Tuesday 12 November 2013

I'm Running Free, Yeah, I'm Running Free....

I've just picked up a copy of Boff Whalley's "Run Wild" (about time you may say, and you'd be correct) and have waltzed through the first 10 chapters in no time at all, buoyed to be reading sentiments which closely follow mine.

It's not so much that he sneers at the Big City Marathon and road running, it's that he recognises (quite rightly, in my opinion) that the phenomenon of that section of our sport has very little to do with the joy of running and re-connection with health and nature, and everything to do with the modern consumerist society and the cult of "experience".Three figure entry fees. five figure total entries, dancing girls, blaring bands and blue-chip sponsors have nothing at all to do with the pure joy of putting one foot in front of the other!

Which is not to say that I, in any way, condemn those who choose to pursue such activities. If you enjoy it, do it. But recognise what you're doing, understand that you're just part of the circus.

But, surely, the real joy of running is to be out in the wild, breathing in clean air, without the need to dodge traffic, enjoying the expansive views and the ever-changing face of nature, relishing the need to connect, both physically and mentally, with the ground beneath your feet, reading its contours and allowing the subconscious mind to adjust your footfall. On good days, you enter an almost trance-like state where it all happens without effort, and those are the moments which make it all worthwhile.

However, as much as I'm loving the book so far, one thought kept entering my head as I read it. Now, admittedly, I'm only at chapter 11 and so there's plenty of time for Mr Whalley to expand on his views but what kept crossing my mind was this;

If he rejects the idea of city marathons and road running because it is, effectively, artificial then surely, extending that logic, in the end you have to reject racing of all sorts, wherever it takes place, since the philosophy of running wild and running free is to be able to do just that, without constraints (of time, of route etc) and for pure enjoyment.

The freedom I'm enjoying in my running right now has re-ignited my love of being out on the hills and, having initially fought against this change in focus, I'm now entirely comfortable with it. In the past, runs always had a focus. That's what all the training bibles say - you MUST have a purpose for every run, otherwise it is "wasted".

Of course, the people who write such books do completely believe in what they are saying and, within the narrow context of ever-improving times and race targets, they're almost certainly correct.

But it concerns me that we can get into a mindset where running is only worthwhile when we have these targets and when we follow regimented training plans. That pressure can be felt by any runner, at any stage, but even more so, I suspect, by people who are new to the sport. These days, I've got a lot more respect for those runners who head along to JogScotland twice a week for a social trot and have no pretensions beyond that and no intention of getting sucked into the industry that is modern day running.

As for me, I've not raced in a good while now, not been down to running club but have been heading out onto the hill behind the house, exploring all sorts of nooks and crannies, sometimes making big efforts, sometimes walking, sometimes heading straight up the hill track, sometimes fumbling my way down off-path through the tussocks and bogs of these north-facing slopes. And I love it!

There's a balance in my life right now, which wasn't there in the past. I love my runs, I look forward to them, I enjoy them in the moment (because, if I'm not feeling on top form, I can just take it easy), I love the views, I love the fact that I see nobody up on those quiet hills.

But I also love the fact that I'm generally up and down and back home within a couple of hours. Plenty of time to pursue other interests, time to spend with Kirsten, time to prepare the house for our imminent arrival. In the past, running almost bordered on an obsession (almost bordered? Who am I trying to kid!). The truth is, and I still see this with plenty of other people now, it fills a hole, it plugs a gap, which could otherwise be filled with something more negative. It's no coincidence that the fellrunning world (the long distance one in particular) is full of people with histories of depression, addiction and, generally negative behaviours, who have found salvation amongst the hills.

Whether it be age, experience, circumstances, state of mind or something else, the fact is I have no need to plug the gaps any more. Funnily enough, there don't seem to be any gaps, and that's before our little lass comes along and fills our every waking thought and deed (and fills every cloth nappy!)

I'm not sure if or when I will race again. I may do so, but it will be on my terms and because I want to. I missed another chance this weekend - the start of the Lochaber Winter League and the 4 mile canal bank race. It really didn't appeal. We did go and marshall though, and I thoroughly enjoyed directing everyone back up onto the canal bank as they headed for home, offering what support I could and taking pleasure in the smiles on their faces.

And, on Sunday, we headed up to Inverness, where I'd been asked to present an award at the Inverness Blitz Awards Evening and we had a wonderful time, marveling at the commitment and dedication of both the young people who picked up their awards, but also the people at the club who make it all happen and provide their time and energies to make a difference to the lives of all those young people.

I'd already been thinking it was about time I gave some more back and tried to help make a difference. I did the LiRF some time ago and I always thought about doing the CiRF. Perhaps it's time to do something about it, help out with the next generation of runners and see if, just maybe, I can incorporate my philosophy in respect of the joy of running into the inevitable rigidity of modern day coaching.

I'm running free........

Friday 9 August 2013

It's The Beginning of a New Love Inside.......

“Everything keeps changing, nothing ever stays the same” as some wise old lyricist once said. Couldn’t have put it better myself. The older I get, the more I realise just how true that is. Nothing is ever the same, from moment to moment, let alone over longer spans of time.

