Spirit of the Marathon

This is a trailer for a film that looks like it could be good. It follows six people, ranging from top athlete Deena Kastor to a 70 year old running with his daughter, as they tackle the Chicago Marathon.

The clip opens with a Joe Henderson saying "I think we were made to run, we have these long legs for a reason". Damn, and here am I with short legs.

Elasticity

I might have mentioned before that I have a lot of admiration for Windsurfin' Susie and the dedicated, rational approach she has to running. She not only studies the physiology of running, she puts theory into practice and then passes on what she has learnt to others. She, and those like her, are the backbone of the sport in this country.

Her latest post is a clear exposition of why running fast is not the best training if you are planning to run long. I'm sure she is right with the underlying message of keeping your goal in mind and being specific in your training. I read it soon after I had posted about my current regime, which involves fairly short bursts of faster running amid other exercises for general strength and flexibility - a completely different approach. So How can I hold onto this this contradiction, i.e. believing Susie is right, yet doing the opposite?

Well actually it is quite easy - because there is no contradiction. There is a wonderful variety of reasons for running and a whole range of aspirations. Susie is a serious athlete, with a target, which I am sure she will attain, of running a 3 hours 15 minute marathon. My current aim is more vague and subjective (and is probably totally unrealistic given my age) and so I have a different plan.

It became clear to me, as these things sometimes do, when looking at a woman. I was watching some sort of aerobic, kickboxing, dance, exercise class, which involved rather complicated moves to music. My attention was caught by someone who could not get the sequence quite right. There was a bounce and elasticity to her movement and she could do all the components of the routine with ease, but she messed up the timings and because of that she was laughing and exercising. Somehow she just seemed full of life.

I thought about my running and how I felt when I was doing it and realised that although it gave me a sense of contentment and sparked all sorts of thoughts and feelings, the actual movement felt a little limited - a bit ploddy, a bit like always going along a line. There was no sense of flexibility and elasticity. In other words, to try to regain that sense of aliveness, I had to try to put more snap into what I was doing and try to exercise the whole body.

So here I am, concentrating more on form than distance, trying to run with a higher cadence with more spring, working the core to improve posture and trying to stretch out some of those gnarled muscles. Part of me thinks I am being a little ridiculous because I will never recapture the elasticity of youth but as I am writing this I am sitting up straighter and in some small way that might show that something is working.

Transmitting an Enthusiasm

The best teaching works by passing on an enthusiasm for the subject - showing that it is alive. That's why I like Beanz's latest post.

I was listening to a radio programme on fanzines where there was a nice example of how this can happen in an informal way. Dave Haslam described how he produced a small fanzine called 'Debris', which he used to sell to people queuing to get into gigs. In the mid Eighties Raymond Carver made his first visit to the UK where there was so little interest he was only interviewed by three people: someone from the Daily Telegraph, the Times and Dave Haslam (hard though this is to believe). When he was selling the issue of Debris with the Carver interview (which can be read here) someone asked him what he meant by including an article about a writer. "Read it and see what you think" was the reply. The next time he was selling the magazine the same person made a point of coming up to say how good the article was and show him the T-shirt he was wearing, which had a picture of Raymond Carver's on it. In other words Carver was his new passion. Dave Haslam thinks this is one of his finest achievements.

With running, if we can pass on our enthusiasm in the same way then we have similarly done something good. In my family my wife runs as does my sister and brother-in-law. I take no direct credit for this but my evident enjoyment of the feeling you get from running might have helped.

For Beanz, and all the other good teachers out there I will pass on this quote from John Ruskin:

There is no wealth but life. Life, including all its powers of love, of joy, and of admiration. That country is the richest which nourishes the greatest numbers of noble and happy human beings; that man is richest, who, having perfected the functions of his own life to the utmost, has also the widest helpful influence, both personal, and by means of his possessions, over the lives of others.

Unto This Last essay IV, paragraph 77 (1860)

Base Camp

By accident rather than design my current training plan might have some sort of basis in theory, as it seems to have some similarity to 'reverse periodisation'. Amazing - it only goes to show that there is a concept and name for everything and that most things have been tried at sometime. For me concentrating on gym work, trying to build up strength and leg speed is not just a soft way of keeping out of the of grey, cold, wet, windy weather - oh no it is an bona fide training technique!

