down some rather steep slopes. My usual way is to go floppy and run heel first. With these unpadded shoes I did not feel like doing this and ended up putting tremendous strain on my calves.

Rule 3 - Listen to your body
Although this is obvious I was in a state of denial. When I felt a little pain in my left shin I still went for the planned 45 minutes at steady pace (albeit on the flat). I thought that the way I ran should have been protected me against injury (thinking that is classified under the heading of pathetic fallacy) and that the twinges would be run off and amount to nothing. The first part was almost right but as soon as I stopped I knew that the left leg was a bit of a mess and I could not deny a classic case of shin splints.


Mistakes of the Amateur part 2 - Impatience

Rule 4 - come back gradually
I rested for a couple of weeks and things felt OK, not fully normal but OK. Instead of trying to build up my mileage gradually. I went straight back into my schedule as if nothing had happened. After a rather tough long run I knew this was an error. The result was a bit more rest and then a period of managing the running - just doing what I could. But all the time the twinges never fully went away.

Rule 5 - Don't make the same mistake twice
I then had flu and did not run for two weeks. This had two consequences. The first was that my leg felt quite a lot better because of lack of use. The second was that I was increasingly anxious about my lack of training. My plan was to run the Lochaber marathon and be in as good a shape as possible. But the running had been messed up and I felt out of condition. I felt I had to get back as quickly as possible. As a result I repeated my error and ran too far too fast and now my shin is still hurting.

Mistakes of the Amateur part 3 - Consequences

You cannot lie to your body - it does not understand the wordsyou use to try to convince yourself. If it is hurt and you tell it is not it will reply with a shrug and say 'suit yourself, play your own games but I will not be party to your delusions'. My state of denial only made things worse so I now have to be realistic.

The Lochaber marathon was a big thing for me - it was one of my targets for the year, something I wanted to do feeling that I had prepared properly. Now I know that this is impossible. There is no way I can put in the necessary miles. I now have a new strategy: rest for a couple of weeks, cross training, and then getting back very gradually ( 3 miles 3 times a weeks and the upwards only when I think everything is fine). The long term is more important than one race and I want to make sure that I do not blow up and then give up.

I think that the essence o f running is continuity - and I have to find a way to maintain that. On Friday (when i made the decision to give up on Lochaber) I was incredibly low about quitting. However over the weekend I have come to believe that I am being positive - I am committing myself to the long term.

Reason No 11 for running: One race doesn't matter

Links to the past

The news that Allders is going into administration fills me with a nostalgic sadness. I have no link to the shop, am not a current customer and cannot remember the last time I even thought of them. Yet I feel gently sad.

The reason is that my mother’s family came from Croydon and memories from the first half of my life are full of my grandmother and visits to the town. Allders was somehow part of Croydon’s identity. It was large, dominated one side of North End (the main shopping street) and seemed to have been there forever. It had been on the same site for longer than my grandmother could remember and for me, as a child, that certainly made it ancient.

Some of the large department stores in other towns seemed also to have a social role. My first wife had two elderly maiden aunts who, everyday, used to put on their fox fur stoles and take afternoon tea at Bobby’s in Eastbourne. Allders was never like that; it was just there. But being there is important because it gives a sense of continuity. Now it may or may not survive, it may or may not be sold off, but whatever happens a link has been broken.

I am doing more and more of this type of reminiscing - thinking of the past, sifting it and making patterns. Partly it is a function of my age, feeling how remote that time now is and wanting to recover it, but mostly it is a search for continuity. Internally I look at what happened and how I reacted, the ways that my sinews of character pulled my behaviour. Externally I compare the differing textures of the times.

Running is a big stimulus to this. Physically it shows you what you can now do, which gives an easy comparison with what you could do when younger. You notice the loss of flexibility and the need for more recovery. The body heals more slowly (one of the many frustrations). However I was never in peak condition - I do not have the history of a good athlete - so I can look back quite dispassionately and just try to make sense of what is happening. I do not regret lost form.

Aside from the direct physical experience there are other reminders. Sometimes when I am really exhausted I will flash back to an all day off-road cycling trek, when we had to walk the last ten miles because it was pitch black, the trail was treacherous and we had no lights. That you survived means that you know you can carry on when all your systems want to shut down and stop.

Sometimes it is the route itself. I run along the Grand Union Canal. Could there be a more resonant location -the major artery of the country during the industrial revolution? You can think of the horse plodding where I plod or of all the people who had walked the path. Then there are the remnants of manufacturing, the John Dickinson paper mill and the Ovaltine factory. Canals show you how the country grew.

Sometimes the act of running just opens the mind up and you can make connections.

Reason No. 10 for running: It gives you a sense of continuity

Running, talking and core stability

In the current Runners World there is a half page on mental tricks; the first of which is to imagine being pulled along by a piece of string attached to the navel. I think this is a great idea as long as you ditch the string and the pulling (I could never see myself as Spiderman). All that is left is the thought of the navel but this, or rather about two finger widths below it, is what you should be thinking of, or rather thinking through. It is your centre of gravity; the core and you can imagine your energy being focused there.

