2006 - August

[MickCollins]

...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: