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Ultras and rationality

Running has a logic that is simple rational and gets you where you want to go.

It is possible to apply a rational logic to what can appear to be an irrational activity. The logic of running doesn’t require irrationality because the activity of ultra-running can appear irrational.

In any event all it takes to change ultra-running to a rational activity is to extend the context in which to judge it  far enough. That which in normal terms looks irrational, becomes, on a grander stage, rational.

Sometimes when running you have to remind yourself of this. Sometimes deep in training you have to take a deep breath and remind yourself of this. Sometimes deep in a long run, you should forget all this and focus on running.

 

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The Mystery of Training

Ultra-training is mysterious. Books, magazines, websites, gurus at the running club who have been to the Oracles Beyond 42.2 km, Beyond 50 miles, 100 miles or To Infinity might have programs or training ideas. None are wrong. All are mysterious.

Training programs

Comrades training is no different. The interpretations of the Oracle of Comrades Many Times, are mysterious. This is partly because of the training myths – the distances you need to cover, the paces you have to run to get a finish or a medal, the interpretation of the “Go hard or go home”, the “Pain is good. Extreme pain is extremly good.” – deepen the mystery. They hide as much if not more than they reveal.

Most programs will set out in detail the kind of runs you need to do, the distances or running times you must achieve and the paces or effort levels you must run.

The first mystery is that they all tell you to run more and faster than you need to.

The second mystery is why they so rarely detail the kind of workouts you need for the rest of your body – the stretching, core muscles, compensation, strengthening exercise, for arms and legs and more

Most unlikely will they details training for the systems inside you that sustain you.

The final mystery is that, if they talk about mental training at all, besides a bit of visualisation here hand there, maybe some pre-race planning and race strategising, one can see that they a groping about in the dark for something they won’t even know if they grab.

Training Outcome

Training is also mysterious because you never quite know what the training you do, will or could bring on the big day.

Even when finally the start cannon booms, when the early rush is over and you sit in the repetitive roll of the Comrades drum, you never quite know what will happen on that long road.

Training almost has to be a mystery.

We can’t, as for a 10 km maybe, do one a month until you have go it right in the build up and then do even better on your chosen race day.

With Comrades you get but one chance a year and even then the route changes, you are a year older, a year more experienced and still you won’t know what the day with bring until its brought.

Even after you have finished, the result you produced has its mystery. Often you might wonder what would have happened if you had pushed more, pushed less, drunk more, had a better qualifying time, recovered better, trained differently.

Need the mystery remain?

Not really. There is an idea that at least starts in training in the right direction.

Training right means getting right the ingredients which give you your best chance on race day.

A way through Comrades training

The posts that follow on training are some of the paths, markers, direction indicators I found, maybe followed, maybe ignored.

They won’t be be definitive or exhaustive. The book that covers it all is long.

Nor will the posts be prescriptive. The way through training requires each runner to take control of their training and make decisions for themselves.

I may have just added to the mystery. But I have aimed this at helping runners take control of their training and their run on the day. The posts may also help inspire or motivate.

They are in the end, aimed at helping those interested get the most out of their Comrades Marathon training.

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Its the end of August and the next few weeks are important. In a very real way ones best Comrades Marathon time is determined by the end of October. After that its one training is about getting strong enough while remaining fresh enough to achieve the best time.

More on this will follow. In the meantime, especially for runners like me who have recovered from this year’s Comrades these weeks in September and October are there there to get right the key ingredient that will take ones Comrades to the best it can be.

 

For some it might mean getting ones mind right or for doing a run longer than Comrades to get perspective from “the other side”.

For me it will be about doing work to improve my slowing running speeds. That means maintaining a good base weekly-mileage and also doing some effort work, intervals, fartlek, hill intervals, time-trials. Maybe two three-week sessions with a rest between. The second one harder than the first.

At least I have got rid of the ‘flu-like illness I got from the rest of my family. Spring is nearly here. Summer is coming. The warmth will be good, my tan will be richer and sunrise will come closer to my normal running time.

So after 20 min this morning (and that after 10 days of not running at all) all the zest and zip of my running came back to me.

Life looks good again.

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Running ages

The 16 year-old in me wants to run Comrades again. The 40 year-old know-it-all-with-a-silver medal starts, “Well if you want to do …” The ageless me, the one I want to know better, hugs them both. “Go to your memories”, he gently steers Lord40 away.

“Come, mister,” to Eager16. “If you want to do it, let’s run a bit. And don’t worry that you’re too young. We’ll get you into the race. If you want some help just ask.”

Warm-up, fartlek on the ups, panting, bright eyes.

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Comrades spirit in the early days

The spirit that makes Comrades unique started early.

Arthur Newton

When Arthur Newton won his second race, the third running of the event in 1923, he refused the first prize.

The Comrades spirit expressed itself there, in its earliest years.

His generous view was that the competition wasn’t fair. He had had nothing to do but train; the other competitors couldn’t do as much.

He knew that they had jobs, families, obligaions and more. He had time to run around 9000 miles, nearly 14500 km in the year between his first and second Comrades, which translates in around 300 km a week if my calculations are right.

Then again he had running logic. He worked out how to do that much distance that well with only his legs, his mind and smoking a pipe at the evening fire.

Spectators

At the same run, the “crowd”, those that watched or took an interest, was generous too.

