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October
September ended with a good deal of optimism on the running front.
The week before last I found myself running up to the hill-top village of Venasque in Provence. As I looked left over the cherry trees and vines I could see the mighty Mount Ventoux. Long, easy miles was what I was after. But it's difficult to run in an easy fashion when you're in the shadow of a mountain that's come to symbolise intense physical effort.
As I cantered around the final bend into the village I started the short search for a fountain. And within no time I was eargerly washing my head and drinking down big gulps of the local spring water.
Provence has long-been the realisation of a middle-class fantasy for many Brits. And most people's holiday snaps could come straight from the pages of a Fired Earth catalogue. Yet many of the more celebrated villages seem to have little heart or soul. More like museums than communities; on this evening the only life was from a couple of restaraunts and a boutique hotel, plus the odd tourist couple wandering around the narrow ginnels mumbling bonsoir.
One medieval village even has an exhibition of lifesize, black-and-white photos from the 50's dotted around the place reminding the visitor what the place was like before it was gradually sold-off to people who had no interest in actually living there.
But as a destination for walking, running or cycling, of course, it's some kind of paradise. Deep gorges and high rocky outcrops. An abundance of wild, fragrant herbs. Beautiful trails. Picturesque settlements perfectly fitting with the landscape. Blue skies and a wonderful climate. All set in a country that often feels like one big farm.
From there fast-forward a couple of weeks to a hobbling Glaconman unable to make it from the bed to the bathroom without considerable effort. Plantar Fascia now resident on my other foot.
I know the 'solution': ice, stretching, massage, cross-training. Unfortunately, as far as running goes, it's a condition that responds to rest. There goes another few months and a whole load of race plans down the drain.
I think I probably need to approach this running lark from a different angle. I keep saying that what's important is getting out onto the hills and enjoying the basic act of running. But all I seem to do is run on roads as hard as I can.
A head-torch and 6 months enforced rest from competition is probably what is needed. But are we ever any good at taking the long-view? All I really want to do is pin on that number.
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