The Runner and the Crab

Here is a fable from Italo Calvino in 'Six memos for the next millennium':

Among Chuang-tzu's many skills, he was an expert draftsman. The king asked him to draw a crab. Chuang-tzu replied that he needed five years, a country house, and twelve servants. Five years later the drawing was still not begun. "I need another five years," said Chuang-tzu. The king granted them. At the end of these ten years, Chuang-tzu took up his brush and, in an instant, with a single stroke, he drew a crab, the most perfect crab ever seen.

Although this is a story about how it takes a long time to perfect a skill, it is wonderfully condensed. It says nothing directly about how it is feat is achieved. The implication is that the final drawing is the result of all the life experiences but we don't know if he spent the time in contemplation, study, endlessly practising or getting drunk. In other words we know nothing of the training, we only know there is one final, perfect performance.

In this way the story can apply to sport as well as art because sport is also about those extraordinary moments when a lifetime of practise and trying suddenly come together in a way that transcends all previous expectations. Think of Bob Beaman in the 1968 Olympics (see the Wikipedia entry here)who in breaking the world record by such a wide margin also broke the hearts of all the other competitors. Think of Paula Radcliffe in the 2003 London Marathon, cheered on by the whole of the city. Such moments also bind the spectators in a collective euphoria. For example I can still vividly remember the mounting excitement of the closing laps as David Bedford broke the world 10,000 metres record at Crystal Palace, 35 years ago.

In the fable there is a painting that will continue to exist but for the sportsman there is only the moment. The record books tell nothing of the spirit of the moment, memories get distorted and TV pictures flatten out the physicality of the event. The moment can only be savoured and then there is the next event. Sometimes the magic can be repeated but eventually there will be decline, and that state of grace can never be recaptured. That is the law of nature.

But what of all of us plodders who will never get close to such perfection, is there anything we can take from this fable?

Actually there is quite a lot because it is not primarily about the crab, it's about time. It's about recognising things take time and that you are ready when you are ready. Before that there may be nothing - you have to be patient, have faith and keep going.

And that is all you ever need to know about running

Except its own Furtherance

Today is wonderfully warm and sunny. It is as if the weather has switched from February to June without the intervening months. As a result everybody has come out and the woods and fields are alive with people enjoying the outdoors, blinking at the unfamiliar sunlight.

I have been on the trails in the woods but instead of taking a familiar route everything was done randomly: left, right, straight ahead, all based on what the path looked like, with no idea of destination. I ended up in places I had not previously been, without a clear idea of exactly where I was. Quite by chance I came across a carpet of bluebells, a patch ahead of the rest of the woods, that created its own soft haze of violet blue.

I so desperately want this to be a metaphor for my running: I have no clear plan or any idea of where it my lead me; all I want it to occasionally discover the odd moment of peace, repose and beauty.

As for why this is important I found this is in the introduction to 'Cultural amnesia' by Clive James (there is a neat review by Nicholas Lezard here):

The usual division is to treat our daily job as the adventure and our cultural diversions as a mere mechanism for renewal and repose. But the adventurous jobs are becoming more predictable all the time, even at the level of celebrity and conspicuous material success … The real adventure is no longer in the job. In the job we can have a profile written about us , and be summed up: all profiles will be the same and all summaries add up to the same thing. The real adventure is what we do to entertain ourselves … But even the entertainment can no longer be adventurous if it serves a purpose. It will be adventurous only if it serves itself. In other words it will not be utilitarian. It has always been part of the definition of humanism that true learning has no end in view except its own furtherance.

Well that will do.

More Cheers From The Sideline

So a short time after celebrating the performance breakthrough of Plodding Hippo I really must do the same for my sister and brother-in-law. Last Sunday they ran the Vancouver Sun Run in 54 and 46 minutes. Last year they completed the run in 63 minutes so their improvement is brilliant and even more satisfying is that they did it together and could feel good about themselves and each other.

I am full of admiration because I know of their whole-hearted, honest approach and desire to do things properly. The schedule they followed was the Sun Run's run faster schedule and it shows what can be achieved by being disciplined enough to follow good advice

I am on the sidelines cheering and thinking again of that poem read out at last Saturday's wedding

All the happiness in the world is caused by wanting the happiness of others
And all the unhappiness is caused by wanting happiness for yourself

Now you could logically argue this is not totally true but it does contain a fundamental truth. The great thing about mass runs like the London Marathon or the Sun Run is that they are celebrations of endeavour. Thousands and Thousands of people are wanting or working for the happiness of others. Not only should the runners be saluted but also the supporters like Beanz, who travelled down from Derby to cheer on her Runner's World friends.

