As promised, this is my last post on this blog. My intention from the beginning was to keep sharing my thoughts until they were no longer prevalent in my mind. As timing would have it, it is pretty much a year since I started chronicling my thoughts and feelings, most of which were running related but some of which breached the frontiers of Runner 'Been and attempted to offer some wider lessons in life. Those lessons were primarily meant for me; as was this blog. It was a compelling way to keep track of my progress; mentally rather than physically. My mind is swamped with vast reaches of thoughts and ideas, mostly mundane so that I often misplace those crucial rare epiphanies. I hope I've captured the important underlying themes and lessons that distance running has presented to me, whatever they are.
As I have previously mentioned, my primary thoughts currently lie elsewhere. However, running is now an integral part of me to the extent that talking about it almost seems unnatural. After all, I don't blog about eating, sleeping or breathing (and let's be thankful of that). Such is running; I can't imagine my life without it now and am grateful for the opportunity to benefit from something I love so much. Sensationalist, perhaps, but that's how I'm made. After all, it would be a shame to spend a year blogging about anything short of a passion.
So I'll march on, hopefully. My immediate plans with respect to running are now set: the Birmingham half in October, as a prelude to the next main event: the London Marathon 2011. All the time, I am improving all round fitness and, whilst injury concerns continue to infiltrate my thoughts, optimism and joy remains. I don't know if and when it all ends, but I am excited at the prospect of venturing further to great unknowns.
I part with a simple piece of advice. Don't take up running just to get fit or because it seems like a sensible thing to do. Keep an open mind, because there is something truly wonderful lurking once you probe deeply enough. We are, for the most part, built for running and like anything worth having in life, it takes a great deal of patience and endurance before you get to see the pretty side. Trust me, it's worth waiting for.
Runner 'Been signs off, with a huge thank you to everyone who has supported my efforts in the last year. My journey continues off this page and I'll always welcome your kind words of support and helpful advice (not to mention donations). I'll finish with this relevant adage:
"We don't stop running because we get old. We get old because we stop running."
:)
Sunday 25 July 2010
Tuesday 13 July 2010
A little bit of everything
It’s been around a month since my last entry, suggesting this blog has little fuel remaining. It has been a year since I started chronicling my thoughts, as a naïve, inexperienced and frankly clueless novice runner. So not much has changed, then. Still, with five races under my belt, including my first marathon, I’m well on my way. To what, it remains unclear. Here’s what I know: the last twelve months has allowed me to cover new ground (quite literally) and add a new dimension to the monotony of my daily routine. Running and all round fitness training is now inherently within me; a lazy weekend has left me desperate to hit the roads tomorrow, just for the sake of staying active. The buzz is still there and I want to do more marathons, in faster times, across the whole world. Patience is key, as always, and I must find a way to balance the demands of my personal and professional life with the delights of running.
My absence over the last month owes to several factors. Training itself has taken up much of my time, with increased gym sessions and swimming taking centre stage. In recent weeks, I’ve made a comeback to running, with a view to increasing speed and building up towards some races in the Autumn. Aside from the World Cup (more on this another time) taking up much of my leisure time (and beyond), it seems I have recaptured my academic mojo. Whilst the DPhil remains a hard slog, I’m no longer stuck in neutral and even have a finish date in my sights. I hope to submit my thesis by next Summer and am currently spending much of my time writing up my results so far. It seems too convenient to attribute my recent academic form to running, but the comparisons between these two seemingly polar opposite endeavours is not lost on me. Both entail long periods of uncertainty and frustration in the face of stagnant progress, but slowly and surely reveal subtle lessons the sum total of which make for quite the life lesson. In short, success is defined within and if one approaches one’s interests with a cocktail of patience, sincere intentions and genuine passion, there’s little one is not capable of.
