Born to Run?

Zola Budd could hold the key to my foot knack.

At least that's what I'm trying to tell myself as we head towards the end of January and all I've managed is a light jog to the Clevedon chippy.

I've just finished the illuminating "Born to Run" by Christopher McDougall. It would be a former war correspondent who delves into long distance running. But it's not just any old account of all American all stars breaking the pain barrier over nauseating distances.

This is a tale of a Mexican tribe called the Tarahumara, with a shovel load of science and US ultra running history acting as light mortar to the real substance.

The shock revelation is this: How can guys who run in sandals and shun competition with the outside world beat the best the US have to offer? Because they run for fun and aren't fussy about their footwear meaning they run more on the front of their feet.

Should we throw away our orthotics and pricey Nikeys? Yet to be entirely convinced but it does make sense to strengthen your feet more by mixing things up.

I think Bob would approve, achieving his feat well before the days of Michael Jordan and co. helped revolutionise our footwear and the way we run. Didn't he train bare foot and save his plimsoles for the big day?

Right now I'll try anything, and it got me to the chip shop and back for starters.

Do you love physios too?

On my third visit to the physio...

Andy: Hi there, I've been doing the exercises but still no improvement in my foot from last time.

Physio: It is a really interesting presentation.

I don't know what more to do.

Perhaps I should get you to see my colleague who specialises in feet.

I specialise in knees....

Foot knack

There is a reason why you should stick to training plans. It avoids foot knack.

From running 30-40 miles a week to walking 100km straight off after two nights on the lash took its toll and a stress fracture has wrecked my summer.

Currently bouncing off the walls to the extent I've even taken up rowing.

BG set back number seven.

Still, it allows Ian more time to crack my half marathon PB and me to learn the art of patience.

I would much rather be doing the following though:

Trailwalker 2009

As the dawn broke over the South Downs, early morning dog walkers could be forgiven for rubbing their eyes.

Team Smurf emerged from the night intact as a unit, if lacking a little of our early banter and carrying slightly less vaseline than when we started.

JJ's boxer shorts were the only casualty en route. Cast aside once the rub of cotton pinned to thigh by blue polyester tights became too much.

Our early pace saw us heading for an easy sub 24 hours but as blisters took their toll and John Wayne imitations took hold due to chaffing, our passage through the rolling fields over 100km from Petersfield to Lewes to Brighton slowed.

I was one of the lucky ones. My feet survived unscathed thanks in no small part to my discovery at Arum's recommendation of socks by www.wingwear.com.

The only peril which befell me was falling asleep as we walked shortly before the sun returned to warm my frozen frame. For I foolishly felt it unecessary to take a fleece with me through the night and suffered horribly from the perishing wind sweeping in off the sea.

We finished at Brighton Racecourse shortly after 9am, 26 hours after starting. I was tired but not done. Not done that is until I had made it back to Bristol at 10pm that night via Horsham and Victoria bus station.

The painful part came with the realisation the next day that I had factured my foot. It's been three weeks now almost and while healing I'm still a way off getting back out running. Top tip: when your foot starts hurting, loosen the laces, don't just take another magic pill.

Trailwalker was an exceptionally well organised event, supported magnificently by Oxfam volunteers, who cheered walkers on from every checkpoint throughout the night, and ably staffed by the ever-smiling Gurkhas.

I can't recommend it highly enough. Get a team, get out there, raise money and amaze yourself at how far you can go.

Fed up of sponsoring 5km races?

I knew it wouldn't be long before the training plan went out the window.

Cue a call from Arum, the mate I met on my first mountain marathon with Nick.

"Andy, we're a man short..."

Very good cause, very long day. Please help: http://www.justgiving.com/walk100Kin30hours/

Closer than you think

It is tempting to blame house hunting as the key to less running this month - but that would be lying.

The prospect of a move out to Clevedon can but increase the number of miles passing under the feet. Not only is there the coastline to explore, there's the tricky aspect of still managing to get to work without the car...

Still, inspired by On Thin Ice on the telly, recent interviews with people who are going places such as Chris Wood and Jack Butland and simple winners like Norman Hunter, the prospect of running 13 miles to work, then home becomes ever more doable.

And it's a hop, skip and a jump to next Easter and a BG attempt. Isn't that right Ian? Nick?