They stayed to watch Frances Hayward who though not allowed because she was a woman to run as an official competitor, had run anyway. She finished in 11 hours and 28 min and was suitable cheered and saluted.

Newspaper opinion was 53 years ahead of the those in charge of the rules. Morris Alexander quotes an unnamed article in 1922 that hailed Frances Hayward’s “achievement as ‘another signal of women’s emancipation from the thraldom of good-natured disdain in which mere man has held her’”.

Didn’t that put it nicely?

At the time women’s emancipation and fight for the vote had been a big issue in the United Kingdom which as the “parent” of South Africa at the time had had big influence here. The right to vote on the same terms as men only came to the UK in 1928.

Women were finally allowed to enter officially in 1975.

But to be fair not all men held the view. It was peculiar kind of man, who arrogated to himself the superiority to judge for others what was good and bad for them; and exercised the powers taken on themselves with a sniff and arched eyebrows, while boiling in their starched collars, without insight into human nature.

Then the rule-enforcers misunderstanding the purpose and context of rules, decreed that women were not supposed to run. Now they harass the jogger who run listening  to MP3,4,5 players, and women who can’t find a place on their crop top to pin a race-number.

Frances Hayward

Luckily, the organisers of Comrades 1922 were of the more generous kind. The Comrades spirit helped them manage a remarkable event rather than at athletics meeting. They accepted the “unofficial” status of Frances Hayward, allowed her to run and recorded her time.

The un-officious ordinary people, enthralled by the event and the courage of those who entered the Comrades Marathon, welcomed her presence, looked for her at the start and along the way, waited for her after the entertainment at the finish arena ended, cheered her he finish and generously gave to a “silver collection” – donations I assume, of silver coins, the sixpences, shillings and so on and not the darker pennies, ha’pennies and farthings – to reward her.

Enough was collected for a decent prize, one probably nicer than the winner’s prize Arthur Newton rejected.

She, ever dapper, recovered as Alexander records, and went to the theatre later.

And like many others held the view that once was enough, maybe too much.

 

The above is all based on Morris Alexander’s The Comrades Marathon Story and my imagination


 

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The 10 year-old in me enjoys my running antics. His cheers are loud. He finds my name in the results; not worrying I don’t make the headlines.

He loves the peeling naartjie smell, how his mouth sucks at its taste-burst after a run.

The taste is as fresh as that of the ones he used to take from Mr le Roux’s orchard next door, even when he shot near us with his pellet gun; teaching us to run and hurdle fences.

Oh and naartjies are great with an espresso.

(a naartjie is South African word for an easy peeling, if it gets enough water during growing, citrus fruit also known as a mandarin,  tangerine and Citrus reticulata; perfect for maintaining post or during run hydration or for stealing from the neighbour)

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On the past weekend’s little trail runs I remembered (a long ago running partner) Rick Shaeffer’s comment: When I was little. my mom shouted “Come out of the rain, stop jumping in puddles, you’ll get wet and dirty.” Now I run in the rain, jump in the puddles and take photos of mud-splats all over me”. Okay maybe I made up some of the words but you get the idea. I imagined the light in his grin.

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Back in the city-grime on its hard roads. Long weekend treat in a nature reserve: what of those riverside trails in the earliest light, mist on the water; hands-in-sleeves cold, grass wet, leaves drip, grin stretched up to the snow-topped mountains? Well they’re etched deep enough to last past my last gasp.

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A running week

Friday cold wind howling, rest day

Saturday, just feel tired, cold wind howling, wimp the run

Sunday, still tired, cold wind howling, not normally a running day

Monday, I understand that my recovery from Comrades is not yet complete, though my legs are getting perky. Wind cold still howling.

Tuesday, no wind and a perfect light, lusty 8 km, filled with numbers of running. A maths complicated to symbolise but easy to do: 4 with overlays of 4 and 2 deliver 8, 20, 1 like this : 4 days no running, no moon, empty streets; 4 days wind chill, warm bed, fuller dreams; 2 days bouncy legs, glinty eyes, itchy feet. Morning coffee always rich. This a.m.’s 8k stirred up my running residue, polished it in the moon. Then 20 min to delight in its starlit glitter; puffing it up again with sips of coffee. 1 perfect run, you see.

Wednesday, habit recovery day after a run, an indulgence and rememberance day.

Thursday: Yes! Rain on roof. Rummage for technical gear. Not wimping this one. Like a surfer into storm-big waves. Fetch in the last of the kids toys and visitors’ walking shoes Run, winter is come. And gone. Sweat-wet isn’t rain-soak. Even Venus looked through a gap in the clouds. Yet nicely, back at the gate, thumb hesitated over the remote. Maybe another 8k loop? Yes! Not really.

And still there’s Friday to come

 

 

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Recovery blues

The only problem about recovering from Comrades; from a big near 12-hour challenge, also from monnths of training almost as hard as I can.

I can’t run.

Otherwise its great. Lazy easy runs, time to enjoy them. Feeling strength return. Run-health fizzing through me. Good memories on my pillow, medal under it. Why not?

But I want more.

Outside the moon is full, the winter warm, my legs itch.

Not only is this a rest day, it’s also a Robyn gym day.

So I pause. Too soon 14-month old Emily wakes.

She calms out in the still-bright, still-rich, still morning moonlight.