My plans beyond the DPhil remain as clouded as my aspirations for running. In the meantime, I’ll continue to follow my heart and throw myself into that which serves up the perfect balance of meaning and joy. The DPhil must take priority over the next year and now that I have some momentum I must pounce on the opportunity to see it through in good time. Running will remain a focus but there are serious issues to address; do I go barefoot, as seems to be the direction in recent weeks? Do I focus on strength and work towards an all round fitness challenge like a triathlon or head for future marathons? And what of these ridiculously tight hips and worryingly wobbly knees?
Questions remain and the search for answers will continue.
In any case, this blog has surely outlived its usefulness, since my thoughts are no longer primarily occupied by running. It remains an important part of my life and I hope it will continue to bless me with great moments, but it is now in the backdrop of what is a very busy time for me. It is without a sense of hyperbole that I suggest the next few months represent the most defining period of my life. For reasons mentioned and otherwise, I feel I’m in a transition phase, ready to break through walls and arrive at new frontiers.
I’ll save my goodbyes for a farewell post, as any such post warrants an in depth review of my running journey itself. The blog may expire but let’s be clear: Runner ‘Been is going nowhere.
My absence over the last month owes to several factors. Training itself has taken up much of my time, with increased gym sessions and swimming taking centre stage. In recent weeks, I’ve made a comeback to running, with a view to increasing speed and building up towards some races in the Autumn. Aside from the World Cup (more on this another time) taking up much of my leisure time (and beyond), it seems I have recaptured my academic mojo. Whilst the DPhil remains a hard slog, I’m no longer stuck in neutral and even have a finish date in my sights. I hope to submit my thesis by next Summer and am currently spending much of my time writing up my results so far. It seems too convenient to attribute my recent academic form to running, but the comparisons between these two seemingly polar opposite endeavours is not lost on me. Both entail long periods of uncertainty and frustration in the face of stagnant progress, but slowly and surely reveal subtle lessons the sum total of which make for quite the life lesson. In short, success is defined within and if one approaches one’s interests with a cocktail of patience, sincere intentions and genuine passion, there’s little one is not capable of.
My plans beyond the DPhil remain as clouded as my aspirations for running. In the meantime, I’ll continue to follow my heart and throw myself into that which serves up the perfect balance of meaning and joy. The DPhil must take priority over the next year and now that I have some momentum I must pounce on the opportunity to see it through in good time. Running will remain a focus but there are serious issues to address; do I go barefoot, as seems to be the direction in recent weeks? Do I focus on strength and work towards an all round fitness challenge like a triathlon or head for future marathons? And what of these ridiculously tight hips and worryingly wobbly knees?
Questions remain and the search for answers will continue.
In any case, this blog has surely outlived its usefulness, since my thoughts are no longer primarily occupied by running. It remains an important part of my life and I hope it will continue to bless me with great moments, but it is now in the backdrop of what is a very busy time for me. It is without a sense of hyperbole that I suggest the next few months represent the most defining period of my life. For reasons mentioned and otherwise, I feel I’m in a transition phase, ready to break through walls and arrive at new frontiers.
I’ll save my goodbyes for a farewell post, as any such post warrants an in depth review of my running journey itself. The blog may expire but let’s be clear: Runner ‘Been is going nowhere.
Wednesday 9 June 2010
Competition
As is prudent after a series of distance races, running has adopted a subdued role in my life in recent days. The plan is to rest up for around six weeks (of which two have passed) before resuming a serious regime in July. I am enjoying the rare pleasure run; each one feels like a sustained victory lap. At some point though, I must rid myself of these feelings of triumph. I feel it is important to take the time to enjoy one's victories. There are some I continue to revel in even today. But to rest on one's laurels is nothing short of criminal.
I am tired by the sight of mediocrity. I don't mean this in the sense of talent, for I am no more than a triumph of the middling myself. But to see people, many of whom are indeed blessed with amazing gifts, instead follow for the status quo and settle for average is sickening. My belief is that most people are unwilling to put themselves out there (wherever there is). The fear of failure all too easily cripples the mind into the submission of believing that average is acceptable. But whilst our capacity to achieve great things may be limited, surely it's a crime not to reach for the summit and truly explore those limits.
