Friday Five: Running sounds

On Sunday I shall be running my first 10km race since rupturing my calf muscle nearly two years ago. It has been a long and sometimes painful recovery, but I have trained sensibly for once – the things you have to do when you’re over forty…

I know that many people run to music, and create dedicated soundtracks to motivate themselves. A friend even told me she had an app on her phone that made it sound like zombies were chasing her and would catch her if she slowed down. This sounds pretty traumatic to me, although each to their own, of course.

I never run with headphones. I can understand why you might want to at the gym, as it is incredibly tedious in there and some of the tracks they pump out are just awful. But when I’m running in the ‘great outdoors’, I actually like running and don't wish to be distracted from it. I want all my senses on full alert, and I like to listen to the world around me.

5 Things I Listen to when Running:

1. My breathing – the rhythm of your breath, your heel strike and your heartbeat are very important to running, (and to breathing). As a person prone to anxiety attacks I was encouraged to be aware of my breathing and control it through running, swimming and yoga.
2. Possible danger – I don’t just mean cars and out-of-control dogs, but having lived in Manchester, there is no way I would ever run down an alleyway without being able to hear exactly what or who is behind me. Wearing headphones tends to make you disconnected from your circumstances, thus compromising your own safety and that of those around you, and there’s a very good reason why they’re banned from many races.
3. Wildlife – With approximately 250 species, Canberra has the richest bird life of any city in Australia. From screeching and squawking to twittering and even laughing, they sound great and I wouldn’t want to miss that. Rustlings in the undergrowth alert me to lizards, possums and even snakes. I’ve yet to encounter a wombat while out running but Him Outdoors has and my time will surely come.
4. The elements – Whether it’s the wind in the wind in the trees, the trickling of a stream, or the lapping of the waves, nature doesn’t just look beautiful; it sounds it too. Running is a relaxant and a way to avoid the over-saturated stimuli of a media-concentrated world. An hour of peace and relative quiet is essential for my mental health.
5. Other people – it’s just sociable to reply when someone says hello to you as they run past.

72 Hours in Christchurch

Saturday

2pm - Today was going to be the first time I had flown with Jetstar. Problems with checking in our bags proved to be problems with checking in at all – the flight was cancelled because ‘your plane is broken; it can’t fly’. Not terribly reassuring, but the staff at the desk (and at the Air New Zealand desk, where we booked a flight later in the day) were very helpful and pleasant. That can’t be easy when everyone is moaning at you.

3pm – After checking our bags onto the Air New Zealand flight, we went to a café over the road and had coffee and cake – carbo-loading for the race tomorrow. Or maybe just an excuse to pass the time with coffee and cake.

5pm – We arrived in the new bit of Christchurch Airport to be met by Wide Boy Steve. We had less than an hour to find the Horticultural Society (‘somewhere on Riccarton Ave’ according to Him Outdoors) and collect our race packs. WBS drove us in laps round Hagley Park – his attempts to ‘dive down this side road’ being thwarted by the fact that said side road was closed due to piles of earthquake rubble and unsound buildings. We got there with seconds to spare and collected our race packs containing our number and packets of goo.

7pm – Back at Lyttleton for dinner with our friends. Witch 3 had previously sent me a text asking, ‘Apart from beer, do you need anything special for dinner?’ She must be under the mistaken impression that we are athletes and take these race things seriously. We said no and so we had a delicious roast followed by pear halves and ice cream. And lots of beer. The scarlet reptile (their teenage daughter) is very vocal about her dislikes – pumpkin; pears; carrots; etc – but not so forthcoming about what she does like. When (if ever) does this change?

Sunday

7am – This is not a normal time on a Sunday for me. Him Outdoors woke me up with a cup of tea and two slices of toast; then bundled me into the car and drove me to Lincoln. I tried to navigate but it wasn’t easy with half of the roads blocked off. Christchurch hasn’t got many landmarks, but the few there were and now destroyed. In the daylight you can see the scale of destruction and it’s really quite depressing.

The Christchurch Marathon, Half Marathon and 10km used to follow a pretty pleasant route along the Avon. It can’t now, of course, and has been re-routed to Lincoln. The roads are long and straight and (most crucially) unimpeded by rippling concrete, liquefaction, and other earthquake consequences that the rest of the city displays. It has been a massive task getting this event up and running, as it were, and the organizers are to be commended for continuing. Traffic management is a bit of a problem as there is limited access to the university campus where the race begins, so the start is delayed by half an hour to let everyone arrive. Damn, foiled in that plan, then!