We may think our home environment stays the same, but it’s the very changing of that environment which makes it so exciting for us. The changing seasons, the changing wildlife, the changing weather, the changing human habitation, they all make for variation and change, however subtle.

The woods where we walk the dogs in the morning may, initially, be regarded as “the same” but it only takes a moment to consider all the variables which transform them. Only a couple of weeks ago, the ground was parched, the burn had dried up completely and the foliage had started to wither in the heat. This morning, it was a damp picture, droplets hanging from every leaf, moisture oozing from every crevice and the ferns, mosses, brackens and bushes glowing with vibrant colour, nourished by the rain.

Only a couple of days ago, we’d noticed a wee mushroom growing out of tree roots in the middle of the path, a delicate fungi battling for survival. This morning, it was transformed, several times the size in only a few days.

And so it is with all things in life.

If ever we find ourselves in a happy situation, satisfied with all that life is offering us, we often find ourselves thinking “I hope everything stays just as it is now”. And yet the one thing we can be sure about is that it won’t.

All of which can lead to only one conclusion....if we seek constant happiness in our lives, then we must be able to adapt to change, embrace the positive aspects and roll with the punches. And this, to my mind, suggests that we should never take an entrenched position on anything, because the circumstances which lead us to have a certain opinion will surely change and that may mean our opinion has to change.

And why is all this relevant? Well, purely and simply because it applies to everything in my life right now. It’s very much a period of change. I struggle sometimes when I’m not in control of a situation and that’s certainly the case right now.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve always enjoyed solo running? I feel in control of my own destiny and I can take things at my own pace, follow my own route and do what I wish. The essential compromise of being part of a group has never really appealed to me.

And, at this moment, that’s very much where my running is at. I’ve not been to club for a good while, I’ve managed to duck out of races I’d entered and I’ve headed off on solo jaunts (or rather, I’ve headed off with Sam the Dog) when I’ve felt like it (or when Sammy rolls those puppy-dog eyes at me!) with no set agenda, sometimes putting in big efforts, sometimes walking more than running.

And the truth is, I feel happier about my running than I have for a good while. I’ll always love the feeling of moving fast over rough terrain and, on those days when it all comes together and feels natural, I’ll continue to do that. Otherwise, I can now feel no pressure on days when I don’t feel so good. In the past, I may have “forced” the run, head down, missing all the glorious views and nature around me, all for the sake of “training”. Now, I’ll just as happily walk for a while and have a lovely time, knowing I’ll run another day.

And will I race again? At the moment, the answer is probably no. I’ve got so much to explore here and I love this quiet area of the Highlands so much, why would I spend all my time travelling off to far-flung places to follow a couple of hundred other people around busy hills? I’ll plan to do the local club winter league races, because they’re small, local and good bit of fun. But who knows if that will change?

At this time, I’m also enjoying my cycling every bit as much as my running. Getting the road bike has been a revelation (thanks Dad!!). From the moment I sat on it and felt the acceleration as I headed up the road, I’ve been hooked. This is NOT a mountain bike!

I’d never ridden a road bike before and it’s certainly taken some getting used to. I’ve never been that confident on a bike, so even simple things like taking a drink while riding have had to be worked on. Perhaps that’s part of the attraction, it’s something new and exciting, with plenty to learn.


But I know it is more than that. As with when I started fellrunning, I’m loving the distances that can be covered in relatively short spaces of time. Whereas a 90 minute run may cover 9 or 10 miles (depending on terrain), I can happily cover 25 miles on the single-track coast road down to Corran, taking in all the wonderful sights along the way.

For a wee while, I thought I might be getting hooked into being competitive on the bike. There’s a regular time trial held by West Highland Wheelers, and I’ve contemplated going. I may still, for the novelty. But, again, at this time, I’m enjoying the freedom of going out and listening to my body and mind in determining how hard I want to push myself on any given day.

The other factor is whether to go out and ride with a group. It seems everyone does it, and I am partly attracted to it, if nothing else, for the opportunity to learn from people with experience and knowledge. But, at the same time, I’ve read a few accounts of group rides, which seem to consist of doing nothing but focussing on the back tyre in front of you, responding to shouts of “pothole” etc and trying not to break ranks. That sounds about as appealing as plodding up a hill in an endless line of runners, only able to see the back of the shorts of the person in front. Why would you?

So what else is changing? (Why, everything, of course!). What has me contemplating and navel-gazing on the nature of life?

Well quite a lot really, much to make me contemplative.

Firstly, after over 20 years of owning my house in Shropshire, it’s now getting pretty close to being at an end. The sale has dragged on and on, but finally I have a completion date and a buyer who’s really keen to get in there.

So, a couple of weekends ago, I headed down to clear the house and help my lad move into his new place. Both were events which had me in reflective mood. Moving your “child” into his first place of his own is one of those events which drives home the message that they’re growing up and the ties that bind you need to be loosened a little bit more. It seems like only yesterday that he was a wee lad needing my every care and attention. The years have flown by, in merely the blink of an eye, and now I find myself proud of a lad who has taken on the task of finding himself somewhere with great enthusiasm and responsibility. Another milestone on the way through both of our lives.