I sincerely feel that I've accomplished a defining goal with my running in recent times. Even though a 3:48 marathon is far from stunning (around 10,000 runners beat that in Paris alone), I place it somewhere near the top of my personal achievements. But my success in running is defined not by numbers, but a continuing desire to better myself. Next stop sub 3h 30. After that, well I guess there's only one way to find out. It would be galling of me to stop now and claim I've conquered distance running when, in fact, I know I'm capable of so much more.
I'm known to be competitive; perhaps too much so. But let's break this down. Do I have a need to be the best? If so, I'm setting myself up for perpetual disappointment. I am skilled in few pursuits and in not a single one can I identify myself as a master of the field. That is not the competition I seek. Rather, it's the internal battle to be the best I can be that drives me forward. Our time is this life is finite, why waste it on half-baked efforts? This high-octane approach is very much round-the-clock for me. You will not see me play a casual game of Pro Evo or Monopoly. Neither one is close to my heart (not anymore, at least) but if I am to invest my time into either one, or anything else for that matter, you'd better believe I'm going to give it absolutely everything. The moment you start compromising even on seemingly frivolous pastimes, the floodgates open and the descent from greatness beckons. As a disclaimer, I am adamant that this ruthless mentality must be coupled with a degree of respect and sense of grace. As Pacino said, "On any given Sunday, you're either gonna win or you're gonna lose. The point is, can you win or lose like a man?" Too competitive? Not a bit of it.
With certain endeavours, there are clearly defined goals. As an undergraduate, Countdowner or Pool player I had/have a tangible finish line. But where and when does the challenge of distance running terminate? After all, one can maintain their peak well into their 60's. If the marathon is conquered (and by no means has it been yet) I can increase the distance. Or strive to beat my PBs on any of the race distances I've covered. The challenge to improve and realise my full potential is immense and will take some years to even touch.
Since almost all of my training is done in isolation, on the surface running doesn't so competitive. But make no mistake, my thirst to compete is as prevalent as ever. But now it's me vs me. It's impossible to call a winner.
I am tired by the sight of mediocrity. I don't mean this in the sense of talent, for I am no more than a triumph of the middling myself. But to see people, many of whom are indeed blessed with amazing gifts, instead follow for the status quo and settle for average is sickening. My belief is that most people are unwilling to put themselves out there (wherever there is). The fear of failure all too easily cripples the mind into the submission of believing that average is acceptable. But whilst our capacity to achieve great things may be limited, surely it's a crime not to reach for the summit and truly explore those limits.
I sincerely feel that I've accomplished a defining goal with my running in recent times. Even though a 3:48 marathon is far from stunning (around 10,000 runners beat that in Paris alone), I place it somewhere near the top of my personal achievements. But my success in running is defined not by numbers, but a continuing desire to better myself. Next stop sub 3h 30. After that, well I guess there's only one way to find out. It would be galling of me to stop now and claim I've conquered distance running when, in fact, I know I'm capable of so much more.
I'm known to be competitive; perhaps too much so. But let's break this down. Do I have a need to be the best? If so, I'm setting myself up for perpetual disappointment. I am skilled in few pursuits and in not a single one can I identify myself as a master of the field. That is not the competition I seek. Rather, it's the internal battle to be the best I can be that drives me forward. Our time is this life is finite, why waste it on half-baked efforts? This high-octane approach is very much round-the-clock for me. You will not see me play a casual game of Pro Evo or Monopoly. Neither one is close to my heart (not anymore, at least) but if I am to invest my time into either one, or anything else for that matter, you'd better believe I'm going to give it absolutely everything. The moment you start compromising even on seemingly frivolous pastimes, the floodgates open and the descent from greatness beckons. As a disclaimer, I am adamant that this ruthless mentality must be coupled with a degree of respect and sense of grace. As Pacino said, "On any given Sunday, you're either gonna win or you're gonna lose. The point is, can you win or lose like a man?" Too competitive? Not a bit of it.
