The Photothon is Dead, Long Live the Photothon

The Photothon was an arbitrary exercise of posting as many photos from runs as there are miles in a marathon. It has now been completed and theoretically I can breath a sigh of relief, free from the need to look for photos each time I run. If the task had been irksome I would probably feel like that, but I don't. The whole exercise has increased the pleasure of running and ever so slightly changed my outlook.

No longer is a run a matter of getting out for a set amount of time at a decided level of intensity. There is always a break built in, sometimes two, where I wander around looking for pictures. This has two effects: the first is recovery, which leaves me fresher and allows me to reset my rhythm for the homeward leg; the second is I have an opportunity to enjoy the landscape more fully. As a result a run becomes more of an outing and less of an effort.

I have always believed the full meaning of running comes from trying to improve proficiency whilst feeling part of the particular landscape you are in. Looking for pictures enhances the feeling of landscape, with the short break rebalancing your attitude by forcing you look outwards. In some ways I feel like Jeff Galloway when he discovered he could go further, more comfortably with walk breaks. With me I have discovered that I can make each run seem more of an event by looking for something specific to remember it by

This picture is a good example. It is on the border of woodland and arable land, dense with thistles and bracken, alive with butterflies and bees. I stood still for a period just to watch all the activity, knowing that in a few days it would not be the same.

When it was time to move-on the first few strides were a bit creaky but that soon wore off. The lift to my mood lasted a lot longer.

Photothon 26: Ozymandias

I love looking at the canal boat's names. Some are straightforward like 'Lucy Jane' others are jokey like 'Alibi' but in all cases there is a sense of people following their fancy. There is so much more freedom than in the naming a house: can you imagine a house called 'Lucy Jane' or 'alibi'?

You come to the waterways to discover something outside of the nine to five and the boat, the name, and the decoration all express this.

'Ozymandias' is an interesting choice. It comes from a poem by Shelley inspired by the broken statue of an Egyptian king. It has the theme that all power and glory will eventually decay into dust and there is an inevitable cycle for all civilisations. Its most famous lines are:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Now my guess is that the owners do not want to liken the Grand Union Canal to the sandy boundless dessert or their boat to a decaying statue. I doubt they even think their vessel is the 'king of kings'. Instead they want to affirm to poems message that the mighty will fall. They want to quietly get-on with their canal life whilst knowing that the flash, the pretentious, the overbearing, and the masterly can be safely ignored.

That is the spirit of the waterways. It is a mixture of the make-do and mend and the beautifully appointed, the rough and the shiny. Everybody goes their own way, on their own terms. It is also the spirit of running. We all do what we can within the limits of our bodies. Some are faster, some are not, but it doesn't matter. We are all just quietly getting-on . It is why I like running here - there is an affinity.

Photothon 25: Under the shade of trees

Another broken rule! Not the furthest point but the end (and of course the beginning).

It was a hot day and the only place to run was in the woods, under a canopy of trees. There was a such a difference in temperature between the open areas and woodland that I don't think I could have run very far without that cover of leaves.

I took some photos at the furthest point and could have used them but the defining moment of today's run happened at the end, when it was over and I was doing my stretches. I am a believer in stretches after a run. Whenever I have had injuries they have usually been caused by tight calves so I spend a deal of time easing out my calves. I also have tight hamstrings and they need stretching, which I usually do by lying on my back and pulling back on a straightened leg.

I was doing this near a tree and, as is my usual practice, had my eyes closed when I held the stretch. However for some reason I opened them and looked up at the cover of trees with the sun filtering through and the blue sky beyond outlined in an intricate pattern. An enormous feeling of peace swept over me. In the distance I could hear children playing. A couple of girls were trying to work their hula hoops and some boys were building a den out of fallen branches. In another area there was laughter from a group of mums and their children having a picnic. The place was at ease with itself and I was looking up, up, up into the heavens.

Admittedly it was not all perfect balance and harmony – I did have one leg waving about in the air, rather uncomfortably – but it was a moment to enjoy. If running can bring on such moods,even if only occasionally, then it is worth all the sweaty effort.

