There's a strong connection between Tasmania and Ireland and its troubles due mostly to the Irish political prisoners who were transported (exiled) to Van Dieman's Land (Tasmania) in the 1840s. To this day you can still visit the cottage at Port Arthur that William Smith O'Brien was exiled to in the bad old days. I've also visited places such as Maria Island, perhaps the worst (and probably least known) of the convict sites over here. As if it wasn't bad enough transporting your political opponents on a hulk to the far side of the planet, they then sent them to the southern most island at the end of the planet, then to an even smaller, more remote uninhabited island (Maria), then frog marched them 20 kilometres to an isolated, barren peninsula at the furthest end of Maria, then at the end of that peninsula, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, they incarcerated the poor bastards in tiny, solitary confinement cells barely long enough to lie down in. When you visit that place (and hardly anyone does due to its remoteness), you understand that hell is probably something like that (see attached pic). Very remote, very, very pointless and unspeakably cruel. Smith O'Brien spent time there before being sent to Port Arthur, perhaps to make him better "appreciate" the relative luxury of "cottage arrest" in the penal station.
Senseless cruelty.
The photo shows the cells on Maria Island, surrounded by barren land and shark-infested, freezing waters. Just one row of cells for ten of the "worst" convicts, a day's walk from the nearest other human. Why they had to incarcerate them in such tiny cells when there was nowhere for them to escape to is probably beyond the comprehension of all but the most evil of minds.
Well, it eludes me anyway.
But if that's how the Brits treated the Irish, it's no wonder there was trouble. Of course, why groups like the IRA had to retaliate in such brutal fashion beggars belief. Nothing is simple I suppose when contemplating "the troubles". Except for those cells on Maria Island. Nothing complicated there...
The photo shows the cells on Maria Island, surrounded by barren land and shark-infested, freezing waters. Just one row of cells for ten of the "worst" convicts, a day's walk from the nearest other human. Why they had to incarcerate them in such tiny cells when there was nowhere for them to escape to is probably beyond the comprehension of all but the most evil of minds.
Well, it eludes me anyway.
Obvious present day parallels with Guantanamo here...? it's depressing to think we ain't exactly evolving much!
Not sure if this is common knowledge but I read about this fellow Sam Thompson, a native of Mississippi, who recently completed 51 marathons in 50 days. His aim was to raise awareness of suffering in his home state folowing the devastation caused by hurricane Katrina.
He ran a marathon in each of 50 states on consecutive days, finishing with two on the same day. Remarkably he got quicker (and fitter) with each run, suffered no injury and lived on a diet of sandwiches, pasta and ice-cream. His best time was 3:29, in New Orleans two days before he finished.
Sweder Wrote:He ran a marathon in each of 50 states on consecutive days, finishing with two on the same day. Remarkably he got quicker (and fitter) with each run, suffered no injury and lived on a diet of sandwiches, pasta and ice-cream. His best time was 3:29, in New Orleans two days before he finished.
I've sussed it all out. Running's not about training, at least not in the physical sense. It's about attitude. If your attitude's not right, your running becomes like a surly teenager or a petulant child, and refuses to play along by the rules.
When I was training for London, I put my running in front of lots of other things. I made time for it; let it dictate the timetable. As a result, it liked me, felt grateful for the respect I was showing it, and improved.
Since then, things have changed. I wrote a book - running took second place. I went on holiday - much the same (though I did get out every other day). I got back, and had to do a fortnight of interviews about the book - running didn't dominate like it would have hoped. God forbid, I've even spent some time with the family, instead of heading for the hills every day. Essentially, I made my running feel less than important.
Now, during all this time, I've still got out two or three times a week, and then for decent plods. All in all, I've kept it ticking over quite impressively, given the time I've had spare. So what do I get as a reward? I run like a sack of spuds. I run as if I'd spent the last three months on the couch necking beer and doughnuts, while smoking three cigarettes at once.
This deterioration isn't physical - I've done enough to keep me relatively fit. No, this is because I haven't let my running feel important enough, so it's paying me back by being rubbish. Put simply, my running is sulking.
We read all these books and magazines, advice from experts and tips from fellow runners, and we kid ourselves it's all logical. It's not folks. Running is not a pastime, a hobby or an addiction - it's a thing, a thing with real, nasty sneaky habits, and if you stop treating it with kid gloves, it can't wait to bite you on the arse and sulk.
