D'you know something, I am nearly prouder of this 'muddle-through' week with all its imperfection, trudging and negotiation than I have been of easier, smoother weeks. 'Muddle-through' was a phrase used by a Spiritual Director of mine, one time, when I was young and idealistic and troubled by lack of perfection. He suggested that much of life is 'muddling through'. I wasn't sure I agreed, but it's one of those odd little moments which, for no reason, stuck with me. I wouldn't like to be known as a 'mudlle-through' person for all aspects of my life, but I'm willing to take it for these weeks of long, many-miles-to-cover, running. These two weeks are the peak of the programme really. There are 17 miles to be covered on Saturday. Next week, the short runs become 5 (x 2), the middle distance run is an 8 and the long distance is 18. Then, it's a recovery week. Followed by the week of the 19-mile long run where the middle run is only 5. There's a recovery week and then the all-important week of the 20-mile run, again with only 5 miles in the middle run. Then, it's taper back time. So, you can see how these two weeks are the most challenging. Next week alone, for instance, I am supposed to run, over the 4 runs, 36 miles in total.
The difficulty is that it doesn't leave much time for 'recovering' so that I am heading into a run tired from the very beginning. In the book I am reading at present, Once a Runner, the repeated, sustained effort of running long distances is a central theme. One of the figures is known for his commitment to running every single day: "On the altar of consistency he offered up no less than two portions of his life per day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year (p.25)." Others join him, cheered on their first morning by the effortless pace, returning the next and so on until "the accumulation of steady mileage began to take its toll" and "The new runner would find it more tedious than he could bear. The awful truth would begin to dawn on him: there was no Secret! His days would have to be spent in exactly this manner, give or take a mile or two, for longer than he cared to think about, if he really wanted to see the olive wreath up close (p.36)." It became known as the 'Trial of Miles', a process of separating the real athlete from the 'wannabe' athlete. The book creates something of a mystical character out of the long distance runner, who becomes the untouchable, unfathomable hero, although living the ordinary life of a student in a university with Sports scholarships. To prove their ordinariness, we are given accounts of the odd prank, of girlfriends and so on.
Overall, it's a pleasant, beguiling read. I'm not sure how much is credible; what would be considered downright old-fashioned and unscientific in today's world of athletics and how much is still applicable. There are aspects of their lives that resonate with me, however, particularly at the moment. They run and run and run. The question of constant fatigue is a recurring theme. He writes at the end of one chapter in which one of the characters is scoffing at those who write about running (!), particularly those who go on about the euphoria and mysticism of it. He sees those aspects as benefits, but not the end goal: "Running to him was real; the way he did it the realest thing he knew. It was all joy and woe, hard as diamond; it made him weary beyond comprehension. But it also made him free.(p. 123)."
My satisfaction is personal, absolutely personal to me. It has nothing to do with outcomes, productivity, virtue or anything. It's just that, quite simply, in my own mind I fought the good fight this week. I dragged myself around (albeit two miles short of the programme). That, for some reason, is satisfying.
 |
| Deer Park this morning |
No comments:
Post a Comment