I was asked the other night what music I listen to when I’m
running. The answer is I don’t. For a start I don’t think I own any music with
a recognisable beat that I could run
to. Also, I like to maintain my situational awareness when I’m running, rather
than block it out. But the main reason is that running time is my thinking
time, the time when I disappear into my own scary little world for a while. Sometimes it can be extreme. In my last blog post
I gave an example of a run where my thoughts led to such a shocking revelation
that I literally couldn’t run for a while. Sometimes, however, it’s like
luxuriating in a hot bath and just wallowing in thought, wherever it leads.
This Sunday was a good example of that.
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| 2010 Westonbirt 10k - during my "large" phase! |
My run started in the back streets and alleyways of the dull
housing estate on which I live. The grey drizzle bleached the estate, leaving a
blank canvas for my thoughts. Then colour started to appear. Families emerged
from the centrally heated warmth of the little boxes they call home, dressed in
their Sunday best for church, and I reflected on the faith that motivates them
to do that every week. Sunday shoppers emerged as I passed the supermarket
where you can “taste the difference”. I thought of the Sunday roasts being
bought and, less generously, hangover cures for the members of the local
student population who frequent that store. The student theme continued as I
ran round the university campus, the keener ones shaking off their thick heads and
making for the refuge of the library. I thought of the opportunity they are so
fortunate to have and the possibilities their lives ahead are so full of. By way
of contrast, my run took me next down the “Yellow Brick Road”, a winding
downhill path that passes a former mental institution whose bright yellow façade
glares starkly down at Bristol folk, tormenting us with silent screams of anguish
and opportunities lost.
The cacophony of the motorway underpass briefly snapped me out
of my dreaminess but I was soon back in thought as I entered Snuff Mills and Oldbury Court Estate, with its’
legions of dog walkers, duck feeders, volunteer gardeners, perambulating
families and kids on bikes. I was particularly taken by one young girl in bright
pink wellies, who was clearly discovering the joys of thick, gloopy mud for the
first time. The path through here is part of the Frome Valley Walkway and it is such
a delightful retreat from the surrounding madness of Bristol’s suburban sprawl.
Likewise, Frenchay Common, which was next up, is a “proper” village green in
the suburbs, with a pub, a church and a duck pond. I found time for my own
private thoughts on this section of the run. I’d made a difficult decision the
previous day, again related to last week’s post, and it was time now to reflect
on how that decision, as hard as it was, will have positive outcomes in the
future. I think this is the aspect of running I enjoy the most. The part when
you’re in “the zone”. Mentally you’re firing on all cylinders, but physically
you’ve completely switched off; your body is on auto-pilot and before you know
it, three miles have passed. If only all the miles were like that!
The final third of the run was all about mental and physical
toughness. This was my first 10-mile run in a long time and I wasn’t very well prepared.
My legs and lungs were saying “no” but my mind was saying “yes”. This is often
the hardness part of running; digging deep, drawing on whatever reserves you
might have and finding that last bit of mental strength and sheer bloody-mindedness
that drags you over the finish line.
I’m going to need to find a lot of that over the coming
months. I found out on Friday that I’ve been lucky enough to secure a place in the
2012 London Marathon. 10
miles is less than half a marathon, so I’ve got a lot more thinking time ahead
of me while I pound the local streets in preparation. I wonder how many times I
will remind myself between now and April that it’s not “training” it’s “luxuriating
in thought”!!!
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