Yes it is good to cheer on the achievements of others.

Continuity

Over the weekend I attended a rather wonderful wedding in the New Forest. In some ways it was a reminder of how weddings used to be before the growth of the 'wedding industry'. A group of relatives and friends gathered for a simple ceremony before going to the pub for the reception. The pub was old with low ceilings and oak beams and outside, all around, were the trees of the forest, fresh green with the new growth of leaves, and soft with the mist of rain that had just stopped. All was continuity: a wedding, a new beginning, celebrated in a place that had seen many such celebrations through the generations, in a landscape that had retained its character for hundreds of years.

In the ceremony there had been two readings. One was a poem by John Donne, the other a poem by a Buddhist poet. As I looked out at the trees I thought of Buddhist verse.

It is difficult to cover the world in leather but if two feet can be shod then the task can be accomplished.

How many times had these paths and roads been covered in leather? I saw myself running, covering a small part of the world, leaving little trace, part of a history of animals and people who had covered the same ground. Again I saw continuity.

Continuity is not a reason for running but, if you do run, it is one of its characteristics. You are doing what your ancestors did, what you were evolved to do. You pass through the landscape one run leaving little mark but over time paths are worn. You follow the paths of those who had gone before.

Looking at the trees of the New Forest and remembering my runs through the woods of Ashridge it was undoubtedly a romantic notion. But if you cannot entertain romantic notions when at a wedding, when can you?

P.S. the quote is only approximate. I have an atrocious memory for verbatim quotes. In this case I could not check the wording as I did not catch the name either of the poet or the title of his poem

Cake

One of the traditions of cycling is the cake stop. It makes an outing pleasantly English to pop out for a nice cup of tea and a piece of cake – it gives a focus for the route.

The National Trust tea room at Ashridge is perfect as they serve the tea in a mug and their cakes are home made. The cakes are so well regarded the man who makes them was persuaded to produce a little book with all the recipes.

Although there is not the same tradition in running (i.e. you don't want to break off in the middle),this place is quite important in my training. It is the start point for one of my circular routes and when I finish I am particularly partial to their chocolate, walnut brownie.

Why bother with sports bars or recovery drinks when you can have a mug of tea and a brownie?

P.S. The cake book showed the importance of good proof reading. It had to be withdrawn and then reprinted as ingredients were missed out in a couple of the recipes (in one case it was flour!)

P.P.S. As you can see from the photo my bike is a Planet X Kaffenback. I have to make sure it lives up to its name.

Plodding Hippo is Pretty Nippy

One of the great things about running is that you can take genuine delight in the achievement of others. Because we have internal goals that are untarnished by the accomplishments of others, we can look with a clear eye at and enjoy other people's successes. From the fast to the slow there is an awful lot to celebrate.

The London Marathon is, of course, full of stories of wonderful accomplishments but the one that gives me the most pleasure is of someone who has broken her personal best by such a wide margin she will have to start a new page and look at herself as a different type of runner. Plodding Hippo had previously run over 70 marathons, not broken 5 hours and thought of herself of someone who chugged around at the back. On Sunday she not only broke 5 hours she broke 4hrs 30. Brilliant.

It just shows what determination, consistency and character can do. However I reckon the biggest challenge will be changing her self image. It takes a long time and whilst the mind is coming to terms with the new found speed it can act like a brake.

Anyway all I want to say, if she still reads this blog, is many congratulations

Proust, the Squid and the Runner

This is from a review of the book Proust and the squid.

... reading has given us "the gift of time"- time when our thoughts can move beyond the words on the page to new levels of understanding, time to think the unthinkable. Reading is not just about absorbing information and finding ready-made answers; it is thought-in-action. There are no pre-packaged answers in life. "We can receive the truth from nobody," said Proust; "we must create it ourselves."

If you just substitute the word 'running' for 'reading' this quote is a description of what I am doing plodding along in Ashridge or by the canal.

So if anybody asks you 'why are you doing running?' you can reply “I am just testing something that Proust once said”. (You will then be slapped round the chops for being a bit of a pretentious fop).