I typed the phrase into Google and most of the reference came from triathlon. Quite a nice post is this from The Triathlon Book. I also found out that it is common in cycling and neither Greg Lamond or Lance Armstrong believed in bashing out the long miles in winter (probably the only thing they do agree on). However, for me, that is purely coincidental; my plan is based on observing my running and the need to try something different.

I am convinced that a large part of running is mental i.e. based on an internal sense of what you can and cannot do. There is an in-built sense of self-preservation linked to a voice wanting you to ease back, keep comfortable, keep something in reserve. This means there is an internal feel for a comfortable pace dictated both by the body's capacity and an idea of the body's capacity. The purpose of training is not only to develop muscle, sinew, heart and lungs but also extending the internal model of what you can do. For me that has half worked. I have confidence in the ability to keep going but my pattern of mostly running easy miles has reinforced my comfort zone rather than stretching it. My internal rhythm running rhythm is now calibrated at a fairly slow leg turnover.

Something needs to be done to shake this up. My plan is thus to recalibrate my sense of cadence before gradually extend distance. This is combined with the idea of improving general strength, especially of the core and shoulders, which will help the maintenance of good running posture for longer. Also I read somewhere about the need for more resistance exercise as you get older to ameliorate the natural wasting of muscles - so that is what I am trying to do.

So far this month I have been to the gym 5 times a week, alternating cv and strength days. I have not run any long sessions on the treadmill (I don't know why but I find that mentally quite hard), it has been fairly short bursts at a pace that feels slightly uncomfortable. I have also used the bikes at a cadence of 90 to try to make that rhythm feel normal.

I do not know whether this is a good plan or not - if I run better than last year it is good, if I don't it is not. I just tend to think of it as base training - i.e. building a base of general strength and fitness.

The Begining of the Year

It is odd but I never think of the New Year beginning on the 1st of January; I’m more in tune with the 12 Days of Christmas. On Sunday the decorations were taken down and everything returned to what passes for normal.

So my resolutions have begun – well not exactly resolutions, more guidelines and plans. My wife and I had one of our normal coffee house meetings to work out what needed doing over the next year (basically all the stuff we thought of last year but did not get round to), and there was something reassuring about this beginning-of-the-year ritual as there are always things we didn’t do last year.

If I am honest there is only one resolution each year and it is always the same: to keep on going, keep on trying. Everything else is orientation.

The running/fitness plans (i.e. the subject of this blog) are divided into two parts: exercise and food. All I can say is that I am three days in and that so far so good.

For exercise I am keeping to my plan of trying top build up general strength and fitness, whilst running for short distances at a higher speed. We will just have to see how this works out as it is part of a long term plan.

The food part is very simple: eat only at meal times, have three meals a day and try to eat as little processed food as possible and eat more slowly and savour the flavours. That’s all there is: eat real food but restrict the quantity. (The Guardian managed two whole articles from a book that said just that here and here). I have always wondered how people manage to write so much about diet when it is mainly a matter of eating your greens.

There again you could say that about running - it is just one foot in front of another, endlessly. But I look at this blog and realise that somehow I have managed to witter on about it for three years – so perhaps it is possible to find ways to talk about a simple basic truth.

The New year and Time for a Change

Now is the time to take stock and make plans for the coming year. I like sitting here on a grey winters afternoon, casting my mind forward, imagining the sun and longer days and things I want to achieve.

Following-on from my last post - time really is a gift.

I have been made redundant from work and I must admit that I am not at all unhappy. My lifestyle used to be stupidly wearying, as my typical day was to leave at 6.30 and come home at 7.30. It was grinding and dull and during the week there was time for little else. My whole being yearned for a break and now it has got one - so I will be taking a sabbatical for a few months. Who knows what will happen after that.

As for running, which is after all the purpose of this blog, it is all good and I can start to think long term and aim for a certain amount of consistency.

The last two months of 2007 were stressful and I managed to combine little exercise with eating too much, so my fitness level has taken a dive. No matter - even more it feels as if I am making a fresh start.

I am thus going back to base to build up my general strength and fitness. This is the reverse of base training, which involves lots and lots of easy miles. It is a matter of going to the gym - doing speed work on the treadmill and using the machines to build up my core muscles. A couple of months of this, plus a planned gradual weight loss, should put me in good shape to start building up the mileage for a marathon later in the year.

I have always had the attitude that there are no training runs, i.e. I run for the pleasure of each run, not as a means to an end. That remains, but there is nothing to stop me training for running and then following a schedule. I am quite excited by the idea of trying to improve.