MickCollins Wrote:...my running's feelings, that is...
I've sussed it all out. Running's not about training, at least not in the physical sense. It's about attitude. If your attitude's not right, your running becomes like a surly teenager or a petulant child, and refuses to play along by the rules.
When I was training for London, I put my running in front of lots of other things. I made time for it; let it dictate the timetable. As a result, it liked me, felt grateful for the respect I was showing it, and improved.
Since then, things have changed. I wrote a book - running took second place. I went on holiday - much the same (though I did get out every other day). I got back, and had to do a fortnight of interviews about the book - running didn't dominate like it would have hoped. God forbid, I've even spent some time with the family, instead of heading for the hills every day. Essentially, I made my running feel less than important.
Now, during all this time, I've still got out two or three times a week, and then for decent plods. All in all, I've kept it ticking over quite impressively, given the time I've had spare. So what do I get as a reward? I run like a sack of spuds. I run as if I'd spent the last three months on the couch necking beer and doughnuts, while smoking three cigarettes at once.
This deterioration isn't physical - I've done enough to keep me relatively fit. No, this is because I haven't let my running feel important enough, so it's paying me back by being rubbish. Put simply, my running is sulking.
We read all these books and magazines, advice from experts and tips from fellow runners, and we kid ourselves it's all logical. It's not folks. Running is not a pastime, a hobby or an addiction - it's a thing, a thing with real, nasty sneaky habits, and if you stop treating it with kid gloves, it can't wait to bite you on the arse and sulk.
You heard it here first... :mad:
Interesting perspective, Mick. If you're right, then I've done a lot worse than bruise my running's feelings. My fear is that that I've murdered the poor bugger.
I like the idea that running itself has a beating heart. We always knew that the sole was important, but the soul? In my limited (and 5 years isn't that much) experience, I've almost never been more than 2 weeks away from a run, looking in both directions. The one exception may have been when my calf injury forced me to take 6 weeks out.
Anyway, it was never long enough to feel truly detached from it - mentally or physically. 3 or 4 weeks away from the little fella, and I'd be punished alright, but another run and I'd be finding my groove; I'd be getting my own modest little eye in once more.
After 4 months away, I'm finding it very tough indeed. It's not just a hurdle to leap over at the 2nd or 3rd attempt anymore. It's a brick wall that needs dismantling. It's like that old video game - "Breakout". You have to knock out the bricks faster than they get created. Once you get in front, you can easily stay in front. But once you drop behind schedule, you can be rapidly subsumed by the things. Overwhelmed. It's always 2 steps forward, 3 steps back.
I want to make light of it; to make the usual hearty, blokish remarks about pubs and pints of beer. But here I am, in a rather desperate position and I don't know quite how to deal with it.
What you wrote doesn't solve my problem, but it helps to rationalise it - and thanks for that. I'm not after sympathy, and I'm not being fatalistic. I have to get back into running because I feel so lost without it, yet I'm having major difficulties.
I'm nearly 2 stone heavier than I was when I ran Zurich, only 5 months ago. It's ping-pong logic. I can't run because I'm so overweight, and I'm so overweight because I can't run. It's a mental thing. Perhaps learning to love that little fella again will be a good new way of breaking through the walls of the maze.
On another subject completely, don't be shy -- what's the book? I know I could google it, but no harm in attracting a bit of publicity.
And that reminds me - something I meant to ask you ages ago. Do you have any idea what happened to Julie Welch? For those not in the know, JW was the first female football reporter for a national newspaper (Observer I seem to recall, back in the 70s or 80s). Tottenham fan. But she also wrote the best running book I ever read -- "26.2" -- about the London Marathon. She used to contribute to various running forums on the web, but then seemed to disappear. She lives (or used to) and runs (or used to) in Blackheath.
I'm off to have a glass of wine and a deep think.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
andy Wrote:I'm off to have a glass of wine and a deep think.
Deep Thought . . . two million years to create a super-computer and all you get is 'forty-two'.
No words of solace here my friend; the answer's waiting 'out there' along the canal, on the rain-soaked streets, in the leafy lanes.
Or perhaps its not.