Anger and Detachment: Cycling in London

These are very small incidents and many more of them happen on every road, every day.

Last Sunday a group of us went for a walk around Lyme Park. At first we tried to park in a car park that has access to a disused railway line that is now a footpath, a canal, and the footpath up to Lyme. In other words it is a base for recreation. Lots of other people had the same idea and although it was full cars were still streaming in. As it was a bit awkward to turn round and get out cars had to make room for each other. A woman was doing this and therefore blocking the road up to the spaces. This incensed the driver behind and I watched in fascination as he gradually increased the pitch of his swearing and got redder in the face. It was a place to go to for pleasure so why was he so wound up? Sunday mornings should not be like that! It just reminded me how angry everybody seemed to be with all other road users.

There is an badly designed cycle way at the bottom of Gordon Square in London. Lots of traffic wants to turn right into the road to get to Euston but they not only have to cross the lane of oncoming traffic they have to cross the cycle path with bikes coming in both directions. It requires extra vigilance. I saw a near collision where the cyclist berated the driver for not looking and the driver turned round and yelled “ Well I would take more notice of you lot if you paid any notice to traffic lights!” The conversation was very loud.

On the South Circular Road near Kew Bridge two lanes merge into one. Instead of the orderly intertwining of one vehicle from one lane with the next from the other, one van was determined not to allow this to happen and kept as close as possible to the bumper of the car ahead. The van in the other lane was outraged and wanted its space so they both carried on in parallel, with the road running out, looking at each other swearing and gesturing. It was silent slow-motion ballet

A few years ago I was crossing the road at traffic lights, waited for the green man and set off but had to jump back as I was nearly barged into by a cyclist who had not intention of stopping at the lights. I could have coped with that if he hadn't shouted at me to look where I was going, as if it was my fault. As he disappeared out of sight all I had was the bitter taste of impotent rage. After I had stopped wanting to chin him I had one of those moments of insight and realised that over time the traffic had increasingly been getting to me.

I had been making the egocentric error of thinking people were deliberately getting in my way or being malicious idiots just for the fun of it. I used to get especially annoyed at traffic lights, when other cyclist would just cycle through. The annoyance was increased if I then caught them up between lights was then obstructed. Taxis and bendy buses were enemies and pedestrians were no better when they wandered out into the gutter without looking.

Things were getting stupid and so I decided to let go and cycle by two maxims:

The first and most important is that cycling in London is transport and not training. Getting or proving fitness has nothing to do with anything as you are only trying to get from A to B. There will be lots of obstructions and you will have to stop and start many times so don't worry and let the journey take as long as it takes.

The second is to not worry about what you cannot control. You cannot control the way other people treat the highway code so you have to become detached about their actions. However for your own safety you have to be very aware of what they do. The more you become detached the more you must increase your vigilance.

Two simple rules but the consequence is that I do not count any cycling in London towards cross training. The way things are it is more the equivalent of strolling.

Categorising my Run

How should I categorise my latest run? Usually I judge runs in terms of how well I have done, whether or not things have gone to plan, or by how I feel at the start compared to the finish, what sort of day it is, or by what I have seen. Today however it is none of the above: the run is about smell.

First off I ran through a park soon after they had finished cutting the grass and new-cut grass is the sweetest of smells. It is tied up in my memory with so many nice summer days or sports fields and the promise of a new season.

'Is it my favourite smell?' I wondered before I passed the coffee roaster's factory, by the canal. The air was full of that rich coffee smell and it made me realise how much the enjoyment of the drink was bound up in its aroma. I even enjoyed the smell before I liked the taste. I can remember, as a young child, being taken to a café in Croydon, where you could see the coffee being roasted in a small, brown stained, revolving drum. I was fascinated. My enjoyment was also helped by the fact that I loved their doughnuts, which were round and then sliced open to be filled to overflowing with jam (previously I had thought doughnuts were disc shaped with a small amount of jam hidden inside).

So I could make no decision on may favourite smell and had more or less put the question out of my mind when I passed one of the barges burning coal. This is another great smell but you only want it in small quantities. You do not want every house using coal for heating, as used to be the case. You do not want the air heavy and gagging with smoke. But here on the open water, one fire is perfect and again it takes me back to my childhood when I used to love looking at the patterns of the flickering flames.

