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Diaries and Log Books

It is quite evident that I was running before 1981 but that is the year that my running records begin.  Since I started those records I have maintained a hand-written log that estimates every mile covered.  I could never claim that it is accurate as I’ve only ever kept the record to the nearest 0.5 miles and my timing estimates must have been a bit off on several occasions.  Now, with the advent of Google maps combined with the buckeyeoutdoors.com training site [great site] or the iPhone sat-nav app that I use, I feel that my recorded accuracy is rather better.  It is, interestingly, quite close to my time based  estimates and there seems to be a reasonably even compensation between the over and under estimate values. This, of course, accepts that I believe in the accuracy of the technological aids

I’ve used buckeyeoutdoors  to record all my runs this year but I don’t want to let go of my paper records, so I still keep a hand-written log.  I feel that this log is an important part of my running, it helps to stimulate and maintain my interest.  Even those of us that can sit in the circle, give our names and admit to being addicted to running still need stimulants (I mean emotional stimuli here, not drugs, of course) to encourage us past the flat spots.

Let me return to the running story.  In May and June 1981 I was recording 40 - 60 miles per week.  I entered my first real road race on Sunday the 14th of June 1981: ‘The Fisherman’s 6’ at Brixham in Devon.  This is a coastal fishing town and I recall that it had some surprisingly steep hills.  My diary records that it was a very hot day and that I had a good run but my memory tells me that it was a sharp introduction into how competitive such events can be.  The following weekend I did the ‘Dartmoor North ~ South Run’; this was a cross-country event and Dartmoor has some difficult and energy sapping terrain.  My diary records that it was a 25 mile event but it took me 4 hours 30 minutes; I added the note “Stick to roads”, an interesting comment given that just 3 years later Dartmoor saw my most triumphant moment of running.

The events continued through the summer.  I took part in a 10,000 metre track event on the 16th of July...it was a huge field of 58 runners.  My recorded time was 39 mins 38 secs.  So there was some evidence of my speed improving.  I was never going to threaten the leaders at such events but I felt that I was learning more about the sport of running.

I had my first marathon in my sights.  Just a few years after the days when I considered such distances impossible for the average (and in my case, with running, rather below average) human I was going to take part in the 1981 Pony Marathon in Bolton in the North West of England.  

I have been very thankful over the years that my body has not sustained any significant or long-term running injuries but my diary reminds me that I did have some pain in my right knee in the month before my marathon debut.  I was determined to run that event, however, and drove up to Bolton for the weekend.  I broke the first cardinal rule by purchasing a new pair of running shorts for the race at the registration expo...but I seemed to get away with that on the day.   

I lined up on the morning of Sunday the 23rd of August 1981 with 8753 other entrants.  The results show that I finished 964th in a time of 3hrs 25mins 51secs (as well as my diaries I also have several scrapbooks and folders so there’s a lot of stuff for me to refer to).  I remember very well that I, like so many of us, set out far too quickly.  By 12 miles I was struggling and already into the run/walk rhythm that has got many middle-packers home over the years.  I found the energy to keep driving myself on and, again like so many, I remember the flood of emotion that hit me when I crossed the finish line.  Perhaps less common amongst runners, I can also recall lighting up a cigarette quite soon after I’d completed the run too.  It would be a couple of years before I had the determination to beat that particular demon.  My diary note for day was: “I done it!! (sic) - can do better - hard run”.  So I had thrown down the gauntlet to myself.

The Start of the 1981 Pony Marathon

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As I write this blog entry the sporting headlines in England are dominated by the allegations of cricketers fixing play in the recent England v Pakistan Test Series.  To many cricket is an arcane sport that moves at a beguilingly slow pace.  To others it is a wholly engaging spectacle as deeply considered tactics move the game through its phases.  I have, for many years, delighted in the sportsmanship that was at the core of the game.  There are umpires and they have to decide on many aspects of a match but the code, the spirit of the game meant that the players would often make those decisions ahead of the umpire having to intervene; if the batsman knew he’d nicked the ball when the keeper claimed a catch then he would walk from the crease, giving himself out.  If a fielder dived for a catch and claimed that he had caught it cleanly then his word would be accepted, no requirement for scrutiny by television replay from 4 angles.  Now, I fear, those gestures are less commonplace and the game is the worse for it, in my opinion, although it seems that confrontation and argument makes for better viewing in the judgement of many who control our media.  

The betting scandal...and it’s not the first in cricket...is another sorry reflection on the corrosive effects of short-term monetary gain.  I feel that the  money involved in most sport at the professional level has had a largely negative effect on the pastimes that so many of us enjoyed watching and participating in. This is one of the reasons that I still draw pleasure from running...and here I have, with regret, to differentiate between running and athletics, there have been too many drugs cheats in athletics for me to be able to watch that beautiful sport without a disturbing uncertainty.  Running, ordinary folk just getting out alone or together, with all but the very few having any prospect of winning the prizes seems to me to be truer to the ideal of exercise forming part of a complete and sustaining lifestyle than being disappointed again by seeing those with wonderful sporting gifts and abilities squander so much for what, in the end, will give them so little satisfaction.    

Two footnotes:  Firstly, I have used the male gender when writing about cricket here but I acknowledge that there have, for very many years, been excellent female cricketers too.  Secondly, my son plays a lot of cricket for a village side here in Somerset, England.  It is a continuing pleasure in the game played at this level that the batting team will often furnish both umpires for their own innings and yet decisions of those umpires are accepted by the fielding side as the final ruling.