To everyone who reads this I hope you are also excited by the prospect of the New Year and that your plans are fulfilled. May you all have good luck.

Time is a Gift

I found this a quite inspiring conversation:

The son of a long standing family friend was describing how he had moved from fine art to book conservation. In his graduation show he printed a dissertation about the influence of Japan on American artists as Japanese book, with traditional paper and binding. He also produced other books containing photographs, all bound in a similar way. These books were then displayed in an installation of a print works. For him the interest was in submerging himself in a traditional craft and learning how to make something carefully, accurately, and beautifully. He enjoyed the way that people instinctively reacted to and appreciated something well-made. He felt these objects communicated more than his abstract works.

I asked how this gelled with the attitude of his lecturers with their romantic idea of personal expression and individuality. By focussing on skill and producing an object in a traditional way, he was challenging this. He said that one of his lecturers had described him as reactionary but he never sought to challenge their beliefs and was always respectful and that the photographs in the books were within their tradition. Paradoxically, by being self effacing he became more of his own man. After the show a gallery approached and said that they like his work but he knew that he did not want the life of an artist and gave all of his books away. He was just grateful for being given the time and support to develop his skill.

I love the idea of craftsmanship, when something comes together well and with precision and have previously posted on trying to work out the craft in running. I don’t know if there is any, but there is a similarity of trying to do something as well as possible and continually working at it. You loose yourself in the task and in so doing express your personality more fully.

However in the conversation I was really struck by the idea of time being a gift and that for us soft-core runners there is all the time in the world. It need not be a constraint. There is no need to try an force a spring marathon if you do not feel ready. There is the time to progress as slowly as you want, try base training or any other approach, or work on your technique. You can go backwards to go forwards. You can afford to have a long term objective.

Yes time is a gift.

Stairway to the Serpies

The big cultural event of the week has been the Led Zeppelin concert. So how can I link that to running? Well actually quite easily. I don't need the full six degrees of separation just a memory from 40 years ago.

The first thing is that a huge part of my imaginative identity at that time was bound up with music. It was not only a matter of listening there were a whole range of meanings and social signifiers. Authenticity, invention, attitude, edge, were the things that mattered and reading about them was an important way of augmenting knowledge of this (never mind Frank Zappa's jibe that writing about music is like dancing about architecture).

The second thing is that I have been reading the Guardian since the age of 16 and can remember any number of their writers. One of them was Geoffrey Cannon who, amongst other things, wrote about rock music. He reviewed the first big concert of Led Zeppelin at the Albert Hall (they were always a band that started at the top) and incidentally was not overly impressed, recognising the visceral power but concluding with the line that they were 'plastic fantastic'. I don't know why I remember that but I do.

He is the link with running because he moved from music to health and especially diet. He also ran and his lasting legacy is the founding of the Serpies. To me this is a huge thing.

The following is a quotation from a speech that was published in Public Health Nutrition: 6(4), June 2003, 326–328.

My best deed in those days was to found the Serpentine
Running Club, which celebrated its first 20 years with 700
members in May last year, whose details are on info@
serpentine.org.uk; its members include world champions,
but the club remains dedicated to the absolute beginner.
Every time I come to London and stagger round
Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park, I look at the
unofficial paths parallel to the tarmac, made by the
incessant tread of countless thousands of runners. Those
paths did not exist before the days of the Serpies, and I feel
proud. However, jogging goes back to the 1960s, long
before anybody dreamed that most able-bodied citizens
could run a marathon. My own inspiration was Norman
Harris, founder of the Sunday Times National Fun Run in
the late 1970s. Here is the story of the first-ever jogging
club, and the invention of the word ‘jogger’.
Norman’s inspiration was his fellow New Zealander
Arthur Lydiard, the fabled coach of Murray Halberg and
Peter Snell16, who, as Norman explained to me (Harris N,
personal communication) in 1962, “decided to start an
informal club of former runners, who would amble a few
miles on a Sunday morning and then maybe have a picnic.
As the then New Zealand Herald athletics writer, I was
asked to put a piece in the paper. They said the guys
would just be jogging, and I remember saying: ‘So what
will you call it – the Auckland Joggers Club?’ There was a
bit of a giggle. But the name stuck. So I think I invented not
the verb ‘to jog’, but the noun ‘jogger’!”
Bear Arthur Lydiard and Norman Harris in mind next
time you go for a jog. Remember too, with due deference
to Gunnar Blix17, Per-Olof Astrand18 and the other Nordic
pioneers, that it was the citizens’ running movement of the
1970s and 1980s that supplied the cohorts of tens of
thousands of enthusiastic volunteers for the experiments
of exercise physiologists that have now proved beyond
reasonable doubt that regular physical activity prevents
chronic diseases. With no funding from USAID, too!
Before jogging there were two separated populations, of
elite athletes and the sedentary masses; so researchers
could not be sure of the meaning of moving from being fat
to being fit. Now we all know.
Arthur Lydiard and Norman Harris began the movement
that led to the launch of Agita Mundo onWorld Health Day
in Sa˜o Paulo in April 2002 and the new WHO global
strategy. They are the founders of a global grassroots
movement that has improved the quality of life of millions
of people. Salutations to them. Raise your glasses, please,
filled neither with Coca-Cola, nor cachac¸a nor calvados.
Sau´de! Good health!

