Still Running (weakly). Issue 156

PAST – inspiration – “I may be 50 years old, but I still love to sweat like hell,” said Ron Hill, the 1969 European and 1970 Commonwealth Marathon Champion, articulating a feeling that no doubt resonates with many runners – especially us older ones.

Those words remind me of the Canon’s Yeoman’s prologue in Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales (written 1387-1400) – keep up at the back there! – “Oh, what a joy it was to see him sweat” – when describing an alchemist hard at work.  The observer delighted in seeing someone, as one commentator put it, “bursting at the seams with the characteristics of his kind.”

I also think of Endurance, the 1998 docudrama about the life Haile Gebrselassie (1996 and 2000 Olympic 10,000 champ).  There is a sequence towards the end where he is training – probably running faster than 5-minute miles – and he is laughing and playing with the cameraman.  He too seems most completely himself, absolutely ‘in flow,’ and indeed overflowing with what it means to him to be a runner.

But I think we all love to see runners giving it all they’ve got.  Marty Liquori (himself a 3:52.2 miler) recalled seeing Steve Prefontaine winning the 1972 Olympics Trials 5000, having finally broken away from George Young, the 1968 Olympic steeplechase bronze medallist: “The thing I remember about it was that coming off the last turn, Pre was completely dead – just wobbling up the straightaway.  He hit the inside rail and almost stumbled, and the fans were loving it, because he was completely spent when he hit the line.”

Regular readers will remember similar stories of medal ceremonies having to be delayed while Murray Halberg (NZ) and followers recovered after the 1960 Olympic 5000, following the Kiwi’s sprint from 3 laps out, and while Tom Courtney (US) and Derek Johnson (GB) recuperated after their titanic battle down the home straight of the 1956 Olympic 800!

PRESENT – perspiration – And then there is the opposite – almost ubiquitous today – where the winner breaks the tape with a new world record, barely breathing, collects their national flag, and departs on a lap of honour, running almost as fast as they did in the race!

Hicham El Guerrouj always looked that way, even when setting the 1500 and mile world records that still stand today.  But, further back, Abebe Bikila of Ethiopia performed callisthenics on the infield immediately after crossing the finish line of the 1964 Olympic Marathon, having won by over 4 minutes.  (He had undergone an appendectomy just 40 days before the race.)

Similarly, Christophe Hohne of East Germany won the 1968 Mexico City Olympic 50km walk by 10 minutes (!!) – at altitude and in blazing heat.  When he crossed the line, he rolled up the finishing tape as a souvenir!

Hohne (85) may still be competing.  He certainly won the 2016 World Masters 20km championships in Perth in 2:17:36 from Devon’s Edmund (‘Edbanger’) Shillabeer.

FUTURE – suggestion – How you finish a race can make all the difference to how you feel about your performance, no matter what has gone on before.

If you can “screw your courage to the sticking place” (Lady Macbeth) and tell yourself that this won’t last much longer, and that you can still summon up a bit more effort, and, look, there are two runners in front of you that look to be flagging, then you can end on a high note.

Obviously, it helps to be in control of yourself – to be more Hicham or Hohne than Halberg or Hill – but, even in the depths of distance-induced discombobulation, if you have trained your mind to ignore your body’s urgent pleas for a cessation of hostilities, you may be able to find that little bit more pace.

Thommo and I used to call it, “tightening the toe-straps,” after cyclists’ literal preparation for the turmoil of the final sprint.  Our preparation would be more mental and emotional than physical, but nevertheless it signalled a noticeable shift from running on replaceable energy sources to calling on those that could only be restored after the race – our minds writing cheques that our bodies could not immediately repay, if you like – literally going into debt.

And it is not just about position.  I remember being surprised that an American runner friend of mine distained sprinting for the finish.  He was almost British in his feeling that it was ‘not the done thing.’  “But, Jim,” I said, “It could buy you 10 seconds.  It could be the difference between getting a personal best and not.”

The other thing to say here of course is that you can try to start your finishing kick – as Thommo and I used to try and do – before reaching the security of knowing you can maintain such speed to the finish.  It could perhaps lead to a stumbling last 100 metres, in the manner of Steve Prefontaine.  You could, as my son puts it, burn too many of your matches.  It could mean losing your lunch.  But it could also engender a previously unknown degree of satisfaction and fatigue-induced, light-headed euphoria.