As for clearing the old place, it was strange to be back there now, spending a couple of nights on my own in a near-empty shell. Memories can’t help but bombard you, both good and bad, times of happiness, times of stress and difficulty. Some of those memories have perhaps been buried over time, but naturally re-surface at such a time. There’s nowt wrong with that. Life moves on, everything changes, and they can perhaps be looked at in a different light and laid to rest.

Despite the memories, I felt nothing for the house any more. It’s tired and lifeless, and I’m probably more excited by the fact that someone is coming in who plans to breathe new life into it. It’s not where I choose to be any longer, but it was a major part of my life and, in particular, where I brought up my lad. It’s nice to think someone new may get to forge similar memories.


I also spent a fair bit of time up in the loft, reaching into far flung corners to retrieve boxes, some of which hadn’t been opened for 20 years, since the move to the house. That was perhaps even more bizarre, partly unsettling but ultimately life-affirming – a glimpse back into who I was in my mid-20s, a very different person to who I am now, leading a very different life.

Sometimes, you perhaps need to come face to face with your previous self, to allow you to recognise those factors which might have held you back then, but which shouldn’t be allowed to hold you back as you move forward. Back in those days, my true wishes and desires for life were suppressed in favour of the “norm”, a cosy little life which was always destined to failure – you can only keep your true self hidden for so long. Lessons were learned, threats noted, skeletons placed firmly back in closets, upturned stones replaced and, several trips to the tip later, goodbyes to an old life were waved.

Next up will be another house move! We’ve moved a few times these past few years. We’re masters at it! But I don’t think either of us relishes the prospect of boxing up our lives again, although we’re both excited by the move.

As soon as we came to this place, we fell in love with it. It’s quiet, beautiful and the addition of the sea loch to beautiful mountains in every direction has really entranced us. We’d only been here a couple of months before we started to talk about staying. The more we settled in, the more we loved it and we talked about buying the current place off our landlady.

And then a house came up for sale 2 miles down the road. Perched up on the hill well above the road, with views down to Loch Eil and across to Gulvain through Fassfern at the front, and views from the back straight up “our” path onto Stob Choire a Chearcaill, we fell in love with it at once. A cheeky offer was submitted....and refused! But a bit of negotiation has secured us the place at a more than reasonable price, for what and where it is. The plan is this will be our last house move (but, as we know, everything can change!). We can’t wait to be in and should be by the end of September. More change, but very positive!


All of which leads to perhaps the biggest change – both in terms of our lives and in terms of changing my mind on something I once held a fixed position on. 

This is a wonderful place to live, almost a step back in time. People over here are not concerned with celebrity lifestyles, shops and consumerism. They’re far too busy enjoying the simple things in life, be that walking by the water and on the hills, sailing on the loch, tending to gardens and crofts, keeping chickens, chopping wood for their fires and just generally dealing with the true necessities of life.

It’s a wonderful place for a youngster to grow up. A place where playing could still involve the innocence of tree houses and discovering plants, shells, birds and animals in the undergrowth. A place where it’s safe to be out and you know that someone in the community will be looking out for them, where the neighbour might encourage them to come and help collect the eggs from the chickens, the mobile library might bring new treasures each week and the non-stop march of technology may just be held enough at bay for now. A place where a child can be a child, something sadly missing these days.

Life will change enormously and, certainly, a year or so ago, I would never have planned it. But I’ve changed too (of course!). I’m looking forward to the ups, the downs, the pleasure, the worry and the knowledge that, in my more “mature” years, I’ll be able to enjoy it even more, adapting to those changes.

I’m not the person I was and I’m not the person I will be, but the person I am right now is very happy and is thoroughly looking forward to the future. 

Thursday 7 March 2013

Me, Myself and I




“It is the constant thinking activity of Self 1, the ego mind, which causes interference with the natural doing process of Self 2. Harmony between the two selves exists when the mind itself is quiet. Only when the mind is still is one’s peak performance reached”    W T Gallwey “The Inner Game of Tennis”

This one’s taken a few weeks to write, an exorcism of thoughts that have been rattling around my consciousness, influenced and shaped by many observations, particularly over the last couple of months but, in fact, even over years.

In running terms, I’m drifting, unfocused, no targets on the horizon and no goals to achieve. And, perhaps because of that, the training has been sporadic (at best!) and I don’t have a set schedule I feel I should be following.

And the question that kept coming into my head was: “does it matter?”

In such times, I usually turn back to “The Inner Game of Tennis” as a source of inspiration and guidance. Its simple philosophy and principles make perfect sense to me. Life can sometimes seem to be a battle between consciously thinking and actually doing. It’s all to easy to judge yourself (both positively and negatively) rather than just being, observing and learning.

And it, invariably, comes back to ego. We all suffer from it: the thought that somehow what we do IS important, that there is some greater meaning.