With certain endeavours, there are clearly defined goals. As an undergraduate, Countdowner or Pool player I had/have a tangible finish line. But where and when does the challenge of distance running terminate? After all, one can maintain their peak well into their 60's. If the marathon is conquered (and by no means has it been yet) I can increase the distance. Or strive to beat my PBs on any of the race distances I've covered. The challenge to improve and realise my full potential is immense and will take some years to even touch.
Since almost all of my training is done in isolation, on the surface running doesn't so competitive. But make no mistake, my thirst to compete is as prevalent as ever. But now it's me vs me. It's impossible to call a winner.
Sunday 30 May 2010
Top five
With my first, self-defined, running season concluded, it seems this blog has little life remaining. Still, I'll keep writing up my thoughts as and when they come, without forcing the issue. In truth, I've surprised myself in keeping it going for so long. It would appear I have a lot to say on the subject, regardless of whether or not it makes any sense.
For now, I'm happy to look back to some of the defining memories of the last thirteen months. It's difficult to compare the different stages of the journey, but certain moments stand out and are due another mention. The countdown begins here...
5 Breakthrough
I'd been labouring away for around two months, struggling to cover even three miles without regular stoppages and even at slow jogging pace. Head dropped, I entertained the thought of giving it up, since it didn't seem to be going anywhere. Maybe I just wasn't cut out for this running lark. Then it happened; on one defining run last June three miles became four and I was buzzing, with energy in the tank and breathing under control. Before I knew it, I'd hit five miles with only one thought on my mind: keep going. On I went, until I eventually hit the treasured 10k mark. Still at slow speed, but for the first time I'd demonstrated endurance, and loved every minute of it. And there my love for running was born as for the first time I believed what once seemed unthinkable: I can do this.
4 Ramadhan nights
As I embraced the holy month of fasting, I realised this was the period that would define my preparation for my first big race, the Birmingham half marathon in October. With the days so long, my only reasonable option was to hit the roads in the dead of night. I soon became reliant on the eery silence of the Oxford streets in the deep hours and what was once a daunting prospect soon became one of the most uplifting experiences of running.
3 Birmingham Half - The arrival
My mind plagued by injury concerns, I entered the much anticipated race with a heavy dose of scepticism. Could my knee really last 13.1 miles? And would the race really live up to expectations? Within seconds of the start, these negative thoughts were replaced by the ultimate runner's high. My first race, surrounded by 12000 fellow runners in the carnival atmosphere of Birmingham. And boy did it help; to date it remains my most clinical performance, a 1:38 shattering even my wildest expectations. Hype became reality as I delivered on the big stage.
2 Jurata
With my marathon hopes hanging on by a thread, it was all or nothing at the Maths conference in Poland. On paper, I had no chance here; limited food options, disagreeable weather and academic commitments did not form the ideal backdrop for my longest training run. But with the Baltic coastline providing the setting, and weather almost ideal on the day itself, the run manifested itself as sheer joy. The sea, along which most of the run took place, made for some of the most beautiful scenery I've enjoyed. At times I was flying and by the end, I'd made the crucial breakthrough. For the first time, I believed I could beat the marathon.
1 Paris
An epic event in every sense; the culmination of twelve months of blood, sweat, tears and so much more. I left for Paris on Saturday morning and was back by Sunday evening. Everything in between remains a haze except for the race itself. I could not possibly forget the 3:48 journey that led me to a defining moment in my life. The last hour delivered all the promise of the fateful wall and so much more. It's a strangely profound feeling to endure such pain and come out the other side smiling. For all the emotion that running has brought with it, the finish at Avenue Foch was the one time I couldn't hold the tears back. This moment alone was worth all the stress, uncertainty and anguish that came before it. A timely reminder of what one can achieve when their heart desires and their mind wills.
It's curious that these moments are in chronological order, suggesting that as time goes on my experiences with running may become more significant yet. How I will top Paris I don't know. But I can't wait to find out.
For now, I'm happy to look back to some of the defining memories of the last thirteen months. It's difficult to compare the different stages of the journey, but certain moments stand out and are due another mention. The countdown begins here...
