When you have the inclination to do a particular thing, be it making an album, starting a painting or even just walking to the shop there comes a point at which that thought has to make the bridge into reality. You have to define whether it's a passing fancy, a flash in the pan or a project of love and labour. You have to plan, immerse yourself and take it beyond mere fantasised abstraction into an honest reality. Less so going to the shop, but getting up off that sofa on the promise of Oreos is still a difficult one sometimes. I can be very sluggish about that, a self-proclaimed 'ideas man', like Steve Jobs but without the jobs essentially. I like concepts, theories, abstractions; the tools to know but often not to do, so I put the groundwork in, underpin a project and then lose interest. I think the big exceptions for me are sports and other peoples' passions, the world is richer for yourself if you learn according to what other people love because knowledge given with true heart is so much more special than straight up learning, that's why a passionate teacher succeeds over a text book warrior in my opinion. That's an aside for another time though, back to sports; fell-running, cycling, lifting weights or even just making sure that I'm the person walking fastest down Market Street in town. All of those just open up some feeling of fulfilment in my being, sharing a walk or a day out with my dad also captures that spirit but that's the beauty of mutuality and connected understanding. On the subject of sports, I believe that if you work yourself to the point of physical and mental exhaustion each moment becomes purely meditative.....is there any higher degree of total awareness of body and mind than feeling destroyed and using all your will power just to raise your leg up for one more step? Once that individual action is done the next step is to convince yourself to just do it one more time, that's meditation.
Some time around the end of last September I got the idea into my head that I'd have a serious crack at the Under 23 category in the British Fell Running Championships this year. It had been my season aim the year I got injured and I felt like I had some unfinished business with it. I was running relatively well by September, I went up to Scafell Pike and had a great run by all accounts so I settled in for a long winter training. I haven't ever really applied myself with such enthusiasm as for this race, training twice a day became a staple part of life. For a time when I was jobless my diet and life schedule was the same every day; 7am bran flakes and coffee, back to bed, 10am run or bike, cous cous, job applications, toast, weights session, 4 omelette and beans, bed. I was exploring new ideas, new ways to train; extra tough core days, which weights sessions left my body in a good way to run hard the next day. It was simply fantastic. There was no real measuring of progress or times at this point, just a steady commitment to go out and really put the hurt on to improve myself. When you don't have a steady work life to commit yourself to exercise and healthy living definitely goes some way to plugging that gap. The ten mile tempo run became a real close friend of mine through the winter and I have to say it's probably still for me the toughest session I can do. All in all, I should have been delivering myself into the first race; Ras Y Moelwyn in great shape, all things aside I did. Two weeks before the Moelwyns, I decided to go down to see the members of my old club and do their first summer handicap series race. I couldn't have been more delighted with my run, nor could I have been happier with my measured run 2 days later. I was flying.
It's been six days since the race now and I've flitted between upset about the situation, apathy and acceptance of what happened. If you dedicate seven months of yourself to something I generally believe that if it doesn't go well then there is some self-reflection which will be inevitably negative. Racing is so much more objective than say writing a piece, if someone doesn't like a piece of writing then it is a matter of opinion but there are clear pointers towards a bad race and therefore it's possible to carry out a very thorough analysis of individual points and issues. It's a dangerous territory though, when you apply cause and effect to an arbitrary event like a ball smashing a window it's all acceptable but when you try and analyse an event that personally matters like a bad race, it comes across as either excuse making or severely self-deprecating. I become subject, during self-analysis, to this overriding expectation that I believe others expect the way I look at the world is from a very self-absorbed standpoint, negative self-analysis I think can come across as egotistical unintentionally. I believe this is why when someone has a bad day they are more likely to say they are ok but more likely to elaborate on a good day, there is an element of guilt with negativity or discord in your life.
In short, and in the least excuse making way the factors behind my perceived bad race were; a pulled back (which is now stopping me from running), calf cramps from two miles onwards, possible dehydration causing said cramps and lastly I definitely misjudged the course, I thought it would all be highly technical but rocky paths, the reality is that it was largely grassy and boggy so not conducive to extra fast running at any point. The final result of my self-analysis; a bad day at the office and a slightly off approach to the race; nature vs nurture in a fell-running capacity. I put off writing about it at the time because I realised it would become like some self-absorbed existentialist struggle from the depths of Nieztche's mind- "I stared into the abyss and the abyss stared back at me". It's only after simmering down and taking a bit of a step back and looking at the most fantastic months of my running life that I can see the result was so much more than 165th in 1.41 something. I'm injured now so I can just about get on the bike and do a few hills but those months brought on such improvement. It got me through the cold winter with purpose, it was a very Aristotelian few months I guess. I know where I came from, what I did and where I have to go to improve....except for one day of it I loved it all, I don't think that's as bad as it initially seemed. Self-reflection can be the judge, jury and executioner but if you take the time to properly gather evidence it can be an awesome defence lawyer.
In the few days since the race, I've done things that my mind was distracted from. I've had a fantastic time; gig watching, drinking, eating well, stargazing, walking in beautiful places with great people......the step back required by self-analysis has given me an opportunity to step back in my attitude towards running and life in general. Immediately after the race, it felt like an anti-climatic seven months, but now in hindsight it feels more like the start of the start of something really great. That's my warning to myself I guess, aiming towards goals is always positive but you have to see that goal as a centrepiece in your life not your life as a centrepiece of that goal. This is just a short piece with little point I realise, but I had a spare 20 minutes so yeah and I haven't proof read it yet, existentialist angst provided by my Elliot Smith playlist.