After my first Marathon I took a six month sabatical from running. I finally took up arms against corpulence after Christmas 2003 to start my second FLM campaign. It was tough; almost too tough. I figured it would be easier; I'd risen from the sofa twelve months before, shackled to SP in his mad quest to run the 26.2. But it was tougher, much, much tougher. As a virgin you have no concept of the pain and struggle you must endure to get up to respectable mileage. A year on I was only too painfully aware of the price to be paid. Still I did it, through gritted teeth and many dissappointingly slow journeys around local streets, running at night to avoid public shame.
Only this year and last have I continued running through the year, at times simply to keep my hand - or feet - in. I think there's real value in a trial separation, banishing the obsession. The trouble is it comes back, and its pissed off, makes unreasonable demands.
What if it doesn't come back?
What's the worst that can happen?
Maybe you're cured - perhaps you looked the Sweeper Driver in the eye back in Zurich and saw right through him and his ilk, made some faustian pact right there and then, wheeled and dealed for that clean break. Think of all those hours you'll save, those cold winter nights you can stay snuggled up in front of the fire, supping good wine or foaming ale, reading about the poor lost souls battling the elements in pursuit of negligable glories.
You have, after all, one helluva mountain to climb. Yessiree Bob.
All you have to do is start. Start and suffer. Suffer, suffer, suffer.
Until that wonderful day when it feels just a tiny bit easier.
By the way, registration opens on Friday
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Sweder Wrote:Deep Thought . . . two million years to create a super-computer and all you get is 'forty-two'.
No words of solace here my friend; the answer's waiting 'out there' along the canal, on the rain-soaked streets, in the leafy lanes.
Or perhaps its not.
After my first Marathon I took a six month sabatical from running. I finally took up arms against corpulence after Christmas 2003 to start my second FLM campaign. It was tough; almost too tough. I figured it would be easier; I'd risen from the sofa twelve months before, shackled to SP in his mad quest to run the 26.2. But it was tougher, much, much tougher. As a virgin you have no concept of the pain and struggle you must endure to get up to respectable mileage. A year on I was only too painfully aware of the price to be paid. Still I did it, through gritted teeth and many dissappointingly slow journeys around local streets, running at night to avoid public shame.
Only this year and last have I continued running through the year, at times simply to keep my hand - or feet - in. I think there's real value in a trial separation, banishing the obsession. The trouble is it comes back, and its pissed off, makes unreasonable demands.
What if it doesn't come back?
What's the worst that can happen?
Maybe you're cured - perhaps you looked the Sweeper Driver in the eye back in Zurich and saw right through him and his ilk, made some faustian pact right there and then, wheeled and dealed for that clean break. Think of all those hours you'll save, those cold winter nights you can stay snuggled up in front of the fire, supping good wine or foaming ale, reading about the poor lost souls battling the elements in pursuit of negligable glories.
You have, after all, one helluva mountain to climb. Yessiree Bob.
All you have to do is start. Start and suffer. Suffer, suffer, suffer.
Until that wonderful day when it feels just a tiny bit easier.
By the way, registration opens on Friday
Well first of all Sweder, good news about the registration. I'll be there.
Again, excellent sentiments, and I'm glad to read them. The thing is though, I don't regard running as a daunting enemy that I need to fight off or feel glad about having abandoned. It's more like a feisty lover that I've had one tiff too many with. I'm expecting her to come crawling back but (gulp) perhaps it's for me to make amends this time.
It's not getting out the door that's the trouble. I've done that at least a dozen times now. It's that something isn't sticking. Every outing is a discrete mountain. Nothing I did yesterday seems to help how I feel today.
I don't want to sound like I'm whining. Running is bloody fantastic, and I need to get it back. I will get it back. I've just forgotten how to do it.
I'll be there in Capetown next April.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
andy Wrote:It's not getting out the door that's the trouble. I've done that at least a dozen times now. It's that something isn't sticking. Every outing is a discrete mountain. Nothing I did yesterday seems to help how I feel today.
Maybe you need to make the mountain smaller. If at first you don't succeed, redefine success. Try walking for a month instead of running? I know that walkers are a lower class of lifeform than runners, but we all have to slum it occasionally.
I guess the problem is that running's as much about the sense of progress and achievement as it is about actually doing it. So make the goals achievable.