Photothon 24: a stock run

Time to get back to real-time.

There were only a couple of rules for photothon: I should take a picture at the furthest point of the run; and that I should post it on the same day. The latter rule has been a complete shambles, especially with my leisurely flick through holiday reminiscences. The impetus has faltered and it almost seems a struggle to finish. Amazing how it parallels a proper marathon in that you can get to 20 and then have to hanging-on.

The answer is the stock run.

Stock runs are good. By definition you do them frequently; you know they give you enough exercise but will not leave you too tired; you know the ground so well it feels like home; and, quite importantly, you don't have to think about it. If you have had a period when your running has been unfocussed (as I have had this past,week, with a sore throat and lethargy virus) then the stock run brings you back.

My stock run is to Nash Mills. How could I not love it? There's the calmness of the water, the overhanging greenery of the trees, and the diversity of narrowboats. Apparently there are now more boats on our waterways than there were at the height of the industrial revolution. Brilliant! It is amazing what an effect romantics and enthusiasts can have, over the long term and how something that was once so derelict can be reclaimed.

Anyway the challenge of a stock run is finding new photographs but it is not really too difficult. You can for example look at a lock form all sorts of angles. All the locks on this section of the water are well maintained and the black and white livery looks smartly painted. For some reason there is something perfect about black and white in this setting – any other colour would just look wrong. It even matches today's running kit.

Watermarks

Apart from cows, crops and moors one of the themes of this blog is paper making. (For some reason these topics seem to be completely ignored by the mainstream running press).

By some coincidence we were visiting an area of France with historical connections to paper making. Near Angouleme there are two mills one dating from the eighteenth century the other from the even earlier that still produce paper in the traditional way. There was a chance to make comparisons between the Grand Union Canal and early industrialisation, and the beautiful Charante and craft production.

The mill at Fleurac is a working museum, demonstrating how paper used to be made whilst still producing high quality, craft paper. It is in a beautiful location by the river and recently money has been spent developing the landscape to enhance the sense of peace and timelessness.

In someway Fleurac is a bit to perfectly preserved, as if it is part of the heritage industry. The Verger mill, a little further along the Charente,  gives a greater sense of continuity, showing more signs of the lumps and bumps of age.  Paper has been made here since 1539 and it is still a business making facsimile 17th and 18th Century paper for the restoration of books prints and drawings. 

 

When thinking of this type of paper I think of watermarks and remember how I was fascinated by them as a kid. Firstly they were only in thick, good quality paper, something I rarely used and therefore thought a bit special. Secondly, and most importantly, you could only see them properly when you held them up to the light. They held a secret message, they were slightly mysterious, they were a hidden code.

Only later did I discover how they were made. In manufacture,the paper is pressed with a mark when still wet, When it dries that mark remains in its structure. I like the word because it precisely describes the process. It is a mark made in water – and how poetic is that idea?

By analogy you can extend it to any mark that is embedded when something is being formed. I think of dough-like infants being pressed by their experiences and then carrying that semi-invisible branding as they grow older and firmer. These things form you character. When you start any new venture, and are learning, you are still watery enough to be marked. With running I think of the early stages and a couple of things that hit me almost as revelations, which are still part of the fabric of me as a runner.

The first was the understanding that slowing down meant I could run further. This may sound stupidly self evident, but I had previously thought that proper running meant puffing hard and being uncomfortable. Only after I finding an easy pace did I discover the enjoyment in running and know that if I could run for 20 minutes I could also run for 30, then if 30 I could also run for 40, etc, etc. It is a matter of finding your own internal rhythm – your own watermark.

The second was the enjoyment of being outside as part of the landscape, feeling its changes and finding the places you like to be. This is often the canal and if anything runs consistently through my running it is the Grand Union – another watermark.

Photothon 23: If you build it

It is at this point that I start to question my thought processes. I actually ran here for the express purpose of taking a photo of a haystack (or hay wall if you prefer).