Victorian Virtues

Yesterday there was a Channel 4 programme on John Ruskin. I was really pleased about this and hope there will be some revival in interest in his work.

I previously mentioned that my favourite house in England is Brantwood, which used to be the home of John Ruskin. Partly this is because of the location (the view overlooking Coniston Water is sublime) but more importantly it is a celebration of the ideas of one of the great Victorian thinkers.

I can remember being told, in a school lesson 40 years ago, that the bookshelf of any educated artisan of the period would contain works by John Ruskin and Thomas Carlyle. It was a strange throw away remark, just one sentence when a lesson went off-topic, but it has stayed with me all this time. Somehow it snagged a number of romantic ideas about idealism and seriousness, the way this could be embraced through all levels of society, and faith in the possibility of change, so that the quality of life could be improved for all (i.e. a better society was possible).

When I look out from his study, over the Water, to see the fells change colour and shape with changes in the light, my appreciation is heightened by all my internal associations. One of his great ideas was that you should learn through the close and direct observation of nature. But there is more to it than just standing and staring.

Strangely this brings me back to running and the justifications I make to myself for spending time on an activity where my only realistic aspiration is to be mediocre. Part of the fascination is a slightly Ruskinian idea of exertion making you feel part of the landscape - part of nature. It happens in two ways: you can observe quite closely and notice things that might otherwise have passed you by; also you are very aware of the workings of your body. External and internal nature. The balance varies with different types of run. When you are slow and easy there is more chance to look at the landscape, more a sense of being at peace with it. When it is more of a struggle you look inward and can notice nothing about you surroundings.

Today, for me, it was all inward looking. Having had a long break, eating too much and doing little exercise I have to go back to the start and build back up. In the mean time it feels like hard work. I will just have to content myself with the idea that hard work is also a Victorian virtue.

Empty Phrases

Oh how I hate management bollocks. It is an incubus that ravages our language, inhibiting thought and shriveling the imagination. The other day I had to produce a document with the word ‘synergies’ in it. I had no choice – I was presented a template for a marketing sheet and I had to use it as a heading. Ha I thought, as I wrote my empty phrases, what can you expect from a company that is proud of its new ‘transactional input/output centre’ (I think it’s a fancy warehouse but I am not 100% sure).

A close relative is the company slogan. Mostly they are incredibly smug, as if they are trying to show they are clever. However when I see a delivery van with the slogan “Delivering Quality” I groan. My favourite might be Lockheed Martin (who produce military equipment, which they sell around the world) with their “We never forget who we’re working for”. It sounds scary and I know they are not working for me. Another arms manufacture, our own BAE, is obviously staffed by idealistic hippies because they are “Innovating for a safer world”. That is really reassuring.

I like it when a slogan has real meaning, “Never knowingly undersold” would be a good example. I also like the lineage, as a slogan is no more than the motto on a coat of arms.

I thought about this today because the guardian carried a picture of Mark Lewis Francis in his Birchfield Harriers vest. Their crest carries the motto ‘Fleet and Free’. I did not feel at all cynical or grumpy when I noticed it, instead I thought it a wonderfully neat encapsulation of what you can find in running (providing, of course, that fleet is used in a relative sense).

You see a motto or a slogan can be good. It does not have to be bollocks.

I was pleased the example I saw came from running.