All this talk of Running as a sentient being has familar echoes of past discussions. It's been said many times that Running finds you out. If you're injured, if you're undertrained, you can pretend that you're fit but the Running will bring home the truth to you. One statement that leaps off the screen at me is that you're two stone heavier than Zurich. Imagine doing all your Zurich training while giving a piggy-back to a small child - no wonder you're a long way off where you were. I know you're aware of all this, as you say "I can't run because I'm so overweight, and I'm so overweight because I can't run" - but it seems that this is what the Running is telling you. I think the reality is that if you want to get into training for Two Oceans, you need to go back to square one - very modest goals, walk/run routines, etc.
Forgive the bluntness - it's the Running talking.
PS - people might get the wrong idea when you talk about learning to love your little fella again.
PPS - interesting you mentioned Julie Welch; I've just read 26.2 (and have a very brief review sitting on my hard drive) and wasn't over-impressed. I thought the runners' backstories were fascinating, but I felt it was light on running content. I preferred The Looniness of the Long-Distance Runner, which starts somewhat knockabout but becomes wiser and more serious as the runs get longer.
Having read 'Looniness' (thanks SP) but not '26.2' I can't offer comparison.
All I will say is don't judge a running book until or unless you've read 'Feet In The Clouds' by Richard Askwith. I've read it twice now, and I still can't decide if I'm inspired or daunted by it. A bit of both I suspect. What I do know is I loved it almost as much as I enjoyed BB's race-by-installments epic - read it at http://www.runningcommentary.co.uk/forum....php?t=971 - one of the most enjoyable threads I've found anywhere on the joys of running.
I do know how Andy feels though.
When you've been through the 'back to running' agonies a few times you expect the 'magic' will return, wait for the mystical 'sign', some affirmation that your hard work is paying off. When that doesn't arrive - or, as in this case, takes longer than expected - you wonder if it will. Its a bit like a top striker going through a barren spell; all he needs is one goal, a 'shinner' or one that bounces in off his arse - anything to make him believe that he will score again. We need a wee sign, a glow, a tiny rush of endorphins, the feeling that, yes, I'd actually quite like to do that again . . . anything to tell us our efforts are making a difference.
It'll be hard for Andy carrying all that extra lard.
But all the more satisfying when the moment arrives.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Sweder Wrote:I do know how Andy feels though.
When you've been through the 'back to running' agonies a few times you expect the 'magic' will return, wait for the mystical 'sign', some affirmation that your hard work is paying off.
Yes I know what you mean (although I'm not as experienced a layer-off as you), but my point is that after a six-month lay-off you're almost back to being a beginner again. You've got the experience, and you've probably got some toughened muscles, joints and feet, but CV-wise you probably need to go back to basics.
Sweder Wrote:It'll be hard for Andy carrying all that extra lard.
What I like most about this forum is the sensitivity of the support given to fellow members.
When I first started running I couldn't bring myself to actually run so I started doing long walks. I used to walk back from work occassionally and do some hill walking.
And when I first got the idea of running a marathon my first step was to start cycling part of the way to work; then all the way; then I started running.
I did an 8 mile circuit up Simon's Seat on Saturday. The first running I'd done for a long time. But cycling to work 3 times a week has kept me in touch and it felt ok.
I think a diet of swimming, cycling and yoga for a month could be a good precursor to the dreaded run. Loosen yourself up abit.
Plus fasting every other day.
Only joking.
However long it takes Andy you're bound to come back stronger given your considerable running achievements over the last 5 years.
When I first started running I couldn't bring myself to actually run so I started doing long walks. I used to walk back from work occassionally and do some hill walking.
And when I first got the idea of running a marathon my first step was to start cycling part of the way to work; then all the way; then I started running.
I did an 8 mile circuit up Simon's Seat on Saturday. The first running I'd done for a long time. But cycling to work 3 times a week has kept me in touch and it felt ok.
I think a diet of swimming, cycling and yoga for a month could be a good precursor to the dreaded run. Loosen yourself up abit.
Plus fasting every other day.
Only joking.
However long it takes Andy you're bound to come back stronger given your considerable running achievements over the last 5 years.
Yeah, cheers GM. I'm not sure that walking and cycling are exactly right for me, but I take your point (made by others too) that I may have to go back to basics. Might even have to dust down my old run-walk schedule though I'd hope it won't take me 8 months to get to 3 miles as it did in 2001. The best thing I could do, without doubt, is shed a few pounds though I'm finding it tough in my new workplace which has a really good restaurant, and chocolate machines everywhere. Bastards.