10am – Lincoln University has some impressive buildings – we scuttled around them looking for the start. Pre-race the talk was tough (‘Christchurch is back on its feet’; ‘We are up and running’ etc.) but the queue for the toilets was tougher!

11.30am – due to the staggered start times and the fact that he ran twice as far and almost twice as fast as I, Him Outdoors and I finished at about the same time. I was really just interested in making sure my knee held up to the distance (it’s the first race I’ve done since I damaged my knee about a year ago), and was going to run without a watch because the time wasn’t important and I knew it would only depress me. I couldn’t do it, though – I had to know my time (a very slow 1:02:57 if you’re interested) – what’s that about? At least I now know that if I carry on with all this boring gym and intensive physio stuff, I can run 10km again.

12pm – While waiting for prize-giving we went off to Hillyer’s Café to read the Sunday papers. It’s a pleasant wee spot which appears to be cycle-friendly (judging by the jerseys hanging outside and the pictures on the walls) and does great pies. Moving on for a change of scenery, The Bridge in Prebbleton had a warm fire, a comfy sofa and Speight’s Distinction.

4pm – Prize-giving was full of emotional speeches (Brian Taylor, a former race director and the chairman of the Christchurch Marathon Trust Board, was killed in the February earthquake) and seriously good holidays as spot prizes. We didn’t win any, although Him Outdoors picked up a rucksack for being second old git and 24th overall.

6pm – Once more back to Lyttleton where Witch 3 fed us pumpkin soup. After that and a bath I felt warm on the inside and the outside, so we headed out into what’s left of the town to celebrate. Keeping the local economy afloat we spent money in the Loons (drinking up their selection of good bottled beers) and the only recently re-opened Wunderbar. Apparently tonight is cross-dressing Sunday. The bloke behind the bar had gone to some effort (well, he’d put lipstick on, although he hadn’t shaved his beard) and informed us, ‘I’m a lady’. But of course you are.

Monday

10am – Witch 3 and Wide Boy Steve took us for a walk with their dopey dog. They can’t walk in the hills on their usual route because boulders and liable to come tumbling down. The buildings are all skewiff with leaning porches, broken brickwork, toppled chimneys and shattered windows. It felt wrong to catalogue this misery so instead WBS pointed out the yachts on the water, loosely tethered and free to escape. My knee began to hurt a little (clambering over the rocks probably isn’t the best exercise for it) so we walked back along the road through abandoned subdivisions full of previously desirable residences where no one wants to live anymore.

2pm – Met some friends in Becks Southern Alehouse. We had been going to somewhere else but it was closed; this is how you arrange to meet people in Christchurch now. Over a couple of beers and a bowl of wedges we discussed the damage to people’s homes, their access to fresh water, and the council’s job of keeping everyone informed with the most recent information while various departments bicker over supremacy and protocol. There is no other topic of conversation up here. My friend told me she was almost as fed up with talking about it as she is with the constant aftershocks.

6pm – The boys went out to get Chinese takeaways and fish and chips while we stayed in to talk more nonsense, of which there seems to be an endless supply. We ate dinner while watching the final episode of Sherlock, which we taped last night. Benedict Cumberbatch is brilliantly self-interested as Holmes and Martin Freeman (somewhat of a favourite of mine) is a powerfully under-stated Dr Watson. I wasn’t sure about dragging this classic drama into the present with all the technical gizmos and flash filming techniques, but I have thoroughly enjoyed this miniseries – and am more than slightly disappointed that it’s over.

We had an early start in the morning (when we finally flew Jetstar after all) so we took ourselves off to bed for another shaky night. Yep, the earth moved for us, but I’m sure that ‘joke’ has worn very thin in Christchurch. We were only there for three days and although I was happy to catch up with friends, I was also glad to leave it all behind.

I'll be Mark Cavendish

Mark Cavendish has won another stage in Le Tour. We are watching all night - hence the lack of sleep. I love Le Tour, as I have mentioned before. In a great quote from the Guardian it is described as 'chess on wheels'.

I yearn for those sunny villages shown in the helicopter shots as the cameras cruise over castles and chateaux - I'm not sure if it's the history and culture I crave, or just the warmth and sunshine and lack of wind.

Anyway, apparently when he was about 15 Mark Cavendish went out on a training ride with a couple of mates. One said, "I'll be Eric Zabel"; the other said "I'll be Robbie McEwen". Mark Cavendish said, "I'll be Mark Cavendish". People accuse him of arrogance, but maybe that's the attitude you need to win races.

You've got to know you're good and you've got to believe in yourself. There's an expression, 'If you've got it; flaunt it' - I've never agreed with that expression, but I do think that if you've got it, you should use it and be honest about it.