Ultramarathon man

Dean Karnazes is unique. I've just finished his book, "Ultramarathon man: Confessions of an all-night runner", which charts his running career from the day he had a breakdown in a bar after work to the moment he broke through the 200-mile barrier.

The inspirational aspect is his enthusiasm and the fact he didn't properly take up the sport until he was 30.

Ignore if you can the fact he was a champion athlete at school, graced the cover of various windsurfing magazines in the meantime, and can get by on four hours sleep a night.

It's an easy read filled with plenty of useful tips, gung-ho quotes and up-lifting moments. But it is a book that shouldn't be handed to the likes of impressionable people such as myself who really need to learn to walk before they can run, let alone hear tales of the Western States Endurance Run which makes the BG sound like a warm-up.

A logical next step from Monday's four-mile 'Blaise Blazer' hill race. (26 mins and 13th in case you are reading Ian!)

Now where are my running shoes...

That sinking feeling...

Gasping for air as we descended the final steps into Oxwich Bay after a sickening detour all the way up to the castle and back down to sea level, the screaming in our legs was wiped away by the view in front of us.

The beach was teeming with holiday makers revelling in the sunshine but for one poor soul who had just dropped his speed boat off into the water the day had just turned dark.

The tide comes in quickly there and his red van was swallowed by the sea within minutes of getting stuck.

My run from Llangennith along the coastal path had been tiring and completed only with the addition of Orpen from Port Eynon as company, but this man's fight to save his vehicle was relentless.

First he tried pulling it by hand with helpers; then using a jet ski as the water levels rose. A tractor was next to come to his aid but as the water crept forward up the beach, so the tractor had to retreat as well, always just too soon for the rope to be connected, leaving more rope to be found.

When it did reach, the driver accelerated too hard and snapped the lifeline on three occasions before admitting defeat.

The owner though, a local from the sounds of his accent, had no such luxury and resorted to using his own speedboat.

By now the van was floating but again the rope simply wasn't strong enough to hold the forces put upon it.

As we left half an hour later, in need of food and water, an anchor was produced and the painful decision made to secure the van and wait for the tide.

Lesson learned: patience and care required when playing with the sea or running along its edge, unless you like detours, rocks and dicing with oncoming waves... it's all about the timing.

As Nick pointed out during one of our over nighters in the Lakes. "Andy, you did check it was going to be a full moon didn't you? It's looking pretty dark."

Apricots and bacon butties in Bristol

Lunchtime offered a fine chance for a 7 km loop around the Bristol harbourside with Mike. The downside being the pain of having to run past the Brunel Buttery and the lingering smell of bacon sandwiches in your clothing.

Next time we could just take the boat. And eat.

The upside was discovering on my return I had my better half's lunch, as well as my own.

Sorry gorgeous. Dried apricots are the best snack food besides chocolate, and bacon butties.

Not quite missing in action

I may not have been writing but I have been running. And the following is a fair checklist to some of the best places to run in the UK and further afield.

April - Norfolk coastline. A gorgeous jaunt from Gresham through Sheringham Park to the coast and along the beach to Overstrand. Ice cream never tasted so good.




Easter - Putting Mike Atter through his paces running the Gower coastal path from Llanmadoc round to Oxwich Bay.




May - In the Lake District introducing another Aussie, Gerard, to the delights of Leg 1: the long slog up Skiddaw, the hidden trenches in the heather on Great Calva and the majestic views from the top of Blencathra looking down Leg 2 to Helvellyn before the sharp descent to Threlkeld (first pic below).




On the second day he flew round most of Leg 3 from Dunmail raise to Bowfell and down to the pint of Old Speckled Hen at Old Dungeon Ghyll.

July - Some proper mountain running with Nick Williams in the form of the Parque Nacional de Ordesa y Monte Perdido (nearest town Bielsa).

And December - A half marathon round the end of the Gower with (from left to right: Ian, me, Kev, Sarah, Nathan) on a crystal clear day which began with ice on the ground and ended with flames in the sky.

The lack of shorts was a regrettable, if liberating, experience. The red socks were a moment of genius. Ideal for staying warm, lowered to cool off, provided a red rag target for Ian and gave me my first real understanding of how compression can help squeeze a few more miles out of tired muscles to place a credible 17th.

And they had Match of the Day on in the bar.