But I need to stop making excuses. I started off with a genuine one - I was ill through much of the summer - but now it's time to act.
Thanks for the encouragement everyone. It really is much appreciated.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
andy Wrote:Interesting perspective, Mick. If you're right, then I've done a lot worse than bruise my running's feelings. My fear is that that I've murdered the poor bugger.
I like the idea that running itself has a beating heart. We always knew that the sole was important, but the soul? In my limited (and 5 years isn't that much) experience, I've almost never been more than 2 weeks away from a run, looking in both directions. The one exception may have been when my calf injury forced me to take 6 weeks out.
Anyway, it was never long enough to feel truly detached from it - mentally or physically. 3 or 4 weeks away from the little fella, and I'd be punished alright, but another run and I'd be finding my groove; I'd be getting my own modest little eye in once more.
After 4 months away, I'm finding it very tough indeed. It's not just a hurdle to leap over at the 2nd or 3rd attempt anymore. It's a brick wall that needs dismantling. It's like that old video game - "Breakout". You have to knock out the bricks faster than they get created. Once you get in front, you can easily stay in front. But once you drop behind schedule, you can be rapidly subsumed by the things. Overwhelmed. It's always 2 steps forward, 3 steps back.
I want to make light of it; to make the usual hearty, blokish remarks about pubs and pints of beer. But here I am, in a rather desperate position and I don't know quite how to deal with it.
What you wrote doesn't solve my problem, but it helps to rationalise it - and thanks for that. I'm not after sympathy, and I'm not being fatalistic. I have to get back into running because I feel so lost without it, yet I'm having major difficulties.
I'm nearly 2 stone heavier than I was when I ran Zurich, only 5 months ago. It's ping-pong logic. I can't run because I'm so overweight, and I'm so overweight because I can't run. It's a mental thing. Perhaps learning to love that little fella again will be a good new way of breaking through the walls of the maze.
On another subject completely, don't be shy -- what's the book? I know I could google it, but no harm in attracting a bit of publicity.
And that reminds me - something I meant to ask you ages ago. Do you have any idea what happened to Julie Welch? For those not in the know, JW was the first female football reporter for a national newspaper (Observer I seem to recall, back in the 70s or 80s). Tottenham fan. But she also wrote the best running book I ever read -- "26.2" -- about the London Marathon. She used to contribute to various running forums on the web, but then seemed to disappear. She lives (or used to) and runs (or used to) in Blackheath.
I'm off to have a glass of wine and a deep think.
Andy,
In no particular order...!
I don't know what Julie Welch is doing now. I know her husband used to be sports editor of the Telegraph, and he's just left to become an agent. I also know that you're quite right about '26.2', because I read it a few months back, and thought it was wonderful. She was good enough and brave enough to let people tell their own stories, and not to intrude too much herself. It made for a fantastically honest book.
I don't know if I was attempting to solve any problems with my analysis of my running, as much as reflect a (hopefully) temporary lull I seem to be going through. I think what it's told me is that I need to concentrate to get better, not just run. I don't know why it makes a difference, especially at so low a level of ability, but when I take it seriously, my running seems to improve, and when I do precisely the same sessions, but while relaxed and slightly more removed from the sport, I get worse. Given that all the physical elements seem to be the same, it leads me to feel that there's some other, more surreal reason, for the way my performances fluctuate - as if my running is a distinct character with a personality of its own and a dislike of being ignored!
When I ran London, you told me I'd realise the value of it months later, when it would suddenly dawn on me one day. You were right, and now I've got to bat the same piece of advice back to you. The value of that sub 5hr run, and all the pain that went with it, is that it serves as a reminder of what you can do, what you've achieved, and why you should go out again and start plodding. You can feel like you did that night after you finished in Zurich again, but only if you get out and do the first few strides - only if you just get started again. As you make the move to get changed and get out the door, that's the time to remember how good it felt. Once you've started, keeping going is far simpler!
Lastly, then, the book plug. It's called 'All Round Genius', by me, Mick Collins, and it's the story of the greatest all round sportsman this country ever did or will produce, and how nobody has ever heard of him. It's available on Amazon, here -
And a few other places, who now keep their content as subscription only!
I think it's reviewed in Observer Sports Monthly on Sunday. It's going well, life's absurdly hectic as a result, and I've nothing to complain about. Apart from my running...
