What We Can See

"It is overcast this afternoon  and there is a fine, misty drizzle that feels fresh on my face. The still air amplifies the sound of water dripping on maple leaves. The leaves are still bright green, but will transform into a kaleidoscope of yellow, orange, red, salmon and purple in another week or two. The goldenrods along the dirt road are just starting to fade, and several species of wild aster are beginning to flower instead. I note the splashes of their lavender, purple, and blue flowers. There are usually bumble bees in these flowers, but today these cold-hardy bees remain torpid in their underground nests deep in the woods.
Watching a large orange and black monarch butterfly feeding at an aster, I wonder how much sugar it is getting from the nectar to fuel on this stop on its migration from Canada to Mexico. The butterflies like human ultramarathoners need regular refuelling stations. While it is warm and sunny, during the last couple of weeks, I've seen the monarchs floating by on lazy, soaring wing beats. These individuals are at least the third generation of those that left Central Mexico last spring to come north to breed. All of hem are now journeying to their communal wintering area in the cool mountains near Mexico City from where their ancestors had come. There they conserve their energy reserves through winter by literally putting themselves in refrigeration that slows their metabolic fires."

The extract is from the opening of a book called 'Why We Run' by Bernd Heinrich and describes the start of a run after a sedentary day. I quote it out of envy.

I wish I was a naturalist who could get all the juice from what I see: know the exact stages of the wildflowers and what they were, see passing animals and know their life cycle. But I am not. My eye for identification is pathetic and I have to rely on my wife to tell me which flower is which. She is not there on most of my runs. 

I do however have certain birds and animals that give me pleasure when I see them. Foremost amongst these are herons. They always lifts my spirits. I don't know why: probably something to do with the ungainly, boney shape that almost looks two dimensional. I doesn't matter. I know I like them and luckily they are a fairly common sight by the canal.

I saw this one yesterday. I was not running - but never mind; that is a mere detail.

Janathon 2012 Day 27: Hanging tyres

Janathon 2012 Day 27:Run 4 miles, Time - 48min, Weather - bright and clear

Enough of me wittering on about base training. Today is all about using your eyes.

Almost everyday I pass the skatepark and look to see if it is empty or full (early in the morning you can guarantee empty) or if there are any kids performing tricks - I like to watch stunts. My eyes are always focussed on the metal slopes and jumps and I see little else.

Today for the first time I looked up at the trees next to where the kids hang out (most BMX time seems to be spent hanging out). The bare branches are adorned with old inner tubes, tyres and trainers. How have I not noticed them before

We see so little of the world - just enough to make a coherent picture but certainly not everything. Even the familiar can still contain surprises

Blossom, Sheep and Being Back Outside

Sometimes writing these posts clarifies my mind. When I wrote about the gym being a fitness factory with an ethos of targets and attainments i.e. being like work, I realised how strongly I believe that treating exercise as an end in itself is wrong. It isn’t. It is a gateway to other deeper, more satisfying pleasures.

I do not run to get fit. I run because it opens my eyes, helps me think more clearly, enhances my sense of self and gives me a feeling of (quite unwarranted) satisfaction. Being fitter helps me run better and is therefore desirable but it is only a part of the experience. The ultimate aim is to unite physicality with imagination (without trying to sound too poncey and pretentious).

A lot of the time this does not happen because either one of the mind, body or surroundings is wrong. But sometimes it all comes together and it makes me feel like a new person (and believe me feeling like a new person is something I really appreciate). Knowing these moments happen keeps me going through the duller times.

Trying to rehabilitate an injury in a gym is one of those duller times and writing about it made me realise that spending too much time thinking about the state of my leg is one of the more futile uses of the brain. The body might be OK with endless indoor rehearsals but the mind will only be satisfied when it is outside, feeling the air, sensing the space, and looking around at the changing landscape. Only outside is there is a chance of rediscovering that feeling of connection, especially at this time of year when things change from day to day. Blossom comes and is then blown away, lambs grow at incredible speed and the trees become full and there are different shades of green.