5 Breakthrough
I'd been labouring away for around two months, struggling to cover even three miles without regular stoppages and even at slow jogging pace. Head dropped, I entertained the thought of giving it up, since it didn't seem to be going anywhere. Maybe I just wasn't cut out for this running lark. Then it happened; on one defining run last June three miles became four and I was buzzing, with energy in the tank and breathing under control. Before I knew it, I'd hit five miles with only one thought on my mind: keep going. On I went, until I eventually hit the treasured 10k mark. Still at slow speed, but for the first time I'd demonstrated endurance, and loved every minute of it. And there my love for running was born as for the first time I believed what once seemed unthinkable: I can do this.
4 Ramadhan nights
As I embraced the holy month of fasting, I realised this was the period that would define my preparation for my first big race, the Birmingham half marathon in October. With the days so long, my only reasonable option was to hit the roads in the dead of night. I soon became reliant on the eery silence of the Oxford streets in the deep hours and what was once a daunting prospect soon became one of the most uplifting experiences of running.
3 Birmingham Half - The arrival
My mind plagued by injury concerns, I entered the much anticipated race with a heavy dose of scepticism. Could my knee really last 13.1 miles? And would the race really live up to expectations? Within seconds of the start, these negative thoughts were replaced by the ultimate runner's high. My first race, surrounded by 12000 fellow runners in the carnival atmosphere of Birmingham. And boy did it help; to date it remains my most clinical performance, a 1:38 shattering even my wildest expectations. Hype became reality as I delivered on the big stage.
2 Jurata
With my marathon hopes hanging on by a thread, it was all or nothing at the Maths conference in Poland. On paper, I had no chance here; limited food options, disagreeable weather and academic commitments did not form the ideal backdrop for my longest training run. But with the Baltic coastline providing the setting, and weather almost ideal on the day itself, the run manifested itself as sheer joy. The sea, along which most of the run took place, made for some of the most beautiful scenery I've enjoyed. At times I was flying and by the end, I'd made the crucial breakthrough. For the first time, I believed I could beat the marathon.
1 Paris
An epic event in every sense; the culmination of twelve months of blood, sweat, tears and so much more. I left for Paris on Saturday morning and was back by Sunday evening. Everything in between remains a haze except for the race itself. I could not possibly forget the 3:48 journey that led me to a defining moment in my life. The last hour delivered all the promise of the fateful wall and so much more. It's a strangely profound feeling to endure such pain and come out the other side smiling. For all the emotion that running has brought with it, the finish at Avenue Foch was the one time I couldn't hold the tears back. This moment alone was worth all the stress, uncertainty and anguish that came before it. A timely reminder of what one can achieve when their heart desires and their mind wills.
It's curious that these moments are in chronological order, suggesting that as time goes on my experiences with running may become more significant yet. How I will top Paris I don't know. But I can't wait to find out.
Monday 24 May 2010
Finale
I am minutess away from watching the finale of Lost, a moment I have anticipated for years. Following that, 24 will sign off tomorrow; a show I have avidly followed for even longer. Good things are coming to an end; I just hope they both live up to the hype.
I had my own season ending drama in the Coventry half-marathon yesterday. In theory, it was supposed to be a casual homage to my hometown, with the hard work done in Paris weeks ago. But the blistering heat (upwards of thirty degrees) and most gruelling route to date shattered this illusion within the first mile. Regular steep hills, rising temperatures and a bout of stomach pain were just some of the attractions of offer. Every time I settled to a comfortable pace, some other body part would scream out in protest. Throughout, the cardiovascular side was in turmoil as the hot air suffocated my lungs. This is not what I signed up for; running was supposed to be a thing of beauty but every step was sheer agony.
