Curry, lager, Chinese, crisps, Mars Bars, cake, full English breakfast, real ale, curry, Tequila Rose (don't ask) cheeseburger & chips, lager, wine, roast dinner, curry, Jagermeister (don't ask).
The above is just a selection of the food I've consumed in the last eight days in my "week off" since I finished The Great South Run. Not in itself a revelation, I've broken no gastronomic ground (gastrological maybe but that's a different topic entirely) and there is nothing there I've not consumed many times before (Tequila Rose aside). The thing that has taken me by surprise when I look back on this list is the fact that I'd partaken in precisely none of the above during the four or five weeks running up to the Great South.
I run so that I can eat what I like. That's what I tend to tell people who ask and it was definitely the reason I began to run in the first place. Hitting forty, metabolism slowing and my middle a little bit more Telly-Tubby like by the day. No time to make a regular commitment to something like a football team, and too old and crap probably anyway, so get out on the road and run off the belly. To be honest I was firmly in the camp that said running as a hobby was pointless and boring. Give me a ball to chase, a pair of nylon shorts and ten team mates and I'd run all day. OK, all day might be a lie but you get my drift, football was obviously worthy of my exertion but "just" running? Totally pointless mate, totally pointless. Nevertheless, the belly was gonna get me and the only way out was to run.
But something changed. For some reason, and not really a very conscious one, things changed and I'm not running to enable my Wayne Slob diet anymore. At some undetermined moment the run didn't become the means to the food but the food became the fuel for the run. I wasn't depriving myself of anything, I'd just changed my mindset and the reason I began running in the first place had just melted away. So why am I running now? What is it all about? Why do I run?
Having polled opinion it seems there are many and varied reasons for people finding their way to this sport. The thrill of achievement, keeping themselves sane, to get some "me" time, to support good causes, to combat stress, to lose weight, to outrun the law (I think the provider of that one was joking??). For me there are two reasons...
I entered races because I had to have a target. If I'd paid money and made a commitment then I bloody well had to get my backside into some shorts and get some miles in. No excuses Young, there's a date to be ready by, a training plan to follow and you HAVE to do it. And so I did. The achievement wasn't a particular time, or a negative split, or that I beat at least one banana clad runner home but that I made it round. And in the aftermath of having made it round (without really realising it until now when I stop and think) I discovered the first reason why I run. As I stumbled around in the finish area, medal around my neck, tide marks of sweat on my clothes, wringing wet and smelly, XL T-shirt in hand I saw my wife and eldest daughter. On seeing me she ran towards me and jumped into my arms (no not my wife silly) and gave me the biggest and best hug a dad could ever get. She was proud of me, I'd made my daughter proud. A year later I held her hand and we ran the 1.5k of the Great South Mini Run together. A year after that, at age 6, she insisted on running around on her own and she's already talking about next year and asking how old she has to be to run in the longer Junior race. She watched the Olympics this summer with zest. It was treat for her to be able to stay up late and watch Mo take his second gold. She cheered along with me like a fellow junior madman as Mo ran that majestic last lap and refused to be passed (though she did stop short of jumping and cracking her head on the light fittings in the lounge unlike me). For my daughter running is cool, being fit is cool, I did my bit to inspire that thought and I'm proud of that.
Reason two had actually happened a few minutes before I stumbled around that finishing area in 2010. I had finished, I'd achieved what I set out to do. No judgment from anyone else, no three quarters through and abandoning the project in favour of starting another, no meeting or boss or committee to decide if the project was complete to their satisfaction, no judges giving scores - I had finished. In fact, throughout my training many times I had set myself mini goals and had achieved them. A sprint session, some hill work, my first 5k, my first hour of running non-stop, I set the target and, with a lot of determination, I'd achieved. As my first year of running finished I entered some of the races and distances I'd done before and my previous time became something to beat, a PB seeker. In last years GSR I went out too fast and died a thousand deaths in the home straight, this year I set myself the goal of a negative split, and I did it. I'm not always successful. I miss plenty of runs, I've abandoned many midway through and some days my legs are too heavy to carry me at anything other than a snails pace. But I keep the show on the road and I get to the start line of my goal races and when I do there may be 25,000 other people there with me, but the only race I'm in is with me. And if I beat my PB, or run the negative split, or maybe just get round at all (goals can legitimately be reset mid-race I'll have you know) I will be a winner. Thousands may cross the line before me but none will win my race except me and I'll take a moment to pump the fist, smile and be proud of myself and feel the feelings that make keep me coming back for more. No Mobot moment of course, I wouldn't want to bring down any light fittings again....