For Everything There is a Season

I have not posted for a month for the simple reason that I have not run for a month. Partly this was illness - a marathon is no cure for infection and for two weeks after the race I felt really rough with coughing, snuffling and general weariness. Since then I have felt the need for a fallow period - as if my body said that it wanted some comfort and cosseting, rest and refuelling. I therefore decided to treat November as off-season. Whether this is a good or a bad thing I do not know - I will probably find out when I start running again and find out how much I need to build back up.

I hope however the rest will help this ageing body rebuild and repair niggles and strains. I am very conscious that my body lacks the recovery it used to have. Injuries go on for longer and anything to do with ligaments or tendons take forever. So a month out might sort that groin twinge and an ache in the right buttock - who knows. Both of them were/are nothing serious, just a minor discomforts, but a clean sheet would be nice.

The other reason for a break is the idea of periodisation - having some sort of seasonal rhythm of build and release - so that things are not always at the same level of intensity. However it means more than just having the occasional break. I will have to sit down and work out a plan with different patterns of activity.

I am convinced that for the past couple of years I have not been varying things enough. It is too comfortable to run at a an easy pace. Although this is good and gives the bulk of the physical and imaginative nourishment of running it is one dimensional and does not help with elasticity, agility, balance or upper-body muscle tone. So it is time for a rethink.

At the moment I haven't quite thunk those thoughts. The plan at the moment is a bit vague. December will be an easing back in month - gentle steady, much as before. The new year will be when the experimentation starts. Certainly it will involve more cycling, some weights and an attempt to make "speed" sessions mean more than just a little bit faster than normal. But at the moment I know no more.

I need to do some reading to see if I an pick up any ideas and rediscover the attitude of just trying things. When George Sheehan said that 'you are an experiment of one' the important word was experiment. I think that recently I may have lost sight of that.

Bugger Marathons

…well that was what I was thinking as I trudged my way through some industrial wasteland on the outskirts of Amsterdam. 'This is not fun', 'I am not enjoying this','This is not making me a better person', 'I just it to finish', 'I am not learning anything about myself', were the thought fragments. I actually did not mind the bleak scenery because I had retreated so completely inside myself I was paying little attention to the outside world. I was worn out and could run no further. Several times I tried to get going again but it quickly fizzled and all I could hope for was to complete the distance by walking.

Damn - it wasn't meant to be like this. The plan was to run fairly steadily for 42k and feel some warm glow of satisfaction but it is amazing how plans can unravel.

There were two main problems. The first was that I caught a cold a few days before the race and on Friday, as I coughed and spluttered, I wondered if it was sensible to start. But my record of not starting marathons weighs very heavy and I knew that I had to give it a go as long as the infection did not reach my chest. So off I went and Saturday was a good day and I felt quite a lot better with little coughing; everything now seemed clear, I would run. However I then stumbled into the second problem - my own stupidity. Instead of making allowances for the for the fact that the virus was still floating about and was probably not up to full strength, I just ran to my original plan.

Everything was fine in the beginning and I got to half way in 2' 05, which there or there abouts, but I knew I had been slowing and that my strength was ebbing away. I was like the man falling from a skyscraper who passes the 14 floor shouting OK so far. After 29k it was only about survival and getting to the end, which I did in a smidgen under 5 hours. For the last quarter of the race I felt mixture frustration, impotent rage, resignation and embarassment.

The odd thing was that when I crossed the line I did not feel down, decide I was useless and generally beat myself up. No I actually felt quite proud that I had finished and good that I had done it , even if it did go wrong. Whatever the time I had done it.

The thing is that it had been part of a good weekend. I really enjoy the atmosphere of Amsterdam and it was good to meet both Beanz and Womble for lunch in one of the grand cafes. The hotel was fine and in a good location and the meal after on Sunday night was excellent. On Monday we visited the Van Gogh Museum and saw a wonderful exhibition about Barcelona 1900, which included a couple of amazingly detailed architectural models, some charming early Picassos, a haunting portrait of Eric Satie in his bare apartment and some film of the docks and the streets.

So apart from 13k everything was just dandy. Even that 13k was survivable and there is always another day to get them right.

Sometime I will get them right!

Running with an iPod

I don’t normally run with my iPod as I like feeling connected with the landscape and being able to let my mind wander freely. However at the moment I am thinking about next week and worrying about lasting the distance. Perhaps listening to music in the last 6 miles would be a helpful distraction.