In these moments, my months of training did little to ease things up on the physical side. But distance running is won in the head. If you can honestly convince yourself that you are bigger than the moment, bigger than the race, you may just have a fighting chance. And there was no better way to convince myself than to draw upon my previous experience. Thoughts of the kilomathon flooded back but, above all, the last 10k of Paris. This wasn't any harder than that fateful day, surely? Actually, in many ways it was. Paris was pain, but comfortable breathing. Here, I faced unprecedented conditions, my breathing was out of whack and my muscles felt as fatigued as ever.
It's helpful, almost crucial, to have mantras to call upon in your darkest moments. As I laboured up the hills, I was Lance Armstrong ("pain is temporary but quitting is permamnent"). In the final miles, I was Rocky Balboa, "going the distance". And all the way, the strongest thoughts of stopping were entertained, but not realised. I've prided myself on never stopping, and certainly not during a race. Kurt Russell's "Miracle" speech proved pivotal; if I had ten races in these conditions I'd probably stop in nine. But not this race. In this race, I was the best distance runner of all time.
I came through in 1:48, a far cry from my PB of 1:38, but in many respects this was my most impressive outing. Performances are too easily judged by numbers, but in my mind to get through those 13.1 miles without stopping was up there even with Paris. And so, despite not having the pleasure race I was looking for, to regain that rare the feeling of accomplishment was well worth the blood, sweat, tears and giant blisters.
So the season really is over, but the journey continues. One step at a time, and my next move is simple enough; I will enjoy the next week, get an overdue sports massage and enjoy the moment.
I had my own season ending drama in the Coventry half-marathon yesterday. In theory, it was supposed to be a casual homage to my hometown, with the hard work done in Paris weeks ago. But the blistering heat (upwards of thirty degrees) and most gruelling route to date shattered this illusion within the first mile. Regular steep hills, rising temperatures and a bout of stomach pain were just some of the attractions of offer. Every time I settled to a comfortable pace, some other body part would scream out in protest. Throughout, the cardiovascular side was in turmoil as the hot air suffocated my lungs. This is not what I signed up for; running was supposed to be a thing of beauty but every step was sheer agony.
In these moments, my months of training did little to ease things up on the physical side. But distance running is won in the head. If you can honestly convince yourself that you are bigger than the moment, bigger than the race, you may just have a fighting chance. And there was no better way to convince myself than to draw upon my previous experience. Thoughts of the kilomathon flooded back but, above all, the last 10k of Paris. This wasn't any harder than that fateful day, surely? Actually, in many ways it was. Paris was pain, but comfortable breathing. Here, I faced unprecedented conditions, my breathing was out of whack and my muscles felt as fatigued as ever.
It's helpful, almost crucial, to have mantras to call upon in your darkest moments. As I laboured up the hills, I was Lance Armstrong ("pain is temporary but quitting is permamnent"). In the final miles, I was Rocky Balboa, "going the distance". And all the way, the strongest thoughts of stopping were entertained, but not realised. I've prided myself on never stopping, and certainly not during a race. Kurt Russell's "Miracle" speech proved pivotal; if I had ten races in these conditions I'd probably stop in nine. But not this race. In this race, I was the best distance runner of all time.
I came through in 1:48, a far cry from my PB of 1:38, but in many respects this was my most impressive outing. Performances are too easily judged by numbers, but in my mind to get through those 13.1 miles without stopping was up there even with Paris. And so, despite not having the pleasure race I was looking for, to regain that rare the feeling of accomplishment was well worth the blood, sweat, tears and giant blisters.
So the season really is over, but the journey continues. One step at a time, and my next move is simple enough; I will enjoy the next week, get an overdue sports massage and enjoy the moment.
Sunday 16 May 2010
Speed work
Earlier today I completed the Oxford Town&Gown 10k in a very pleasing time of 44:10. The race was everything I expected; the route mirrored much of my training runs and the tempo was high from the very first step. This made for a difficult race, with my chest tight throughout and no respite until the finish. This is what 10k is all about; if you're not feeling the burn, you simply aren't going fast enough. This presents a fundamentally different challenge to even the half-marathon, where one looks to maintain a decent but comfortable pace.
