When September ends . . . again . . .

[Sweder]

Returning from my exertions in the East I was hugely relieved to embrace my soggy Sussex hills this week. In times of intense travel I draw great comfort from the familiar; rain-soaked fields, windswept hills, bedraggled sheep and happy, panting dogs.

My first outing, on Tuesday, the day after arriving home, was swift and gratifying. My limited experience with running tells me to expect ‘return’ runs to be of good quality, laden with energy and enthusiasm. I wasn’t disappointed, clocking a ‘season’s best’ time of around 46 minutes for the hilly five miler.

Today’s run was equally rewarding and, for me, swift, in considerably less clement conditions. A brusque breeze badgered my flapping shorts, mostly helping on the outward climbs. Last night’s heavy rain lingered in the air like a boozy guest reluctant to leave the party as the sun comes up. I-Pod shuffle delivered an eclectic mixture of ACDC, Kaiser Chiefs, Stranglers and Girlschool as my thoughts turned once more to Shenzhen. I’d finally gotten around to writing up my trip last night. I’d harbored hopes of an Andy-style thoughtfully woven pieced. All this lead to was day after day of avoiding the subject until I finally strapped myself into my chair last night and furiously brain-dumped the data into my diary.
Sweder, Know thyself.

Yet this morning I realized I’d not addressed some of the issues that burn behind the bright red flag of the rising Chinese Dynasty in this new millennia. Human rights, abuse and disavowing of a disabled generation, inequalities outside the ‘western’ cities, arbitrary executions and the sale of criminal organs to the West, ecological genocide to threaten the future of our planet. In truth I saw nothing of this during my visit. Au contrare, I gawped at the positive promotion of disabled athletes on the CCTV (National telly) Channel Five. I noted a repeated commitment to the construction of green ‘lungs’ in the major cities, and chuckled at the no doubt well-founded suggestion that the authorities were ‘seeding clouds’ to ensure morning rainfall in Beijing. Pollution is the number one enemy in China, and in Beijing doubly so. The 2008 Olympics are all but upon us. The publicity-seeking moguls behind the New China are desperate for records to tumble at these games, an unlikely outcome if the competitors are wheezing to the start line like SP after a night on the rollies.

You know, the concrete I saw being poured in every corner of Shenzhen last week may well have been mixed with the blood of a million unwanted children. The daily watering of the streets, apparently to keep down the invasive dust blowing in off the inland desert plains, may well have been for my and other tourists’ benefits. I don’t really know. But I do know that we ignore this nation at our peril. We need to stay close to this China Girl, to influence and cajole her to take the right path; as the Borg might say, resistance is futile.

Speaking of girls I considered my two upcoming races.
(Eh? It’s OK, you’ll see in a minute)
The Jog Shop Jog, twenty miles of teeth-gritting, will-sapping torture, all hills and open downland, relentless, unforgiving, harsh. Lovely. And the Brighton 10K. I really don’t like 10Ks at all; they’re just not made for me. I’m an old-fashioned fellow; I like to take my time with a run. I’d best hand you over to Swiss Tony on this one.

Taking on a long-distance run is a bit like making love to a beautiful woman.
You have to earn her trust, get to know her, converse, compliment her, buy her a drink, find out what her sign is. Then when you have her lost in your charm and mutual respect take her carefully, lovingly, show her you understand her needs, talk to her, love her until you lie together sated, content in each others’ arms . . .

Ahem. Yes, well, thank you Tony, sort of.
I do like to ‘ease in’ to a race or a run. The first few miles are a ‘getting to know you’ process, learning about how I’m feeling, what I’m capable of on the day, where the energy levels are, are there any niggles to worry about. This 10K malarky’s all a bit ‘wham, bam thank you M’am’ for my tastes. There’s no prelude, no introduction; no flowers, no aperitif; hit your straps out of the blocks or you can kiss any chance of a PB goodbye. This of course is to risk the dreaded ‘blow-up’. Now, I’m not one who suffers from premature tape-crossing, but there’s plenty out there who know what I’m talking about, eh Lads? Shooting your bolt too soon? Something pops into your head right outta nowhere and says ‘hey; maybe I’ve kept myself deliberately under potential all this time! All I need to do is really get out there all guns blazing! I can break the forty-minute mark, all I have to do is commit, it’s all there . . .

These are the guys we pass as we plod on, their heads bowed, the demons driven out to plague someone else. Race plans in tatters they walk the walk of shame.

OK, I fess up, I’ve had these thoughts. I look at other runners with vastly more impressive times than me and I just can’t see the difference. It must be in the attitude, right? Wrong. As we all know too well it’s actually all in the training, the unrelenting hours of effort it takes to break through these barriers. We’d all like to think we can do it but when push comes to shove there are sacrifices to be made. Our good friend the Purple Plodder sets sail for Washington soon, a 3:15 fixed, trembling, in her sights. If she does it will it be because of some moment of enlightenment, some revelation, an inner glow bursting into dream-fulfilling light? Nope. It’ll be the weeks and months of eighty, ninety and even hundred miles banked, slogged out in all weathers, morning, noon and night. Focus. Determination. The will to win. That’s what separates the wannabes from the winners. I don’t have that extra edge; if I did I’d’ve been out on those freshly-hosed Shenzhen streets at the crack of each new dawn, chiseling my destiny for the races ahead.

I take my hat off to you, PP, you’re going for it. You’ve bundled your excuses into an old sack and tossed them into the Atlantic ocean. Best of luck, and please come back and tell us all about it.