No, not Madonna on the iPod. More a train of thought...
For the first time in Janathon, I’m writing my blog before I go running. From a seed of an idea planted by MTB endurophile Gary T, I’ve found a map of a route I’ve run only once, and here I am, pre-visualising myself running it once again.
I ran this route in 2009 (or was it 2008?). Highlighted on a photocopied map, scribbled over with notes, and afterwards, stashed in a box, presumably for a day like today. I suspect from the notations that this route was a summer walk suggestion, lifted from a parish magazine or guidebook. Good walks often make great runs, and a number of my favourites begin their lives this way, before being adopted, amended, or as in this case, instantly forgotten.
My memory of this particular loop is almost totally absent, but I find it interesting that certain aspects have stuck. I know I ran it in daylight, but only because I remember driving away from the station car park afterwards. I also know it was summer, because I recall pausing early-on to adjust my waistpack, which was loaded with over a litre of water, and rubbing on my shirtless back.
For the first time in Janathon, I’m writing my blog before I go running. From a seed of an idea planted by MTB endurophile Gary T, I’ve found a map of a route I’ve run only once, and here I am, pre-visualising myself running it once again.
I ran this route in 2009 (or was it 2008?). Highlighted on a photocopied map, scribbled over with notes, and afterwards, stashed in a box, presumably for a day like today. I suspect from the notations that this route was a summer walk suggestion, lifted from a parish magazine or guidebook. Good walks often make great runs, and a number of my favourites begin their lives this way, before being adopted, amended, or as in this case, instantly forgotten.
My memory of this particular loop is almost totally absent, but I find it interesting that certain aspects have stuck. I know I ran it in daylight, but only because I remember driving away from the station car park afterwards. I also know it was summer, because I recall pausing early-on to adjust my waistpack, which was loaded with over a litre of water, and rubbing on my shirtless back.
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| Plank bridge (photo by Tom) |
I also have the vaguest recollection of a mental note that I made afterwards, but tantalisingly, I remember two distinct options. It was either “Best run in a clockwise direction”, or possibly, “Avoid in winter”. Needless to say, I’ll be running clockwise tonight, hoping that it wasn’t the latter.
And it’s uncertainties like this which are the nub of today’s thoughts. Sometimes, I can remember intricacies of a route, almost footstep by footstep, even if I’m a hundred miles away. Others can be recalled only whilst I’m running them, so I know which way to turn, but only as I arrive at each junction. Some leave almost no trace at all.
Does a route become memorable because it was particularly good (or bad)?
Is it more memorable if the runner needs to concentrate throughout – on navigation, or pace?
Is it then possible that the best routes might be the most forgetable?
Many runners talk of moments of being “in the groove” or “zoning out”, and often, the ability to do this for lengths of time can be the measure of a good run, and often an indication of running well. Some runners crave this feeling, and hence only ever run the same routes, at the same pace, at the same time of day to help the autopilot engage. Whether it’s the “Saturday morning loop”, or the “Wet weather circuit”, we all wear our little grooves into our normal routes, into which we can habitually slot ourselves and slip away.
I prefer to combine these grooves with a little adventure. For me, familiarity is a comfort, but the unfamiliar is a passion. Above all, I appreciate the balance: routes, seasons, terrain, people. I may not remember them all, but I remember how much better they can make me feel.
Groovy.
I prefer to combine these grooves with a little adventure. For me, familiarity is a comfort, but the unfamiliar is a passion. Above all, I appreciate the balance: routes, seasons, terrain, people. I may not remember them all, but I remember how much better they can make me feel.
Groovy.
If I may, I'll take the liberty of being the post-run editor of this blog. As we drove to the start of the run Gary explained that he'd chosen this particular route because he recalled that it was nothing special, that he hadn't particularly enjoyed running it in an anti-clockwise rotation and that he vaguely remembered that it would make a really bad winter route. Go on... sell it to me!
ReplyDeleteIt's funny how the memory works. At the end of the route I couldn't disagree that the clockwise route was certainly a better one. It got the less scenic bit out of the way early on and left the steep downhill (what would have been agonising uphill had we gone the other way) until the end. As for a summer route - it depends whether you're a glass-half-full or glass-half-empty kind of person. All I can say is that 3 inches of claggy clay and green sand stuck to the bottom of your shoes makes for fantastic resistance training and exciting descents! It was an even clearer night then we had on Friday and I marvelled at the sky; and cursed that Polaris seemed to be directly above and therefore completely useless in orientating me (Gary had both map and compass). Instead I focussed on keeping a couple of mental tallies going. Wildlife wise we saw 22 ponies, 17 sheep, 12 cows, 3 dogs, 2 cats, 1 owl (close enough that I could almost grab it off its post) and a deer. However, I lost count after the first mile of the number of stiles we had to climb over. It wouldn't be over estimating to say that over 11 miles we must have climbed 50+. In addition there were 20+ kissing gates (we managed to resist), 15 or so more traditional hinge and thumb lock gates; of which, and I s*#t you not, 7 were in the space of 75 yards! It was like something out of the Crystal Maze as we took 3 paces, scrabbled for the catch, opened, both walk through, closed, 3 more paces, scrabble for another lock etc etc. I've never before got to the end of such a run and not needed to stretch my hamstrings as they'd had such a workout.
Needless to say Gary loved it. Well done to all your other Janathoners out there. Really impressive stuff.
Sounds like really good fun, I like exploring new routes and revisiting old routes.
ReplyDeleteWhat Tom failed to mention:
ReplyDeleteFor the second time in as many runs we found ourselves staring at a "footpath closed" barricade in a key location. This time round, the bridge that was under repair was missing the vital component of any horizontal bits, and was hanging over a railway. Once again, Tom applied some lateral thinking, and we negotiated the barrier, scrambled down a slope onto a station platform, and crossed via the station bridge instead.
He's a bad influence that Phillips :)