So there you have it a run of three smells. The first I associate with optimism, hope and renewal; the second is tied to continued sensual pleasure; and the third is a link to the past and a reminder how, in some ways, things are better now.

So how would I categorise my run? I think I would say it was evocative.

Taking Things For Granted

I have been away visiting relatives and met-up with a brother-in-law who has spinal muscular atrophy, a degenerative illness that affects the link between the brain and nerve fibres so that instructions cannot be passed to the muscles. The muscles cannot be used and thus atrophy.

He can walk a short distance, on the flat, by hauling himself with the aid of stick but cannot negotiate even the smallest of steps and he can only get down stairs by sitting and then bumping himself down, like an infant. Over the past six months his condition has worsened considerably and it is very distressing because he no longer trusts himself to go out by alone and feels himself a prisoner, someone who has been robbed of independence. Everything is made much worse by depression.

We probably made matters worse by trying to be helpful - suggesting place he could go with good disabled facilities and mentioning someone with his disease who gone to the Arctic to raise money and awareness. The first topic was not too bad but the second was a mistake as his shoulders visibly sagged. Such tales of adventure were demoralising rather than inspiring.

“There are all these people who seem to be able to do all these things ......” He trailed off lost in thought about his inability to get out of the house, feeling defeated all ways round. Not only did he have his own difficulties there was the thought of other people coping with more vigour and adventurousness. It is bad enough being ill without taking on extra guilt for not doing enough.

I said something vague like 'he could only do what he could do and he should no pay attention to the achievements of others' but it sounded a bit woolly and well-meaning. I wanted to make feel a bit more real by relating it to running where I know there are people capable of times I can barely imagine and there are all sorts of people I cannot get near. But I can run a race at my own pace and be satisfied or disgruntled according to that standards. There are always little markers I can use to judge how well I am doing, little things that can be achieved. I wanted to say this but I didn't because I was self concious about talking about running to someone losing the use of their legs. It did not seem like a brilliant topic of conversation. I also did not want to talk about myself.

I hate to admit it on this blog but there are times when running just seems like a diversion; it doesn't seem that important. But having said that I went for a nice easy 10k today and felt that warm glow of satisfaction. Running still feels like a good thing to do. However I did spend some of the time thinking about how messages are sent to the muscles and how we control all the adjustments needed to keep our balance and move forward. There is no way I could make any sense of it.

How grateful I am to be able to take such movement for granted.

Hunting and Running

For the last meal in 'The Omnivore's Dilemma' Michael Pollan cooks only what he has hunted or gathered. He has thus gone back to roots of our species, back further than 10,000 years of agriculture.

Although he only learnt to hunt to complete the structure of his book, once he was in the woods, tracking the wild pig, he became entranced and revelled in the sense of heightened awareness and attentiveness. As a modern metropolitan journalist he became almost embarrassed at the purple prose he wrote about his experience, yet he could not help it - he was recording what he felt.

The writer he relies on to support his attitude is Ortega y Gasset, whose 'Meditations on hunting' is a philosophical examination of the activity. In it he talks of the state of awareness of being fully part of nature and contrasts it with people who tramp through the landscape as tourists.

As a runner one of the places I feel most at home, find most pleasure, is in the woods. Although I have written about the attraction of this as feeling you are part of the landscape; on the Ortega y Gasset scale I must be counted as a tourist. The reason being that when running you can never give full attention to the world outside, there is always a part of you concentration on your breath, your legs, your ease, your effort. In some ways you blunder along, alerting all the wild animals to your presence with the noise you make.

Yet, and yet, I still think that all of us exerting ourselves on those trails are more than tourists. We are part of nature. We are using our legs in the way they were evolved to be used in woodland that has been here for who knows how long. Although we do not need the full attention of a hunter we need to be attentive to the path to avoid ruts, roots, slippy slopes and obstructions. We must be careful where we place our feet.

Sometimes the magical can happen. My favourite running moment has nothing to do with racing or achievement. It happened early one morning, when the mist was beginning to rise on what would be a fine day and I was running along a fairly broad grass pathway in the woods. To my left, ahead I saw a group of deer. I slowed and walked carefully as close as I could, stopped and then held the gaze of the deer for several seconds before it moved its head, turned around and loped off. For one moment there had been a connection and we had been two animals in the landscape.

When I am crashing about I might not be very agile or elegant but I am at least aware of being an animal, a participant in the woods not a spectator. Not really a tourist.