I've not done much speed work in recent months, aside from some intense sessions on the rowing machine. I'm not keen on pushing myself to the limit of extreme torture, where running becomes a chore. I passed that phase months ago and recognised the beauty of distance running. Still, to break my target of 45 minutes at the first time of asking leads me to wonder just how far I can continue to push my 10k time down. Today's effort was sterling, but far from perfect, with some slow kilometres towards the end.
For now the focus must remain with getting through my last big race of the season; the Coventry half-marathon next Sunday. I was already feeling a little stretched, but after the intense race today I feel almost broken. Almost, but not quite. I may just have a big race left in me and today's performance gives me confidence in setting a good time next week.
I've attempted one of each of the four main distances (10k, half-marathon, kilomathon and full marathon) but now I will embrace the challenge of beating a PB. Since the Birmingham half remains my most clinical performance, I am more hopeful than expectant, but it is the last race of the season, on home turf. Why not?
I've not done much speed work in recent months, aside from some intense sessions on the rowing machine. I'm not keen on pushing myself to the limit of extreme torture, where running becomes a chore. I passed that phase months ago and recognised the beauty of distance running. Still, to break my target of 45 minutes at the first time of asking leads me to wonder just how far I can continue to push my 10k time down. Today's effort was sterling, but far from perfect, with some slow kilometres towards the end.
For now the focus must remain with getting through my last big race of the season; the Coventry half-marathon next Sunday. I was already feeling a little stretched, but after the intense race today I feel almost broken. Almost, but not quite. I may just have a big race left in me and today's performance gives me confidence in setting a good time next week.
I've attempted one of each of the four main distances (10k, half-marathon, kilomathon and full marathon) but now I will embrace the challenge of beating a PB. Since the Birmingham half remains my most clinical performance, I am more hopeful than expectant, but it is the last race of the season, on home turf. Why not?
Thursday 13 May 2010
Nostalgia
Anticipation is building ahead of the Coventry half-marathon on May 23, which will signal the end to my running for this season. Thereafter, I will confine myself to gentle pleasure runs and use the time to address some underlying issues., such as my running gait and upper body strength. I've also signed up for the Oxford Town&Gown 10k, this coming Sunday, most of which will cover my training route. I'm feeling fresh enough, although my body may well cave at any moment.
It is strange then that my mind is consumed with poignant thoughts of a more optimistic time. This bizarre turn of events in my head was triggered on Tuesday night, following victory at the university Pool tournament. The St Anne's college team has been on a journey for four years; starting in the depths of the fourth division and rising to the summit last year, finishing 3rd in the top flight. The real glory lies with Cuppers though; the World Cup of Oxford University Pool. Following a devastating defeat in last year's quarter finals, under my captaincy, this year really was our last chance saloon, since all but two of the original eight man squad will no longer be at St Anne's next year. With the departure of my doubles partner Ed, our best player and only Cuppers winner (a mixed doubles champion), expectations were tempered, yet we eased our way to through the group stages as top seeds.
After a solid run to the semis, we hosted the unbeaten favourites, St Johns, and came through a tense 7-5 battle. In the final on Tuesday we faced our conquerors Keble from last year and avenged our bitter defeat, clinching a 7-5 win to take the honours. I won Varsity recently but it simply did not compare to this moment. All our hard work and passion came down to this one, final chance, and boy did we grab it with both hands.
After the initial euphoria died down, I dreamt a dream of times gone by. I realised this was my final great Pool moment, and there have been may of them, for the joy of playing with such a wonderful and talented group of people can not be matched. I've had my time, and what a great time, but now I must move on. My future Pool career is plunged in doubt, but for now I've signed off in true style with my first winner's trophy.
On Wednesday I hosted the annual St Anne's Mathematics dinner, introducing the guest speaker Hiten Patel. A colleague of mine during our undergraduate days with whom I have formed a fond friendship over the years. His spirit and energy during the evening, in both his talk and the dinner, reminded me of those glory years of my undergraduate days where I was full of love and passion for my subject, whilst being surrounded by some of my closest friends.