The photothon has had an interesting effect on my route-making. I now give it more thought and try to go to places that might have something to photograph or some attached story. In this case it is a very tiny story.

The previous evening we had been out and were driving back at about eleven, just after dark, when we saw a cluster of very bight lights ahead. They were not moving so they were not vehicles coming towards and anyway pattern was wrong. It was puzzling, we knew we were in the middle of nowhere and had no idea what it could be.

When we passed could see that they had been harvesting the fields and only just stopped. They had been working by the lights of their tractors and the large harvester. Now it was finished the whole group were relaxing and having a few beers after a long hard day.

For some reason I thought of two things almost simultaneously. The first Thomas Hardy and images of harvests in the nineteenth century. The second was a film of several years ago, 'Field of Dreams', where Kevin Costner built a baseball field on his farm. I just remembered the switching-on of floodlights in the middle of the countryside. This field glowed in the same way.

Anyway the inner voice that Kevin Costner followed said that 'If you build it he will come' – so I thought I'd better go back there.

But this was France and not Iowa or Wessex, discarded amid the clover I saw this packet of Gitanes

Photothon 22: In the shade

Run date 5 July

I wanted to give an idea of how quiet the running was. Clear skies, empty roads, peaceful villages. It is perfect country for putting in serious mileage, building up your strength and preparing for a long race.

With one proviso – you must either get up early or run late. On holiday running late is awkward because there are so many responsibilities related to eating, drinking and conversing. You therefore have to start early - and I was useless. Consistently I got up an hour later than I planned. Luckily the weather was a bit variable but on two days there was hot, hot heat and I am not good in the heat.

So on the run you look out for shady spots, and this is a very shady spot - but they do not last long. As my mind wandered I started making calculations, wondering if I wrung out all my clothes it would fill my water bottle or overflow it.

When you start thinking like that you know you are in trouble.

Jousting Boats and Sport

These are jousting boats.

I never knew such a sport existed, yet here it is in Cognac with a tournament of 8 boats and it is a very nice, relaxed affair. All the crews are having a great time, splashing about, winning some, losing others. There is a beer tent and a public address – so everything is as it should be.


The great thing about it is that it is fun and in the best sense it is amateur. You can see from the photo below that some of the rowing is, to say the least ragged. But somehow this is the whole point. And if it became too slick and professional it would probably become dull. As it is it is pure sport.


There are two types of sport. The first and the type that dominates far too much of the nations attention is professional sport, where the aim is absolute excellence. Everything that can be done to gain a victory is done and the sportsmen are identified from an early age, selected as being the best, then coached, trained, protected, and, mostly, paid extravagantly. These people are separate from us in so many ways, the only role we have is as spectator and supporter. We can look-on and applaud but don't know in our bones what it feels like to run so fast or hit a ball so well.

The second type of sport is truly amateur and is for everybody else. All of us who have other lives, other jobs, other responsibilities but who need to be physically active and participate in something despite not having any great talent. It is this sort of sport that is closest to my heart, and it allows me to call myself a runner. It is also helps you understand yourself better and gives you the perspective to recognise the distance between desires and achievements. It is good for your body and your mind.

Also, and this is most important, I reckon that most true sports are rooted somehow in the pub. I can imagine a bar session that had reached the stage of stupid ideas when someone said “ I bet we could joust with boats. They would then all join in and draw up the spec for the type of row boat, platform lance etc. until they had a silly but practicable plan. Well that's how I like to imagine it. (I would be really disappointed if the idea came out of a business meeting in the tourist office or from the PR department of one of the Cognac houses). It's also how I like to imagine the genesis of some of our odder running events. Surely you have to be a tiny bit tipsy to think that running between Birmingham and London, along the canal, is a good idea.

That's another characteristic of the second type of sport – it has elements of fantasy, imagination and fellowship. I don't see too much of those things in professional sport, it is all far too serious.