Today I experimented to see if that would work - and it was pretty much a failure. I didn’t sense my body properly and in a strange way felt a little off balance. I couldn’t hear the footfall and felt isolated from my surroundings. In addition the cable flapping around and the earbuds slipping were a constant irritation. In other words I just did not enjoy the run very much even though it was a perfectly still day and the temperature was just right.

Ah well another idea bites the dust.

However I really enjoyed the music in the open air, amongst the trees and woodland paths and it was particularly enjoyable when doing my stretches. That might have been a useful discovery because I maintained the stretch for longer and more easily than usual.

PS

When running I put it on shuffle play (not a feature I use that much). During the run 17 tracks were played but a couple of artists had more than one song i.e they were over represented. I remember reading articles about people who used shuffle a lot and were convinced that their iPods had favourites (or there was an Apple conspiracy to favour certain artists). Apple responded at first by saying that the order was totally random, which I’m sure was true because truly random events are likely to have clusters. However they did not hold fast to the purist line and soon altered the program to make it seem more random.

I like this as a small example of how we all like to look for patterns and how difficult it is to identify what is random.

Amsterdam

This was never designed to be a training blog. All I ever hoped to do was ramble-on about things and then make some connection with running (however tenuous the link might be). There have thus been very few clues to my gradual increase in mileage over the past three months. It has been nothing too spectacular and has peaked at about 35 miles per week. But if Womble can run back to back marathons on that sort of mileage I don’t see why I should not attempt just one.

So Amsterdam it is.

I have been keeping quiet about this because I have a truly lousy record of actually running these races. Out of the four I have attempted I have only finished one (the first). Two I failed to start because of injury or illness and in the final one I scared myself witless by having a heart rate that went out of control.

But there are now only a couple of weeks to go and apart from the paranoia of everybody around me having colds and coughs, I am fairly confident of being there. Although I am looking forward to it I am also a little apprehensive - I have no idea what it will be like.

So early on the Saturday morning we will be flying out from Luton and on Monday we return. We will also try not to feel guilty about burning up our carbon allowance on this indulgence.

Ritual

It is first thing in the morning and I am in Café Nero, drinking a coffee before work - just reading the paper and watching the world go by. A man about 30 years old comes by with a large mug of coffee, which he places on the table, before carefully removing a dirty cup to another table. He then looks at the arrangement of the chairs and moves one a little forward and the other to the side so they equidistant from the table and symmetrical. He then takes another chair to make a triangle around the small round table, a few more minor readjustments and then he is satisfied. He now disappears and returns with a paper napkin and a handful of sugar bags. He thoroughly wipes the table and places the used napkin in the dirty cup on the other table. Still standing, he starts to add sugar to his coffee. The little bag is held between thumb and forefinger at the corner and given two shakes. The corner is ripped off and the sugar poured out. Eight and a half bags of sugar are added before the coffee is stirred. He then goes off again and gets a paper, arranges things on the table and finally sits down. There is an adjustment of the zip of his jacket and his posture before finally he takes his first sip from the mug.

Everything is done with deliberation and I wonder if the first sip is accompanied with that inward sigh that says ‘ahh just right!’ or ‘that’s better’. I compare it with my behaviour – where all I did was brush the old cup to the other side of table before sitting down and drinking, without much thought of what I was doing.

I think of Kieren’s report of the Berlin Marathon, where he mentions sharing a flat with other runners and finding out about their pre-race rituals. Again I think about what I do and can think on no ritualised behaviour. When I run, all I try to do is remember everything I need and get out in one piece – there is no calm order.

Perhaps I need to give everything more focussed attention. Ceremony can be useful – it fixes an event, gives it status and puts you in the right frame of mind.

I am reminded of something from a radio programme of 35 years ago (it could have been ‘From our Own Correspondent’), when the reporter talked of meeting some native Americans who used tobacco in their ceremonies. He asked what they thought of the way tobacco was used by westerners and they replied it was bad because it was not treated with enough respect.

This has stayed with me because it makes me think of how full attention can change the nature of a thing – give it a different cultural meaning.

In Café Nero the man is certainly giving his coffee full attention. Perhaps it is a valuable ceremony that enhances his pleasure. On the other hand he could just have a compulsive obsessive personality.