The above is just a selection of the food I've consumed in the last eight days in my "week off" since I finished The Great South Run. Not in itself a revelation, I've broken no gastronomic ground (gastrological maybe but that's a different topic entirely) and there is nothing there I've not consumed many times before (Tequila Rose aside). The thing that has taken me by surprise when I look back on this list is the fact that I'd partaken in precisely none of the above during the four or five weeks running up to the Great South.
I run so that I can eat what I like. That's what I tend to tell people who ask and it was definitely the reason I began to run in the first place. Hitting forty, metabolism slowing and my middle a little bit more Telly-Tubby like by the day. No time to make a regular commitment to something like a football team, and too old and crap probably anyway, so get out on the road and run off the belly. To be honest I was firmly in the camp that said running as a hobby was pointless and boring. Give me a ball to chase, a pair of nylon shorts and ten team mates and I'd run all day. OK, all day might be a lie but you get my drift, football was obviously worthy of my exertion but "just" running? Totally pointless mate, totally pointless. Nevertheless, the belly was gonna get me and the only way out was to run.
But something changed. For some reason, and not really a very conscious one, things changed and I'm not running to enable my Wayne Slob diet anymore. At some undetermined moment the run didn't become the means to the food but the food became the fuel for the run. I wasn't depriving myself of anything, I'd just changed my mindset and the reason I began running in the first place had just melted away. So why am I running now? What is it all about? Why do I run?
Having polled opinion it seems there are many and varied reasons for people finding their way to this sport. The thrill of achievement, keeping themselves sane, to get some "me" time, to support good causes, to combat stress, to lose weight, to outrun the law (I think the provider of that one was joking??). For me there are two reasons...
I entered races because I had to have a target. If I'd paid money and made a commitment then I bloody well had to get my backside into some shorts and get some miles in. No excuses Young, there's a date to be ready by, a training plan to follow and you HAVE to do it. And so I did. The achievement wasn't a particular time, or a negative split, or that I beat at least one banana clad runner home but that I made it round. And in the aftermath of having made it round (without really realising it until now when I stop and think) I discovered the first reason why I run. As I stumbled around in the finish area, medal around my neck, tide marks of sweat on my clothes, wringing wet and smelly, XL T-shirt in hand I saw my wife and eldest daughter. On seeing me she ran towards me and jumped into my arms (no not my wife silly) and gave me the biggest and best hug a dad could ever get. She was proud of me, I'd made my daughter proud. A year later I held her hand and we ran the 1.5k of the Great South Mini Run together. A year after that, at age 6, she insisted on running around on her own and she's already talking about next year and asking how old she has to be to run in the longer Junior race. She watched the Olympics this summer with zest. It was treat for her to be able to stay up late and watch Mo take his second gold. She cheered along with me like a fellow junior madman as Mo ran that majestic last lap and refused to be passed (though she did stop short of jumping and cracking her head on the light fittings in the lounge unlike me). For my daughter running is cool, being fit is cool, I did my bit to inspire that thought and I'm proud of that.
Reason two had actually happened a few minutes before I stumbled around that finishing area in 2010. I had finished, I'd achieved what I set out to do. No judgment from anyone else, no three quarters through and abandoning the project in favour of starting another, no meeting or boss or committee to decide if the project was complete to their satisfaction, no judges giving scores - I had finished. In fact, throughout my training many times I had set myself mini goals and had achieved them. A sprint session, some hill work, my first 5k, my first hour of running non-stop, I set the target and, with a lot of determination, I'd achieved. As my first year of running finished I entered some of the races and distances I'd done before and my previous time became something to beat, a PB seeker. In last years GSR I went out too fast and died a thousand deaths in the home straight, this year I set myself the goal of a negative split, and I did it. I'm not always successful. I miss plenty of runs, I've abandoned many midway through and some days my legs are too heavy to carry me at anything other than a snails pace. But I keep the show on the road and I get to the start line of my goal races and when I do there may be 25,000 other people there with me, but the only race I'm in is with me. And if I beat my PB, or run the negative split, or maybe just get round at all (goals can legitimately be reset mid-race I'll have you know) I will be a winner. Thousands may cross the line before me but none will win my race except me and I'll take a moment to pump the fist, smile and be proud of myself and feel the feelings that make keep me coming back for more. No Mobot moment of course, I wouldn't want to bring down any light fittings again....
RSS Feed