Bad run today. Chugged along the canal for 3 kilometres before having to stop for a walk, and never really got going again.
I amused myself by listening to a collection of podcasts from Hal Higdon and the US Runner’s World magazine, the latter mainly on the subject of the New York Marathon.
I’ve had it in mind that I have so few marathons in me that I should aim to do them in different countries, so I’ve not seriously thought about doing another in the US. I’m not even sure if Brits are allowed to travel there anymore. But if we are, perhaps I should think about the NY Marathon sometime. It sounds like quite an event, despite the need to be bussed out of town at 4 in the morning, or whatever.
I spent almost an hour listening to the podcasts. I’d forgotten what a laid back voice Higdon has. He doesn’t sound like a runner. I met Hal several times during the week I ran Chicago in 2002, but I don’t remember him sounding quite so… down home. Anyway, apart from a decent quote from Willie Sutton who, when asked why he robbed banks, replied "Because that’s where the money is", I don’t think I learnt a great deal. This set me wondering whether marathon running has a finite core of information. I’ve read a couple of Hal’s books, plus various other running how-tos, so it shouldn’t be surprising that I’ve heard most of it before. I could almost have written these podcasts for him. This certainly isn’t to downplay the usefulness of the material. The advice is good. But I seem always to be looking for more, and perhaps the truth is that beyond this point, there isn’t a whole lot more to discover. Or to discover from other people. Maybe it’s all up to me now.
I’m beginning to sound like a stuck record but I really need to put that book together. Marathon Running For Fat, Lazy Gits.
The run was disappointing, and I returned home deflated and gloomy. I cheered up slightly on the news that my team actually won a game of football, though I’m not regretting my decision not to renew my season ticket this year. I have better things to do with my time. Like staring out the window, hoping that book will write itself.
