Wednesday, 1 February 2012

Running can be a right pain in the arse.

Sometimes, you just don't feel like it. It's sub-zero outside, it's still dark. You're absolutely knackered from the night before. The week before. The year. You have the shits. A hangover. Both. You just don't want to go.

But you do anyway.

I haven't been enjoying my running so much recently, partly because I've been so fucking tired. Oh, and I got another cold last week, which really didn't help. I was working in London, and when you combine that unique 'I'm at an exhibition' tiredness with not sleeping well because my fluffy bunnikins* was tucked up in bed back in sunny Ludlow. it was a fucking tiring week. Add to that a few beers on a couple of nights, then waking up with a shitty cold first day of the exhibition, and you're really fucked.

Still recovering, but I've been for three runs in three days this week. I feel okay. Not great, but okay. Not been going far, just been trying to regain momentum, which seems more and more important to me.

Running is different for all of us. We all take something unique to us out of it, and because we are not stationary as people, because our Self is in a constant (hopefully) evolution, what it is to us changes too. So when it's bad, the bad is unique to us in how it affects us, though the basics are much the same ("I really do not want to get out of bed. It's 5:20am and it's -3** out there. Fuck it. I'll walk the bastard marathon. That'll learn you, Winter!").

The momentum issue - of getting out as frequently as I can - seems to be vital to me, and how my brain works. It needs to be a habit, something I do almost every morning. In December, I could not sleep past 6am because I was used to being out; January saw me struggle to get up by 7am. What changed? Two colds!


This isn't leading up to some spanky conclusion, I'm just rambling. I may ramble about something else soon.

RKS Plumbing in Ludlow? Bunch of fucking robdogs.


There's a part of Born To Run - two parts, actually - that bother me in a big way. The first is ragging on Dean Karnazes because he is the 'populist' figure in ultrarunning. A self-promoter, I think he is described as. Well, if he gets one of those hilariously obese Americans I see every year in Vegas off their fat arses, then I say more power to him. If he gets a hundred people up and active, even better. But I suspect he does more than that, much more. And, speaking with cynical journalist hat on, when I met him he came across as grounded, humble, and a very, very nice man. I met him expecting him to be a cock, expecting to be disappointed and I came away admiring him hugely. This does not happen often, believe me. Before you dismiss him, let's not forget the dude has won Badwater, something the same writer bigs-up the book's kind-of hero Scott Jurek for. Maybe he is a self-publicist - he's trying to make a living from running, so if he isn't working to promote himself he ain't going to be paying his mortgage next month, is he? Nobody is going to earn a living for him.

The other thing is where the writer dismisses yoga in a single sentence. One mention of yoga in the book, and that's it. Despite yoga providing the basis for every single stretch we do to stay supple and healthy and avoid those nasty muscle injuries... Apparently, all the runners the author knows that do yoga are always injured. So it's dismissed. That is just fucking strange, not to mention shortsighted to the point of near-stupidity. Yep, it may be true that all the runners he knows that do yoga are injured frequently, but is yoga the cause? Are they doing the right type of yoga for what they need? Yoga has been around for a very, very long time, and for good reason. I simply cannot believe that yoga is the cause of injury for those runners. Mind you, they might be pig-shit thick, so who the hell knows?

Don't get me wrong, I adore the book. Those things just annoy me, and for the same reason - two facile comments with very little to back them up. I've never, ever done anything like that, ever. Not me.

*FYI, that's the wife, not the dog.

** US Fact Fans, that's 26.6 F in fake degrees

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