A couple of things jumped out at me during one of my 10-milers with my training buddy with Sophy that morning. And something shortly after it. Neither of these thoughts would have been particularly noteworthy had it not been for the fact that I was trying to capture as many thoughts, observations and so on as I was going through this period of intense training. As for the third, well, that’s an odd one!
First up, Sophy mentioned that someone had recently remarked that she “didn’t look like a runner” and the second was that, some seven miles in, I remarked that running a long way only really started to feel like anything was happening, fitness and effort-wise, until around six miles in. Let’s look at each in turn, before considering the odd one.
What, you might you ask, does a runner look like? Mo Farah? Tall, slender, black, and male? Well, he is, as are some others. But look around you, most people are not. There are people running all over the place. They are all different shapes, sizes, ages, looks and whatever. I remember being overtaken in a race (the Milton Keynes Winter Half) by a chap who I’d otherwise think could barely get up the stairs, such was his bulk. As he passed me, we spoke. He was on a weight loss journey and was already 4 stone down. He said he felt light as a feather, and his running showed he really was! Did he look like a runner? No chance. Was he a runner? Hell, yeah.
Running is what you do. It’s certainly not what you look like.
As for the second point of discussion from that morning, about hitting longer distances, and then going further from there, let’s look at that. Now what I mean by a “longer distance” is anything over 6 miles, or 10k. That’s where it kicks in for me, it may be different for you, it’s sure to be. The principle remains the same.
5 miles ticked over that morning and I couldn’t believe it, we’d already gone THAT FAR! Surely not. But yes, our watches weren’t lying. We felt totally fresh, not remotely out of breath and barely warmed up in the early autumn mist, hovering over Northampton’s Washlands. A couple of miles later and things hadn’t changed at all. It was at this point it struck me what being a longer distance runner entails, in almost every run you do. And that is churning through the first few miles, just getting them done so that the real training effects can start taking place thereafter. In what other pursuit does it take an hour to get warmed up in? No wonder it takes such time and commitment, and support from family, to be able to pursue this hobby.
Maybe it’s a bit like going to a gig and finding out the warm up band is fact the main act. But that all they will be doing is tuning their instruments, playing scales and singing Do-Re-Me-Fah-Soh-Lah-Tay for an hour before venturing near a recognisable tune! Yes, that just about sums it up.
Once through that hour, the run really begins, and the work starts to be done. They say a marathon starts at 20 miles, and getting to that point is just something you have to get through. Having run plenty, I can’t disagree (and that the feeling of the 20 mile kick – “The Wall” – or a similar feeling hits you at lower and lower distances the less and less training you’ve done – don’t I know it!).
That day I didn’t approach any where near 20 miles, stopping just short of 12, after a couple of days rest. I was barely out of breath, had a quick stretch, hopped in the car and was home and showered in 20 minutes. I was definitely becoming a longer distance runner – rather useful considering!
It was then that the third, rather unsettling, thought came to mind, and it was this: “Maybe I could do another run later in the day”. I honestly thought that I should challenge my legs a little more. I was thinking of going around six miles, just to get more time on my feet, and it’s always been the case that when running feels so good, I want to do a little more. Where that thought came from, I really don’t know, nor was I sure if I should worry about it, or even whether I should act on it or not. Only time would tell, that afternoon and evening.
As for right then, the allotment beckoned – I wondered if maybe there’d be some ripe sweetcorn to harvest…
…
And yes, there was sweetcorn – from plant to plate in an hour – delicious
And no, no run!