“I wonder about the probability of surviving in the mountains and then I look at the stars, at an infinity of other worlds, and I realise that it doesn’t matter that much......We are unimaginably ignorant and, in the context of space and time, we are an utter irrelevance....We are no more than the blinking of an eye between two eternities”      Joe Simpson “The Beckoning Silence”

The truth is that nothing I do really matters. In the short term, my ego cares whether I run or not, and how well I do it, so my challenge is to strip back that ego, quieten Self 1 and see what happens. In the medium term, my name may remain in the records of races run and challenges undertaken, all games made up by people to amuse themselves, none of them having any significance or resonance in the history of this vast universe.

So I did the Bob Graham a few years back....what did it matter? Of course, to me, it meant everything and nothing. At the time, it boosted my ego greatly and I felt a huge amount of pride in having done it. Now, a few years on, I understand that what it taught me most of all was to allow myself to be in the moment, to quieten the doubts, to not fight against but to go with the flow and allow my inner self to perform to its potential. And, overall, I appreciate that it means nothing at all, of course. Just a list of names of people who’ve done something in their lives, but which doesn’t have any real relevance.

“But to anyone reasonable, my life will seem more or less normal-under-the-microscope, full of contingencies and incongruities none of us escapes and which do little harm in an existence that otherwise goes unnoticed.”    Richard Ford “Independence Day”

I’ve been agnostic for all of my adult life. I see no evidence for any greater being, any greater purpose to our lives and I’ve always believed that, when we die, we are just a piles of bones or ashes in the earth, marked only as a place of remembrance for our kin.

Some people seem to find that to be a negative, pessimistic view of life. I see it as the opposite, the older I get. It frees me to do whatever I want in the remaining years I have on this earth. I came into this earth via a natural process, I’ll leave via one and what I do inbetween is entirely my choice. It doesn’t mean I don’t have morals or ethics. I clearly do, and I do my best to live harmoniously on this earth (within the constraints of modern life), appreciating all the great beauty around us.

And, of course, I regard humans as no more important a species than any other. Why would anyone? To do so would only demonstrate massive ego. We’re all here to co-exist, we all have a place in the complicated balance of nature and, the only thing we can be sure of, is that, if we tip the scales too far in any direction, nature will wreak havoc.

“Does this sound very "green" to you? To me it sounds like a society fixated on growth and material progress going about its destructive business in much the same way as ever, only without the carbon. It sounds like a society whose answer to everything is more and bigger technology; a society so cut off from nature that it believes industrialising a mountain is a "sustainable" thing to do.”     Paul Kingsnorth  ”AWindfarm is Not the Answer”

As my thoughts have become concentrated and focused, and as I’ve contemplated the direction my life will head in from here, it just so happens that I’ve also hit upon some writers who have managed to encapsulate my thoughts and feelings.

In a modern world with which I increasingly feel at odds, it’s comforting to find that others feel the same and perhaps, just perhaps, that feeling is growing (and, yes, I appreciate that in finding that comfort, I am demonstrating some level of ego!).  

Although I don’t regard procreation as a “purpose”, it is a fact of life and the very least I can do is treat the earth properly and not join in with the wholesale destruction of it on which the human race seems hell-bent, for the sake of my children and my children’s children.

If I can live my life so that, at the end of it, I personally have had no detrimental effect, then I will be content with that. If I’ve used my time to do things I enjoy and, perhaps even to spread my enjoyment to others, then even better.

After a while, my meditations and studies began to bear fruit. It really started late in January, one frosty night in the woods in the dead silence it seemed I almost heard the words said: “Everything is all right forever and forever and forever”. I let out a big HOO, one o’clock in the morning, the dogs leaped up and exulted. I felt like yelling it to the stars. I clasped my hands and prayed,”O wise and serene spirit of Awakenhood, everything’s alright forever, and forever and forever and thank you thank you thank you amen.” What’d I care about the tower of ghouls and sperms and bones and dust. I felt free and therefore I was free.”    Jack Kerouac “The Dharma Bums”

So where does all this leave me? Feeling more calm and serene than I ever have before, not chasing dreams, not setting targets out of some requirement to be seen to be doing so, just enjoying living in the moment, in the here and now. I’m enjoying loch-side walks, where we see ducks, heron, otters, seagulls, seals, cormorants, and all manner of other creatures. I’m enjoying nice, slow explorations of unseen glens, where huge slopes tower above us on both sides. I’m enjoying my imagination running wild at the thoughts of lives lived in these glens in times past and the certain knowledge that lives will be lived for equally as long in the future.

And what of my running? I’ll be out there when I want to be, and when time allows. Sometimes I’ll go out and push myself, because I’ll feel like it. Sometimes I’ll just go out and plod, enjoy being out in the wilds and taking in all around me. I’m not going to put any pressure on myself and not going to have any expectations. Races? I’ve entered a couple, not with any great plans or hopes, just because they’re in beautiful places and provide me with an excuse to go there.

I’ve got a wee route planned in the area as well. Straight from the house. It clocks in at around 50 miles and 20,000 feet, almost all pathless, never touching a road. I might give it a go around midsummer. And then again, I might not. If nothing else, I’ll enjoy getting out there and checking some of the lines between hills, using slopes and gullies rarely visited by humans these days, although a few of the wiley old characters around these parts will be able to teach my knowledge of these places from their years tending to their flocks on this inhospitable terrain.