I am not too bothered about how fast I am running or how far I go. I just happy that I am easing myself back and can bookend this post with two pictures from my last run

Childlike (or even childish) Delight

The last post was all about how you see things you are primed to see. Another small example is the way I unconsciously look-out for diggers or other engineering works on my runs – all because of Adele. Rather heroically she is preparing for the London Marathon by pushing a running buggy and keeping her son amused at the same time. Spotting diggers is obviously the thing to do as it is well known that kids love diggers. But what is my excuse?

This picture from my last run has no digger but is the result of engineering work. They are replacing some lock gates and have thus had to drain a section of the canal to enable them to do the work. As I have never seen the canal empty of water, I found it quite exciting – in a distinctly childish way. I was surprised at how shallow it is and it shows why, every so often, they will need diggers to remove silt. Also you can see more clearly the wear and tear of a couple of hundred years.

If I ever needed a reminder of what is good about running, this picture provides it. It shows me that no matter how often I run a route there is always something new to see and that looking more closely at something increases your understanding. It brings you closer to the landscape and whether you see interesting new things or not, just being out on a sunny day, by the water (well for most of the run) and under trees lifts the spirits.

Not Even The Centre Of My Own Universe

Last week the writer David Foster Wallace killed himself.

As part of a tribute to him the Guardian published a speech he gave to a graduating class at Kenyon College, Ohio. After talking about the need to look outside of yourself and pay attention to others, the conclusion is poignant.

I know that this stuff probably doesn't sound fun and breezy or grandly inspirational. What it is, so far as I can see, is the truth with a whole lot of rhetorical bullshit pared away. Obviously, you can think of it whatever you wish. But please don't dismiss it as some finger-wagging Dr Laura sermon. None of this is about morality, or religion, or dogma, or big fancy questions of life after death. The capital-T Truth is about life before death. It is about making it to 30, or maybe 50, without wanting to shoot yourself in the head.

He suffered from depression and did not make it to fifty.

I am fascinated by the theme of his talk – the idea of stepping outside of your own viewpoint, so that you are no longer the centre of the universe. I had my own moment of insight some years ago, in the most mundane of circumstances. I was shopping in Sainsbury’s, and instead of focusing on the bread I wanted, for an instant, I looked at all the other people buying. I then thought of how many loaves this one store would sell in a day, then how many would be sold by Sainsbury’s as a whole and then by all the supermarkets in the country. I then thought of all the shipping and organisation needed to get the right quantitys of this one product to where it was needed. I marvelled at the complexity of it all, the number of people involved and the information processing. Yet it was something I took for granted. For me it was a simple transaction – just me buying one loaf of bread.

I then realised that no action was 'just me'. Everything rested on a huge platform created by thousands, millions of others - not only that, there were thousands, millions of others wanting to do the same thing at the same time and that above everything else there was a fascinating network of activity.

Nevertheless most of the time I see the world as if I am the centre of the universe. However running plays about with this outlook. It might not stop me seeing myself as the centre but it does mess it up in pleasing ways.

On the one hand there is no other pastime that is so self-absorbed. We all meticulously log our runs, monitor progress, examine how our body feels and whether twinges are serious or trivial, and worry about nutrition. (The number of runners who don’t over think in this way must be very small). On the other hand the act of running empties you out. You loose large lumps of you normal concerns as physical activity takes over and your personality is stripped down to the act of moving. Unlike most other sports there is not a high level of skill, requiring constant concentration. You can allow you mind free play to wander about and in itself this provides a pleasant background burbling. However some of the time you think about nothing at all and these are the treasured moments because you have lost yourself.

You have lost the 'you' at the centre of the world trying to negotiate your way through a network of tasks and responsibilities. Running has given you a few moments of freedom from that burden and opened the world up so that you can see it slightly differently. However it does not take you to that next level of understanding others and seeing things from their point of view. When you meet dog owners with long extendable leads, who look on indulgently as their dogs runs at your ankles, or when you meet a group, taking up the whole path, who do not give you any passing room, you just want to shout ‘Get out of the way! Runner coming through’. At such moment you are only thinking of your own needs.