This might sound more fanciful than Spiderman but it is not; it is simple and something I learnt about on a public speaking course. It is an amazingly effective way of giving yourself more presence in front of your audience. You stand evenly balanced on both feet and you think through this area and you feel more firmly rooted and stronger. This can be proved by a simple test. Ask someone to stand upright and then push one of their shoulders; typically it will give way in a fairly floppy fashion. Now tell them to stand upright and think through their centre of gravity. You will now find there is resistance and strength when you push the shoulder.

When you are running this thought locus helps with your sense of balance and posture and it will feel strong long after your leg muscles have tired. This might even help you keep going. (Well perhaps).

An experiment of one

The first running book I bought was Joe Henderson's 'Better Runs' and he remains one of my favourite running writers. He has an open intelligence and is always trying to distill his own experience as well as the experience of colleagues. He is passing on lessons learnt but not as a grand pedagogic system, it is up to the reader to decide if the advice coincides with their own circumstances and attitudes.

This accords with the philosophy Henderson's mentor George Sheehan, who wrote:

" We must have a healthy distrust and a healthy cynicism for the experts, and for authority in general. Each of us is an experiment of one. Each is an expert in the self, a witness of a personal truth, our own best authority."

I think that this is the most the profound truth about running. It does not mean that other people cannot help - of course they can; one must learn from somewhere. It means that everything must be filtered through our experience and on every run we are testing how our body is reacting. We have to learn to trust our own senses.

A simple example. There are many runners who believe, quite logically, in specialisation i.e. that the way to improve at running is to concentrate solely on running, because other activities do not develop muscles in quite the same way. These people are likely to knock out prodigious weekly mileages. Whilst other people like to mix up activities and training because they find too much of one thing is either a bit boring or over stresses the body. These people thrive on variety and will do fewer miles. Both sets of people are right.

In the same essay he also says

"My advice to these advisors would be. "Do not tell me what to do, tell me what you do. Do not tell me what is good for me, tell me what is good for you. If, at the same time you reveal the you in me, if you become a mirror to my inner self, then you have made a listener and a friend."

It seems to me that is exactly what happens on the Runners World forum and all the personal blogs. People are sharing what works or does not work for them - things that can be tested on our own little Bunsen burners. We all might be pursuing individual experiments but we are also part of a community that shares a common endeavour.

Reason N0. 9 for running: It teaches you to trust your own senses

There is still hope

This is news from a few months ago that is really quite heartening It is a statistical analysis of results of the New York Marathon between 1983-96 that found that the average times of older age groups improved more than the average times for younger age groups.

Internal models

One of the heroes of the Runners World forums is Plodding Hippo. She is always there, consistently supportive and has a great dedication to her sport. But however generous she may be in her attitude to others she is unrelentingly harsh on herself. Always she describes herself as a crap runner because she is slow. That no one else agrees with her doesn’t seem to make any difference as she consistently downplays her achievements.

It takes tremendous dedication, determination and courage to run multiple marathons and ultra marathons and someone who can do that is an impressive runner, whatever the speed. But she will not recognise this and seems to think that what she does isn’t good enough. I would not like to speculate on the reasons for this; I don’t know her and can have no knowledge of her essential truth. However it has made me think about the internal models we all have and how they provide the criteria we use to judge our own performance.

The trouble is that mostly these models hide in the shadows, bound up with feelings self worth, our place in the world, and desires of what we would like to be. It is difficult to take them out, examine them dispassionately, see whether they accorded to objective reality and then alter them. Always there is a little voice saying ‘I should be better than that’. But with running there is no ‘should be’ there is only ‘you are’. You go out and you know how far or how fast or for how long you have run (sometimes all three + your heart rate, if you are really serious). That is it; that’s what you can do. You can get better, you may get better, but that is what you are at the moment.

It is one of the things I have always had to learn to accept. In running my particular moment of reconciliation came after my first (and so far only) marathon. I wanted to do under 4 hours, felt I should have been able to do under 4 hours and for 21 miles was well on schedule for that time. Unfortunately my quadriceps then decided that they no longer wished to participate in this madcap adventure and I could barely lift my knees. I finished in 4:09. Instead of taking pride from finishing in a reasonable time my feelings of satisfaction were mixed with a certain bitterness that I had failed to meet my target and I kept on asking myself why. The answer was blindingly simple: for the amount of training I had done, that was the shape I was in and those 9 minutes did not matter. The difficulty was accepting it.

I only managed to do that when I asked myself: who was I trying to impress? Why would I feel better saying I did less than 4 hours? There was no good answer. I am not running to impress anyone and nobody I talk to is bothered by the exact time. So I then had to ask why being a sub-4 marathon runner was part of my internal model? Again there was no good answer as I have not taken up running to run specific times. Targets are good for organising training and pacing – they do not define my running or me.

The model has now been edited and is back to what it was before Abingdon, when I ran races to reveal the shape I was in at the time. That is all they did then and all they will do in the future.

Reason No. 8 for running: It does not show you where you should be, it shows you where you are.