Rediscovering Childhood and John Ruskin

I have recently come back from a weeks holiday in the Lake District. It rained most of the time and I did not do quite as much running as intended - but that did not matter. Being by waters, surrounded by fells, is enough to lift the spirits. We were in Grasmere, the heart of the romantic lakes, and everything felt cleaner and fresher. Pleasure came from just being outdoors and active - even if it was wet.

I did sufficient running, and even managed to fit in a long run, but that is not the point. For a running blog I have a rather a subversive message - "sometimes you do not need to run". Sometimes it is better to go searching for waterfalls and recover the sense of surprise you had as a nine year old city boy who saw mountains and fast running streams for the first time; who wandered over the open landscape to find a river, hidden by trees, and watched in wonder as your father skimmed stones on the water, whilst you could only make them sink with a great plop.

I don't really know the full reasons for spending so much of my time running. Part of it could be some futile attempt to recapture a little of the feelings I had when younger - when I could run, cycle or move with ease, without thinking. I know that all my effort really achieves is an understanding of how much stiffer I am and how much longer it takes to recover but all the same there is a linger sense of continuity.

However I can make that link far more directly by visiting places and seeing again the sights with fresh eyes, skipping around without any great purpose. In other words just being on holiday, or finding some other way to free up my thinking.

Running is good but there are other things as well.

During the week we also visited one of my favourite houses in England - Brantwood. It was the home of John Ruskin and displays the range and depth of his work as well as where he lived and worked. The views over Coniston Water are stunning and endlessly change with the weather and just add to the sense of contemplation.

I am always in awe of the achievements of Ruskin, the scope of his ideas and how many of them still seem current. His views had tremendous sway on the public opinion, with his books, with those of Thomas Carlyle, forming part of the library of people of all social classes. Try as I might I cannot think of any present day figure of comparable stature.

I look at Ruskin's study, his collected works and the engagement in important issues and think -

Running is good but there are other things as well.

However I then look at the pictures of Ruskin in his later years and see a shell of a man beset by health problems. I then think -

Running is good it helps with all of those other things.

If Your Run Was A Piece Of Music, What Would It Be?

A recent post was prompted by the death of Paul Rutherford. In the past couple of weeks there have been two more deaths to add to the list: Joe Zawinul and Mike Osborne. Of the two Joe Zawinul is the great name. Weather Report is a high cultural peak, which still sounds fresh and inventive, and the Miles Davis record 'In a Silent Way' (the title track of which is a Zawinul composition) is one of my all time favourites. However I never saw him live. Mike Osborne on the other hand played with people I loved to see (Mike Westbrook and Chris McGregor). When I heard of his death I could see him standing there, a bear of a man, making the alto seem very tiny, blowing with intensity and passion.

The contrast then is between someone who has been the background sound of chunks of my life and someone of whom I have a vivid memory. In running terms it is the contrast of a run in Ashridge (beauty with ever changing views and surprises such as glimpses of deer. Always there, always different.) and the sharp memories from a race (when there is either a higher feeling of satisfaction or deeper level of disappointment). I don't enter many races, so each of them tends to be clear in my mind. Some of the best pictures come from 'A Run Around Wyre Forest' - a rather lovely half marathon with lots of greenery and a wicked little uphill finish. So that can be Mike Osborne.

Ashridge can be Joe Zawinul and just thinking of that way adds an extra dimension to it. You are running through a wood of beech and oak and when you look ahead you see a series of layers. That is very much like Weather Report (the arrangement of Birdland for example is like an intricate mesh).

Writing this piece has been the first time I have thought of comparing runs to pieces of music. I rather like the idea - it is playful, and part of soft core running is play.

Finding Time

Although I know that consistency is the biggest virtue for a runner, I have always struggled with mid-week runs and have never been able to work out the ideal time.

Early morning is useless as I already get up early enough just to get to work.
I gave up running at lunch time because I did not like the changing and the drying, the bolting of food and water, and limitations in the type of runs that could be done.
The most time-efficient method is to run as part of a commute, but I do not like running with a rucksack as I feel unbalanced and find myself always adjusting the strapping.

The only answer is to run in the evening, which although quite good, requires iron discipline - something for which I am not renowned. When I get back home I feel a bit hungry and a bit drained. The tiredness is mostly mental but the temptation to merely rest and eat is huge. Every time I get out of the door part of me is saying it would just be so much more pleasant to do nothing. That siren voice is still singing as I walk the pre-run walk and through the first few steps of the easy jog. Then something strange seems to happen as the body starts to loosen up - I begin to feel easier in myself. When I have found a rhythm everything feels calmer and I can not only feel happy that I am out, I can feel slightly smug that I have shown resolve.

