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Moves Like Haile (I wish…)

I went for my second run today. I headed out on the same route as last weekend, and was quite pleased with how I did. I got further up the last hill before giving in and walking, and when I reached the top, instead of collapsing against the nearest tree, I started running again, and got to the end of the fire trail, turned around, and ran back. While I did chunks of walking on the return journey, I ran more of it than I did last week – which was reflected in the fact I went further, in 5 minutes less. :D

My calves did let me know almost immediately that they hadn’t yet quite recovered from last weekend’s working-out. This unfortunately did mean the run wasn’t quite as enjoyable as it could have been, as I was conscious of my calves for most of the run. On the other hand, that led to quite focused consideration of my stride, which was interesting.

One particular thing I noticed was that the more like Haile Gebrselassie I ran (or rather, tried to run :P ) the more comfortable my calves were. The only problem was that after a few km of running, I lacked the cardio-respiratory oomph to do so for very long at all, and so had to revert to slower and smaller strides, not picking up my feet behind anywhere near as much.

I mention Gebrselassie not because he’s unique in his running style, but simply as an exemplar of excellent (and beautiful) running, and one who I have been checking out in videos lately. It was really interesting to me just how much better it felt to run like that – and particularly how much more comfortable my (quite sore) calves felt.

I was pleased to note that when I did walk briefly, my heart rate dropped quicker than I expected – and quicker than I think it did even a week ago. So I do hold out some hope I might be able to sustain the “Moves Like Haile” for longer as time goes on. ;)

Plus, I’m still enjoying it. In fact I’m finding myself breaking into a run at random times, just because I happen to feel like it at the time. 8)

Born (Again) to Run

For some reason, I’ve begun to run. I don’t really know whence the desire has sprung – nor that of my wife, who at pretty much the same time, has developed the same desire to run – but have chosen not to question it. Yes, my father has been a runner all his life, and when younger I made some abortive attempts at getting into running, but it was never sustained – probably because I never especially enjoyed it. This time, the difference is that I’m not wanting to run in the service of any other aim: not to lose/maintain weight (as much as I want to do so); not to get fit (as much as I want to do that); and not even to keep diabetes as far away as possible (as much as I am desperate to do so).

This time I just want to run.

I think a number of things have come together to create this desire. Being surrounded by the wonderful landscape of the Blue Mountains; my parents talking enthusiastically about Christopher McDougall’s book “Born to Run”; my enjoyment of the motion and freedom I found in starting mountain biking; my delight in my children’s energy and activity; and also I think my cynical demoralisation with modern society and failing politics (thus a drive towards the basic, simple, natural parts of existence).

I then read Born to Run.

When I finish some books, there is a real sense of loss, as I can no longer look forward to reading them. Born to Run was like that, and I was reading it at exactly the right time, as it reinforced my nascent urge to run. In fact, when I finished it at 11:30 on a cold dark almost-winter night, the only reason I didn’t get up that instant to go for a run – seriously, the only reason – was that I was in the midst of a nasty cold and couldn’t breathe very well. So I waited till a couple of mornings later I woke up able to breathe, and went then.

Back a day however, my wife and I had been to buy new running shoes. Reading Born to Run had left me thoroughly convinced that modern running shoes, with their airbag-laden, microprocessor-controlled, anti-pronation over-cushioned extremes were at the root of many of the problems we humans seem to encounter when we run. It seems bizarre to me now, that we’ve accepted the notion that running means inevitable injury for us. Honestly, how could we have survived as a species if we truly were so physically pathetic and fragile? So I decided I was going to go for a minimalistic shoe (that many people are describing, without a discernible trace of irony, as “barefoot shoes”). I ended up getting a pair of Merrell Road Gloves – and wore them out of the shop. They felt great from the moment I put them on.

Next day. A run. Thought I’d conk out pretty damn quickly, but surprised myself, and ended up going (mostly running, but some walking on the return journey) for 40 minutes, covering somewhere around 5 km. One thing sticks out for me above everything else: no shin splints.

Every time – literally every time – I have gone for a run since I was a teenager, I have ended up with aching shins (if nothing else). Hot and sore feet would usually feature strongly as well, as would aching knees – particularly after I busted the medial meniscus (cartilage) in one knee, and eventually had to give in and get part of it removed.

This time, nothing. Well, my calves have been letting me know they got a workout (landing on the forefoot instead of the heel, means the impact is absorbed differently; the calves have some work to do), but absolutely no pain – notably in my shins, heels, or knees. In fact I felt – and still feel – fantastic: really energised, and frankly, hanging out for my next run.

My point (if I have one) is that I think the arguments McDougall lays out in Born to Run make a lot of sense: that humans are running animals; that in fact we need to run. The fact that most of us have largely stopped doing so, may well underlie many of the problems we face (obesity, diabetes, cardiac disease, some cancers…). I have come to accept that I cannot change our political system, our society, or even the interminable self-perpetuating bureaucracy that interferes with adequate delivery of health care.

But I can run.

And I can do my best to make sure my kids (who like all children, run all the time) don’t stop running.

The rest will be as it will be, but I think – as the title – I’ve been Born Again to Run. xP

Oh, and this is where I went for my first run in who-knows-how-many years: ;-)

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Weeds that Tumble

Yes, that’s right: a badly-drawn tumbleweed is all that’s here at the moment. XP

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Lateral Thinking Monkey

I like this lateral thinking.

 

My six year old daughter brought home some homework yesterday. She rocked through two days’ worth yesterday afternoon, and another this morning – but that’s not what really pleases me.

 

One of the pages she did yesterday included an exercise wherein she was to circle the odd one out of a number of pictures: a bunch of things that hop, and a dog. Her first impulse however, was to choose the frog, as all the others have fur. When my wife asked her if there was another possibility, she identified the hopping, and circled the dog. I’m pleased with that, but that wasn’t even the main thing for me.

 

There was an exercise in the one she did this morning that required her to circle the pictures of things beginning with A, and colour in those of things beginning with M. There was a chimp. She chose to colour it in.

 

We had a talk in which I tried to explain at some level that it is indeed a monkey, but is also an ape (I couldn’t go all the way into cladistic classification with her, both because she’s six, and because I don’t really understand it thoroughly enough myself xP ) so either would, technically, be correct. Then I was talking about it with my wife, and mentioned that at school they probably tell them to differentiate between monkeys and apes based on the presence or absence of a tail (neglecting Old World Monkeys of course) … whereupon Miss 6 announced she had now drawn a tail on it to make it a monkey – thus removing any ape/monkey ambiguity.

 

I reckon that was a great solution. 8)

 

Well that hurt rather a lot…

I now have a better appreciation for why my little son was so distressed when he got bitten by a mahoosive ant (about an inch long). 
 
I was gardening this morning, and picked up a handful of grass and clover I had pulled out. At first I thought something in the weeds must have had a thorn, but the pain quickly intensified, leading me to release my grip and drop the weeds – whereupon I saw the ant attached to my palm.
 
And yes, I do mean attached.
 
Seriously, for a while it felt like I’d never play the guitar again. Happily I was aware that beyond pain these ant bites don’t do anything unpleasant – but the pain really is quite unpleasant enough. ;)
 
Aggressive little sods.

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