On the beach

These are some excerpts from an interview with Herb Elliott about his coach Percy Cerutty. Although Cerutty was thought of as eccentric, he was obviously mentally stimulating and gave Elliott an appreciation of the wider nature of the sport and a sense of spirit.

It is interesting that Herb Elliott did not think he would have done as well if he had been coached by Cerutty's great rival Franz Stempfl (the man who coached Roger Bannister) because he thought Stempfl's more scientific approach was just a matter of running intervals round and round a track - something that contained no beauty.

Training the sand dunes at Portsea

"...he seemed to be more interested in using your sport to develop you into a better human being, than he did in using your sport to become a world champion. I mean he somehow or other put your sport into a much larger context than just running around in circles faster than anybody else...

Underneath it all there was a sort of sound philosophy based on 'Let's improve ourselves as human beings, let's become more compassionate, let's become bigger, let's become stronger, let's become nicer people...

And he showed me a way that I could be a better person, which was to use the skill that I had which was running, and provided that, and this is where I asked him the question. I said, 'Well how do I become a better person by running round in circles?' And he said, 'You only ever grow as a human being if you're outside your comfort zone.' And so I guess I went into all of my training and my approach to training was that you've got to be outside your comfort zone, so I was an intense, high quality trainer, and there was a lot of pain in my training sessions as a consequence of that. But I think it was one of the reasons why I just never got beaten, because every training session, four out of six, were nominated as quality, and I was used to sort of doing the hard yards at quality...

I mean running, in fact pretty well anything we do in life, has a spiritual component to it, and so I always found, and probably most people find, that they run better and easier in beautiful surroundings. And of course Portsea, with the magnificent cliffs, the reefs, the pounding surf, the beach, the tracks through the tea -tree, was just a wonderful environment to run in. And it was spiritually uplifting. So when you got down there you just sniffed in the salt air and you felt your chest expand and you could feel your muscles in your legs tingle. It just made you want to run..."


Reason No. 7 for running: It has a spiritual component

A minimalist sport

Running is fundamentally repetitive. On foot follows another, follows another, follows another, from start till stop. There are variations in cadence and effort and concentration but essentially you are always doing the same thing. So why is it not boring? This is the essential mystery of running and something I will probably come back to again and again as I fumble for an answer. I just can't pin it down; it is elusive.

All I know is that when I run I am absorbed in the activity, sometimes in a very conscious way as thoughts go flying by, other times it is almost mindless.

There are two types of thinking when running: one is external, a distraction, thinking of something completely separate like what happened last night or trying to compile your list of desert island discs; the other is internal, examining the mechanics of what you are doing, the way the feet are landing, your breathing, the movement of the muscles, the flow of air around your body, the rhythm of your footfalls

Most of the time my thoughts are internal. These are mixed with things I notice about my surroundings from the micro attention of looking where I am putting my feet and how the ground changes (important when you are running trails), to looking at the landscape. Every time I run I notice something new about the route, sometimes it is transient like the way the light plays on a wall, sometimes it is becoming aware of a feature that was previously invisible. There are always changes, minor variations that make an endlessly shifting pattern.

It is a bit like minimalist music.

Knock knock
Who's there
Knock knock
Who's there
Knock knock
Who's there
Knock knock
Who's there

Philip Glass

Reason No. 6 for running: Things are never exactly the same

This land is your land, This land is my land

I have a few running routes, but my long runs are all either alongside the canal (between Hemel Hempstead and Watford, or between Hemel Hempstead and Berkhamsted) or on the footpaths and bridleways of Ashridge. I run these routes repeatedly but never get bored, instead it seems that the more I run them the more I enjoy them.

It has something to do with a sense of ownership. By continually imprinting these paths with my footprints I feel that I own them.

Reason No. 5 for running: You can mark out your own territory.

Smell the Flowers

Don't hurry. Don't worry. You're only here on a short visit, so don't forget to stop and smell the flowers - Walter Hagan (1892-1969).

Now this has got to be one of the great clichés of golf, printed on every brochure for clubs who want to highlight their landscaping and mentioned with a chuckle by commentators when someone is unravelling before their eyes. But just because something is a cliché does not make it invalid.

The interesting thing is that it was said by one of the great golfers, someone at the top of the game. I would be hard put to think of any of today’s top sportsmen who would come out with such a quote. Now it is all about dedication, focus and giving 110/200/1,000 percent and success is validated by the hard work involved.

Sometimes when I look at the training schedules for the marathon and think they look all hard work and dedication and that is what I want to escape from when I run. It must not feel like work.

I can still remember a run of a few weeks ago that defined me forever as an amateur. It was one of those winter days when the temperature was crisp, the sky bright and the sunlight clear. I had just run a hill loop to bring me back to the canal and then I looked up. The water was completely still with the clear reflection of the trees and hedgerows, there was not a person in sight and there was a sense of complete calm. I just stopped – never mind the training, never mind the schedule – I spent the time in peaceful contemplation. It felt wonderful.

Reason No. 4 for running: It takes you to places where you can smell the flowers