Great days indeed, and I will never reach those heights in Oxford again. With my zest for the subject waning and my passions diverted elsewhere to running, Pool and whatever else, I feel I am unable to fulfill whatever potential I have in my current role. Teaching will always offer a profound sense of accomplishment and the PhD itself will prove a defining achievement if I ever complete it, but my approach is nothing more than graft at this stage. I yearn for the fire to burn within me once more, a fire that running has kept alight but which needs re-igniting with a major attitude shift. I must accept that I need to get out and re-define my goals, as I do not belong in the academic world.
To answer the frequently posed question, I have little to no idea where to go beyond Oxford. This place is all I've known for the last seven years and I need more reflection before I commit to a lifelong career. I refuse to submit to a generic role. There are certain goals I will not back down on, like raising the ambition of the youth, and any career I settle on must leave scope for me to do this. If that means it takes a little longer or some creative thinking to get there so be it. I'm all about the flair.
For now, I'll content myself with the 10k on Sunday. With the absence of music (no iPods etc allowed!) it may not be my most joyous run, but a sub 45 minute excursion will make the medal feel well deserved.
It is strange then that my mind is consumed with poignant thoughts of a more optimistic time. This bizarre turn of events in my head was triggered on Tuesday night, following victory at the university Pool tournament. The St Anne's college team has been on a journey for four years; starting in the depths of the fourth division and rising to the summit last year, finishing 3rd in the top flight. The real glory lies with Cuppers though; the World Cup of Oxford University Pool. Following a devastating defeat in last year's quarter finals, under my captaincy, this year really was our last chance saloon, since all but two of the original eight man squad will no longer be at St Anne's next year. With the departure of my doubles partner Ed, our best player and only Cuppers winner (a mixed doubles champion), expectations were tempered, yet we eased our way to through the group stages as top seeds.
After a solid run to the semis, we hosted the unbeaten favourites, St Johns, and came through a tense 7-5 battle. In the final on Tuesday we faced our conquerors Keble from last year and avenged our bitter defeat, clinching a 7-5 win to take the honours. I won Varsity recently but it simply did not compare to this moment. All our hard work and passion came down to this one, final chance, and boy did we grab it with both hands.
After the initial euphoria died down, I dreamt a dream of times gone by. I realised this was my final great Pool moment, and there have been may of them, for the joy of playing with such a wonderful and talented group of people can not be matched. I've had my time, and what a great time, but now I must move on. My future Pool career is plunged in doubt, but for now I've signed off in true style with my first winner's trophy.
On Wednesday I hosted the annual St Anne's Mathematics dinner, introducing the guest speaker Hiten Patel. A colleague of mine during our undergraduate days with whom I have formed a fond friendship over the years. His spirit and energy during the evening, in both his talk and the dinner, reminded me of those glory years of my undergraduate days where I was full of love and passion for my subject, whilst being surrounded by some of my closest friends.
Great days indeed, and I will never reach those heights in Oxford again. With my zest for the subject waning and my passions diverted elsewhere to running, Pool and whatever else, I feel I am unable to fulfill whatever potential I have in my current role. Teaching will always offer a profound sense of accomplishment and the PhD itself will prove a defining achievement if I ever complete it, but my approach is nothing more than graft at this stage. I yearn for the fire to burn within me once more, a fire that running has kept alight but which needs re-igniting with a major attitude shift. I must accept that I need to get out and re-define my goals, as I do not belong in the academic world.
To answer the frequently posed question, I have little to no idea where to go beyond Oxford. This place is all I've known for the last seven years and I need more reflection before I commit to a lifelong career. I refuse to submit to a generic role. There are certain goals I will not back down on, like raising the ambition of the youth, and any career I settle on must leave scope for me to do this. If that means it takes a little longer or some creative thinking to get there so be it. I'm all about the flair.
For now, I'll content myself with the 10k on Sunday. With the absence of music (no iPods etc allowed!) it may not be my most joyous run, but a sub 45 minute excursion will make the medal feel well deserved.
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