Jon Gay’s fantastic winter Ramsay quite inspired me as well. Maybe I will have a look at the route. I think the truth is that I probably won’t though. Why spend all my time getting to know mountains 20+ miles drive away when I’ve got all these hills in my back garden and I could spend a lifetime getting to know them?

Whatever I decide, I’ll enjoy myself and know that it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.....

The wind will still blow, the world is still turning,
Somewhere exotic, the sun is still burning,
But here the night's fallen and so must we rest,
Your head by my heart, gently pressed to my breast.
The whispering ocean with tall tales to tell
Is done for the day as he settles his swell,
The flickering stars so impossibly high
Are yawning and waving from far in the sky,
And old Mother Moon, with her pale, peaceful light,
Keeps watch from above as she sings us goodnight:
'Goodnight, goodnight, oh my children, goodnight,
Sleep deeply, sleep safely. My children, sleep tight'

Aidan Moffat and Bill Wells   “And So We Must Rest”

Monday 21 January 2013

We Could Be Heroes, Just For One Day......


A week of contrasting events has provoked some thought, clarified my own stance on matters and left me pondering why people always seem to be looking to others for their lead and their inspiration.

A week of fairly cold, wintery weather has left a nice covering of snow on the hills, backed up with an icy under-surface just to make the conditions more testing. Myself and Sam had a couple of trips out and Friday’s in particular gave us a clear insight into the differences in weather between sea level and the higher tops and ridges.

We climbed up from Blaich on the old track, initially on a decent surface, albeit with a few slippy patches of hard ice. However, as we headed out above the deer fence, the surface and the air conditions rapidly changed. Underfoot, there was a thick carpet of ice with a shallow covering of snow over the top. Much time was spent trying to weave a way along the edge of the track and up through the heather. As we got higher, the wind started whipping up, blasting the snow across the path and, whilst the air temperature as probably only just below freezing, it felt at least 10 degrees less than that in the icy blast.

We climbed up to the cairn on the ridge, but with snow blasting across the plateau and searching out every and any route to chill my skin under several layers, we did a quick about turn and headed down. This time we left the slippy path and plunged straight down snowy, heathery slopes....always great fun!

On Saturday, we had to pop over to town and so Kirsten suggested bundling Sam in the car and heading out for a run from the North Face Car Park up to the CIC Hut, something we’d done together a couple of years ago, as we contemplated the idea of moving to Scotland (who'd thought we'd be here now!).

Once again, the path heading through the trees was initially fine, but as we gained height and headed out onto open slopes, the path took on an icy sheen and the running gait changed to accommodate this.

We met people coming back the other way, who all advised that it was very slippy further up and, before long, we decided it was time to don the kathoola spikes. And what a difference! Once they were on, we were skipping along with confidence, enjoying the incredible scenery and the privilege of being in such a special place.

There was a fierce wind though, whipping the snow up in swirls and eddies from the ground, mini twisters veering off into the nearby slopes. Two years ago, there had been a lot more snow than this, but make no mistake, this was a proper winter day on the Ben.

We eventually arrived up at the hut, where the driving wind had caused snow to pile up high against the windows and doors. It wasn’t a place to linger. We spent a few minutes taking photos and looking for climbers up on the North East buttress, or heading up Tower Ridge. Either we were too late to see them or the wild conditions had encouraged most people to head for lower slopes. Without further ado, we headed back down, skipping past people who were spike-less, until we were back at the car and on our way home from another lovely trip out.

It was once we were down, and popping into Fort William for a bit of food shopping, that Kirsten mentioned the helicopter. It’s never a good sign around here, especially when the weather is so foul and the darkness starting to close in.

And sure enough, as the hours went by, the tragedy in Glencoe unfolded. A party of six experienced winter climbers had been avalanched off Bidean nam Bian, the rescue services were out and there was already talk of casualties.

In due course, it emerged that one of them had survived with no injuries by flinging himself out of the way and he had raised the alarm. Another climber had been taken to the hospital with serious injuries but, with no news of the other four, you feared the worst. And indeed, that’s how it proved to be. Four adventurous young people swept to their deaths, in the wrong place at the wrong time, but doing what they loved.

And then, over the weekend, I also found out that a friend of mine from the Midlands had broken her leg whilst out running in the Brecon Beacons and had had to be rescued by Mountain Rescue in far from ideal conditions. They shipped her off to hospital where I understand she’s now waiting for an op on a broken tibia and fibula....ouch!

Both of these events demonstrate the fine line we tread when we pursue the activities we do. In both cases, everyone was adequately equipped and suitably experienced. In both cases, through no “fault” of their own, they’ve ended up in dangerous situations. And the fact is, as fellrunners and mountaineers, it could be any one of us at any time. Does that mean we don’t do it anymore and we find more sedate activities? No, of course it doesn’t since, as well as being an ever-present danger, it’s also one of the attractions to what we do.

And that lead me on to thinking “how far would you go?”. Just how far would you push yourself to achieve something important to you? What level of danger would you put yourself in? What level of assistance would you accept? And how single-minded would you be?