Photothon 21: village decoration

Run date: ! July

This comes from the small village of Massac and I don't really understand the picture. It is some sort of ancient press but what it pressed I know not. It will have had something to do with the work of the village in the past but is now used as decoration. That is all I can guess

In all the local villages there are such touches. They spend some of their local taxes to keep things looking bright. Round the corner from this press there is for example a big tub of flowers. Over the past decade the number of outsiders coming in and renovating properties which would otherwise have been abandoned has increased this tax take and the villages do look smarter.

In our village the equivalent picture is of the old, disused, pump, which has been given a new coat of paint and stands proud in all its maroonness.

Photothon 20: Open countryside

Run date 30 June

The rules of Photothon are that at the furthest point from the start I take a picture. There is a bit of latitude in this because I never know the exactly where this is (even my out and backs tend to have little loops and the odd diversion). Usually I find something and then declare it the furthest point. In this I am a bit like the Texas sharpshooter who shoots at the barn door and paints the target afterwards, but only a little bit.

I thought the first run might be a challenge because there was no way of fudging the fact that I would have to take a photograph in open, very open countryside. However, and please do not laugh at me when I say this, I found the agriculture and field pattern interesting.

There are areas of wheat, vines, corn, sunflowers, potatoes next to each other. It is the reverse of the monoculture which would have trampled similar land in the UK or America. Looking at this you can see something important in the way France has retained its food culture and the link between growing and eating. The Charante grows an incredible variety of fruit and vegetables, all available in the local markets. Iowa in comparison has some of the best agricultural land in the United States but effectively only grows corn and soya and so cannot provide a decent diet for its own population.

This photo is not however about crops it is about attention to the look of the landscape. Where there are no crops there are wild flowers. The verges are full of them and even fields,when they are being left fallow, are decorative. Here is a field of wild flowers abutting a field of wheat.

The run itself was quite quite tough and I should have acclimatised myself with a shorter route first. But hey ho I was enjoying myself and only realised the problem when it was too late.

The roads are quite exposed and straight, which makes them a little bit relentless. When I run at home there are always twists and changes to make the distance feel shorter; "oh I am here already" sort of thing. On a long straight road you tend to wonder when there is going to be a change. However the really hard part was the rolling nature of the land. Going out it was gently downhill but coming home was an incline that went on and on and on and on.

I consoled myself with the thought that it would do wonders for my endurance

Back Home

If ever there was a day to come back from a holiday it was yesterday. Rain, rain and more rain, all with an unremitting greyness. I had to try hard just to stop myself falling into a pitch-black pool of glumness. In France the weather although variable, had been warm. Some days had been blisteringly hot, others had been mild. There had been rain but it did not last and everyday had had some blue skies and lovely clear light – above all light.

But there is no use in moping - home is home and I am home.

I have come back from the Charente region, not far from Cognac where my sister and brother-in-law have a house in a small village. They bought as a wreck and have been renovating for the past five years. It is amazing how many English people have done the same. In our village there incomers are not only English there is for example a Belgium civil servant, who is the subject of a certain amount of envy as he has three months of holiday a year (something to do with his age and seniority). Any way it is a friendly community and when anyone arrives for their summer the first thing they do is walk around to see what has changed. They visit each other, just pop I for a chat and to compare progress on the latest projects. Shared enthusiasms are good.

(This after all is the purpose of these blogs. We share our experiences and thoughts, learn from each other, reinforce each other and thereby reassure ourselves we are not totally batty.)

The area itself is wonderfully rural. The landscape rolls, the soil is rich and the climate benign so that a wide range of crops are grown. Probably the most visually dominant are sunflowers and vines. We were a little early for the sunflowers this year. One or two were out but not whole fields. So I present you with a picture of a solitary flower. I know it's an image that has been done to death but I cannot help it - sunflowers always lift my spirits and in my mind I associate them with this place.

Over the next few days I will be posting more as I have to catch up on my photothon. I managed four runs, which is not too impressive, but rather carelessly I managed to injure my ankle -twice, I don't think it is serious,probably caused by running on little roads with a high camber, but I think somewhere there was a message telling me to ease off, go on visits, and eat and drink.

I did my best to heed that message.