"One run at a time" I say to myself as if I was some recovering alcoholic. Instead of it being a day at a time, the unit is a week. Each sunday I decide on a quota of runs for the next seven days and during the week I shuffle them according to circumstances. That is all - it is not complicated. Having a few things that can be rearranged or reordered seems to make all the difference.

It is easier in the summer time of course. Wet, dark, cold evenings make overcoming the inertia almost impossible and winter consistency is something I have never mastered. But I should not worry about that now. The whole idea is only to think of one run at a time.

Just a Run - Nothing Special

I am writing this in that time of post-run relaxation, when the mind is empty. Nothing is in focus and everything feels pleasantly hazy. There is nothing in particular that I want to say – no point to make. All I have are the impressions from the run idly playing in my mind.

First there was the weather, absolutely perfect, a bit overcast so that it was not too hot but still pleasant and summery. This makes such a huge difference. Last week it was hot and I really felt it and slowed down. Today everything was easier.

Then there were all the people strolling about, at ease and socialising. The general sense of recreation is one of the reasons I like running by the canal. At Berkhamsted there are three pubs in quick succession. People are on the benches looking at the water, sipping their beer. The beer looks tempting but I am running and cannot be distracted (there’s focus for you). I can only let my mind wander and think of the pub as a social institution, think of the longboats and their gentle progress between pubs and thinking that I must try that for a holiday sometime.

Although I like people around too many causes problems. Sometimes I think there is a growing lack of spatial awareness – everyone so much in their own world that they are unaware of how they affect others around them. A small example: a mother has parked her pushchair on the path, facing the water so that the child can throw bread for the ducks. That is great and it is a good thing to do. However she parked it right in front of a bench, thereby making a narrow an awkward gap to negotiate and I had to slow right down – a couple of yards further on there would have been no problem as I could easily have detoured on the grass.

Later on I ran up behind a group of three middle-aged people, side by side, taking all the available space. The man was aware of my coming and made a bit of space for me to run through. However the two women were completely unaware until I was right by them. One of them made a little panicky jump and was all of a flutter. She then made some remark about me needing a bell. This amused me – firstly the thought that my pace was anywhere near the speed of a bicycle was gross flattery. Secondly for all my puffing and pounding I had somehow approached unnoticed – I must have been running more gracefully than I thought (if only!).

With some people greetings are exchanged because we are very briefly sharing the same space and it is sociable but others want to make no contact. There was one woman who moved out the way excessively when I passed. This happened fairly near my turn around point and so I passed her again but this time face-to-face. She turned away to look at the hedgerow and avoid any chance of eye contact. I wondered about the story behind such nervousness, such closed-offness.

Contrasting with that isolation was the community of the river. A rather fine barge, originally from the port of Rotterdam (I know this because it was embossed on the hull) was moored whilst the owner was doing some work on the cabin. Other boat owners wandered over and started conversations about boats, comparing activity, that sort of thing. As I went past I heard that Rotterdam owner used to be an engineer. That’s all i heard but it's enough to get you thinking about interests aptitudes and life choice.

No thought was held for any great length of time. They flitted and passed, easily, without consequence - a bit like the running itself. It was just one of those days where things felt relaxed.

No Breeding Whatsoever

This is not genteel. It is not decorous. It is not something any well-bred person should do but … this is running and physical exertion can play havoc with good manners. I will therefore admit that I have occasionally been known to spit if things get a bit phlegmy (though in my defence I will say that I always try to do this discretely amongst the wilderness that grows beside the footpaths).

However sometimes you just cannot help yourself. Towards the end of Saturday’s long run, when I was feeling tired and my mouth was hanging open, a big furry fly flew right into it. I immediately spat it out with great force and a huge hawking noise. Unfortunately I was just behind a lady enjoying a gentle stroll along the canal, who turned round to give me a look of extreme distaste. Understandable - I would probably have done something similar if the positions had been reversed.

I wanted to say it was a fly- but said nothing. I was actually totally preoccupied firstly by thinking “thank god it wasn’t a wasp” and then imagining what would have happened if it had been a wasp that stung either my tongue or the inside my mouth.

Dangerous lark running - I’m sure there must be some health and safety directive that tells us to breathe through our nose and only run with our mouths shut!