I think the truth is that we would all, for the “right” goal, push ourselves a long way. Hopefully we’d know when to stop, but I suspect most of us have tales of days when we’ve pushed ourselves beyond our limits and have been “lucky” to emerge unscathed at the other end. That may be days when the conditions were bad, days when we weren’t up to it, days when we weren’t quite ready for the route we chose. But the fact remains, we’ve all been there and lived to tell the tale.

Certainly, those are all relevant questions when it comes to a Bob Graham round. Just how far would you push yourself? The answer is to the limit and beyond. Truthfully, way beyond what the body should have to physically endure. What level of danger would you put yourself in? I’ve seen rounds where the contender has been taken off the hills with near-hypothermia. I’ve seen runners (and their support) inadequately dressed or equipped for the hills. What level of assistance would you accept? Well, there’s a question! Much debate goes on about how much assistance you should have, how many people should accompany you, whether an unsupported round isn’t much more pure, what exactly is an unsupported round. The fact of the matter is that, for many, it becomes such an obsession to complete the round that, I venture to suggest, they’d take every last piece of assistance that was offered. And single-minded? Week after week of constant training, every session with a purpose as part of the bigger goal. Every weekend spent in the hills, evenings spent trying to get some ascent in, a training plan that must be adhered to, schedules to tweak and test, support to muster and organise, the big day to prepare for. It’s very single-minded.

And why is this all relevant? 

The past week has seen a lot of pontificating, lecturing, posturing, analysing and dissection of the Lance Armstrong situation. Mostly, it’s fair to say, from people who like the sound of their own voices and can’t wait to condemn the individual rather than look at the overall picture.

The stakes are so high in top-class sport, the rewards so enormous, the pressure from team managers, sponsors, funders etc so huge that I find it unlikely that any modern-day top class sport is not blighted by some kind of artificial assistance that could be classed as “cheating”, whether that be the use of banned substances or the use of foul tactics.

The fact of the matter is that the use of drugs in cycling has been going on for many, many years and, in some cases, riders who clearly took drugs are regarded as heroes, whereas others are regarded as pariahs.

For sure, during Armstrong’s time at the top, pretty much everyone was doping. In such circumstances, the bottom line is that you wouldn't be unable to compete without following that course of action. What you can’t take away is the fact that, at a time when every rider was using artificial assistance, Armstrong was still the best of them. You still have to work phenomenally hard and be incredibly dedicated to ride at the level he did. To deny this is akin to the divorcee who tries to remove every trace of their ex from the history of their lives. Like it or not, Armstrong was a “valid” champion. He was single-minded, he did what had to be done to be a champion and he was prepared to push every inch of the way to get there.

What can’t be condoned or swept under the carpet is the terrible disservice that Armstrong has done to innocent people along the way, whose names and reputations have been sullied, whose lives have potentially been destroyed by his actions and his words. It’s a terrible character flaw and some have suggested that the recent interview shows he has no remorse for what he did. I’d suggest otherwise. He’s been living a lie for so long, it must have become normality to him. He must have regarded himself as invincible in the same way that a lot of modern, overpaid footballers do – above the law, indeed a law unto themselves.

In those circumstances, with the breakdown and unravelling of all he knew over the last few months, this must be a very confusing time and one which I imagine he is struggling to make sense of. A man who has made a living out of denial is not going to suddenly be able to “come clean” and feel (and demonstrate) all the right emotions. It will be interesting to see what happens over time and how he adapts. What it clearly does demonstrate is that, whilst he may be an incredible, elite athlete, he’s a man with problems and deep flaws in his character. And why wouldn’t he have? He is, after all, only a human being like the rest of us.

And this is where my train of thought guided me in the end – why is it that people expect their “heroes” to be perfect human beings? How did people get to their 30s, 40s and older without realising the undeniable truth that, to get to the top in a given profession, there’s a fair chance you’re not the most likeable person in all situations. But, beyond that, why should that matter when assessing their achievements?

I’m not sure at what stage I worked it out. To be honest, there was never one clear, revelatory moment. The truth emerged over the years, from being told to “fuck off” by two prominent England cricketers when I asked for their autographs in 1978, through tales of drunken irresponsible behaviour by footballers, athletes who would trample on the careers of others to reach the top, climbers who walk past dying colleagues in order to summit, to a footballer who came to my team as a hero and left having dismantled the club over the course of two years of drinking, gambling and addiction.  I admire the sporting ability that these people have shown but that doesn’t lead me to think of them as great people.

And, perhaps, there lies the truth about why people do try to put them on a pedestal, worship their every move, copy their behaviour and then be disgusted when they meet their all-too-familiar downfall: in a world where so much of society and community has broken down, people are looking hard for heroes, role models whose lives they can aspire to and whose actions they can imitate, thereby making them better people. But they’re looking in the wrong places.

I look closer to home and beneath the headlines for my “heroes. I find much to admire in them but also accept the flaws that they (we all!) have in their characters.

My heroes are the men and women who headed out into the bleak mountains on a darkening Saturday afternoon (for no motive other than the wish to help others), to recover bodies from the snow, or to rescue a stricken fellrunner who might otherwise have succumbed to the conditions.

My heroes are the men and women who take to the hills week in, week out for no glory other than the glory of being out there in wonderful places which teach us much about the human condition and how tiny we are in the grand scheme of things.

My heroes are the folk who turn up to fell races every week, give it their all and exchange banter, smiles and enthusiasm even though they’ll never feature even in the top half of the results.

My heroes are the ones who do finish at the front end of the field, and yet still have time for the likes of me, keen to impart their skill, knowledge and passion for what they do but just as happy to hear about my race.

My heroes are the people I know I can turn to when the chips are down, who support and love me through thick and thin and who provide that unconditionally.

And my hero is the person who introduced me to the hills at a young age, who taught me about enjoyment of the wild places, who exposed me to the “danger” and “risk” that we face each day in the mountains and who guided me into a lifetime of thrilling adventures.

Look in the right places for your heroes and you’ll surely find them.


Tuesday 15 January 2013

Foot & Mouth

No need to worry, this is not related to farm animals and the countryside isn't about to be shut down all over the UK, No, this is about an unerring ability I seem to have for saying the wrong thing to someone, when I have no idea of who they are.

Back in the days when I was starting out in "proper" fellrunning, I headed up to the Lakes one day to recce the Old County Tops route off Helvellyn. If you've ever done the race, you'll know it's possibly the best descent in any race...1500ft of steep, fairly even, pathless grass and heather, designed to be done in just minutes but to trash the legs for the rest of the race.

I descended through the trees and trotted into Wythburn car park, stopped and, hands on knees, recovered my breath amidst the exhilaration of having flown down off a 3000ft peak.

A young Asian lad chose this moment to approach me and asked if I'd just come down off Helvellyn, and what was it like up there? We chatted some more and he asked about the pathless route down, and how long did I think it would take him, because he fancied going up there himself.

Now, in this moment, I made one of those awful assumptions (and to be fair, fellrunning is not a sport greatly frequented by the Asian community) and told him he needed to be careful, Helvellyn was a big mountain, there was a wee bit of clag on the top and the descent was rough if you didn't know where you were going.

After chatting for a couple more minutes, he started to tell me a few of his race times (17 minutes for 5k!), the fact that he was 19 years old and, as we went our separate ways, he told me his name.

A few hours later, having travelled back down the M6 to Shropshire, I googled his name and realised I'd been telling a member of the GB Junior fellrunning team and a junior fellrunning champion that he needed to be careful on the hills!

A couple of years later, now well into my BG training, I was down at my usual Wednesday night run with the Newport gang. There was a new lass there that night, I'd not met her before but she certainly was a decent runner. I didn't get to talk to her (the usual suspects had collared her!) but it was noticeable that she was right at the front of a decent-paced pack.

Back in the pub later, Noel came across with this lass and introduced her as "Kate", who wanted to chat to me because she was really interested in having a go at the BG one day. We ended up sitting chatting for a fair while. She seemed really keen to listen to details of my training exploits and what I thought it would take to get round.

In particular, I told her that two keys (I believed back then) were to get out training on the route and to get a good team around you on the day. On the latter, I suggested to her that, if she didn't know the right people, I'd be more than happy to introduce her to some and, via reccies etc, she'd get to meet plenty. She thanked me for the offer but also mentioned that her brother, Simon, had done parts of the BG and knew a few people who'd done it.

On the first point, she expressed an interest in coming out on some of my reccies and I said that I'd let her know when I was going and it would be good to have some company. So, as we got up to go, she gave me her number to be able to contact her, which I duly entered into my phone as she said, "and the name's Kate, Kate Bailey".

It took me about an hour, having driven home and cooked my tea, to suddenly have a "lightbulb" moment and realise that the lass I'd been sitting in the pub with was the sister of Simon Bailey, one of the best fellrunners in Britain, mates with just about every top-class fellrunner out there and, indeed, Kate herself was a pretty darned good athlete, who'd won plenty of races in her time.

I immediately sent a text to Noel confirming I was correct with my assumption and asking why on earth he didn't tell me, before I made a fool of myself telling her she could tag along on my reccies, that it would probably take a few years before she was ready to have a go and that I could put her in touch with folks who could help her!

And so to 2013. The latest Lochaber AC winter league race....The River Bank Splodge! A 7+ mile route around Glen Nevis, heading initially up the glen, but then all the way down the burn to finish at Claggan. We were surprised to be told, at the start-line, that there was no set route and no markers.....not helpful when you don't know the area at all and no route-map or details were up on the website in advance!

It's a dreich morning, new snow on the higher slopes, and I've only decided to run at the last minute. A nagging knee problem has sidelined me for the last few days and the extra weight I've been carrying since Christmas will undoubtedly slow me down. The omens aren't good, I'm not going to trouble my "nemesis" in the placings today and, just as importantly, I suspect that this will be the first race where I'm beaten by the fasty Lochaber lass who usually finishes just behind me.

Off we go, initially uphill on forest tracks and, immediately, the people I usually run alongside are gone. There's no trying to tag them today, I just settle into my own pace. To be fair, I never start fast and so I'm not too disheartened....maybe I'll catch them later.

After the initial up, there's a quick descent through the trees back to the starting point and, here, I go flying past a lass who'd been 1st lady on the initial climb. As I go past, she says "I'm rubbish on the descents" but, sure enough, as we head back onto more even ground, she's away past me at an excellent pace.

We head off road again, and up a rough track and I start to reel in the first 3 ladies, who are just ahead of me and only a few yards apart from each other. As we reach the highest point in the glen, we turn down the tarmac road for about half a mile. As much as I dislike tarmac, I'm not losing time and places here and settle in running side by side with one of the lasses, trying to match her fast pace.

We head off-road again, and Margaret Rose is there shouting encouragement. Or, in my case, shouting "come on Richard, you're being beaten by a 17 year old girl!". Whether that spurs me on, or whether the slightly rougher ground and slight downhill is suiting me more, I move past both her and the fast Lochaber lass, Amanda, and start to gain on the 1st placed female runner, who is just ahead.

The race really moves off-path here, picking up trods across the boggy ground and you're never quite sure which way to go next. Plans to follow a local are scuppered when I turn a corner to find I can't see the two runners ahead - they must have nipped around a corned or over a hill and out of sight.

I've passed the first placed lady now, but she's running just behind, and we spur each other on. A few words are exchanged and it seems she's following me 'cause she thinks I know where I'm going - I put her right on that! But we plough on regardless, having to slow or even stop a couple of times when the way ahead isn't at all obvious. This allows the runners behind us to start catching us, and neither of us seem keen on that idea, so into the trees we go with renewed effort to make sure we increase the gap again.

Eventually, we emerge back near the start point of the race (albeit on the other side of the burn). I stay to the right of the barbed wire fence, she crosses a small stile and nips over to the left. This proves to be a good move on her part, I end up having to backtrack slightly to get over the fence and onto a much more even riverbank path. This slight gap is all she needs and, back on even terrain, she's off.

I try to stay with her, but tiredness is kicking in. Although the knee hasn't bothered me at all, I begin to feel tightness in my right thigh, presumably as a result of having favoured that leg. I glance back to see if I can see runners behind me. They're there alright, but a wee way back.

This is one of those moments in a race that defines how you do on the day.Things aren't quite right, you're beginning to feel the pace. You have two choices. Give in to it, steady yourself down, start to feel every ache and pain in your body, lose a couple of places and just resign yourself to a bad day at the office. Or kick again, put aside all negative thoughts and realise that, with only a couple of miles to go, your body will do what you tell it to. There's always more in reserve than you think there is.

If there's one thing I have taken from the BG more than anything else, it's that ability to choose the latter option, to know that there's always more to give. Plus I'm a competitive old sod, I'd like to beat the first lady! And off I go, digging deep, flowing well, reading the ground nicely and picking a good line along the muddy banks of the river, catching her slightly, certainly enough (with a mile to go) to think I can still do it.

And then we come up off the riverbank and onto tarmac for the last mile.

Anyone who's done the Ben race will know all about the tarmac road heading back towards Claggan Park. No matter how well you've raced up and down the hill, the tarmac will get you. The legs turn to jelly, even the slight undulations leave you wanting and you endure agonies which 4400ft of ascent and descent can't inflict on you.

And so it is today. Up onto the road, looking for an increase in pace, and there is nothing there. The legs, which have been skipping along the muddy banks, suddenly turn to lead weights. The runner in front clearly feels otherwise though, she's off, visibly increasing the gap. I have no choice but to admit defeat on this one and my focus turns towards what (or rather who) may be behind me. I get far enough down the road to turn and take a look, and I'm relieved to see nobody. I'd pretty much have to stop and crawl to be overtaken now.

So I cruise in, pleased to have had a decent race, glad to have finished. I go over and congratulate the lass who finished in front. We have a wee chat and she tells me that she's not the best on the rougher ground, especially the downhills, but I tell her there's no need to be when you have a turn of pace like she has on the more even terrain. In particular, I tell her, what was impressive was how much speed she still had after 7 miles.

We chat a wee bit more, she tells me that she's recently moved to Aviemore but is seemingly struggling to find a club locally. I mention Cairngorm Runners, but she's not sure they are fast enough, but that she knows people like Manny etc who she can sometimes run with. At this point, I'm wanting to head back up the road to see Kirsten in and she's off to get her lift home and, as we go, she "introduces" herself as Lucy and I tell her my name.

Kirsten comes in, looking absolutely shattered, having put in a good effort. We change in the car and head for a wee coffee in Cobbs, before heading back home to take the dogs out and then settle down for an afternoon on the sofa!

I'm not sure how, why or at what point something clicked in my head. My friend Ryan is always on about her. She's some kind of a running goddess to him. I swear a glazed look comes across his face when he mentions her name! Google. What did we do without it? Luckily, John has put some photos of the race up already and I place one side by side with the image that comes up on google and me and Kirsten are in no doubt.

I've just told a GB endurance athlete, the female record holder for the 95 mile WHW race, winner of the 53 mile Highland Fling on numerous occasions, and just all-round top long-distance runner Lucy Colquhoun that she has a "good turn of pace" and did well to keep it going over 7 miles!