France & Haruki Murakami

A strange combination I grant but for me they came together last week. Had a lovely nine days in France, visiting family in Nantes then exploring northern Brittany, all in hot sunshine. I don't generally read running books, they are usually very one dimensional and shallow, although I have of course read the two mighty tomes that make up Ron Hill's autobiography, an anthology that should be issued to everybody who joins a running club so that today's athletes can understand what the sport should be about. Anyway, in France I decided to read Haruki Murakami's much acclaimed 'What I talk about when I talk about running.' It is a very philosophical paperback despite some dubious translation from the author's native Japanese into Americanised English.

"In each shave is a philosophy. No matter how mundane some action might appear, keep at it long enough and it becomes a contemplative, even meditative act."

In Nantes I really missed not being able to train, I have a lovely course that takes me down past the university where Claudie studied - it is normal to go to your local uni in France rather than get into massive debt just for the sake of numerous hangovers - along the river Erdre, a tributary of the Loire; up 120 steep steps to cross a bridge over the river; down the other side; a circuit of the magnificent Stade de la Beaujoire, where World Cup football & rugby has been played and where Nantes currently sadly ply their trade in the second division of the French league; a tour of the beautifully landscaped surrounding gardens; back across the river; a lap of the horse racing circuit (always loads of joggers, so good for the ego, a bit like Central Park in New York), then home. About 25km in total.

"You have to continually transmit the object of your focus to your entire body ... gradually you'll expand the limits of what you're able to do. Almost imperceptively you'll raise the bar. Repeat & repeat. Patience is a must but results will come."

In Brittany I discovered some lovely running trails, albeit whilst walking, driving and checking out maps. This was all important stuff as we hunt for the best location to buy property. A little training camp would go down perfectly. Also checked out golf courses for that rapidly approaching dreaded day (is it here already?) when I finally give in and consign the running shoes to gardening & car washing duties.

"I have only a few reasons to keep on running, and a truckload of them to quit. All I can do is keep those few reasons nicely polished."

I am still struggling badly with my Achilles. Religiously doing my eccentric exercises but struggling with the concept that pain is good, as instructed by my consultant. It feels counter intuitive to be creating even more pain in my foot in seeking a remedy. More on this next time as well as the lowdown on my visit next Monday to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford. Yes, I've decided to go ahead and have an intravenous drip of pamidronate fed into me to attack my osteitis. Look out next time for all the gory details; I've been warned that there are some fairly nasty side effects.

"When I'm running I don't have to talk to anybody & don't have to listen to anybody. This is a part of my day I can't do without."

Finally, yet another tragedy has hit the running world. Steve Wheeler, a top runner for many years with Bourton Road Runners, died in a freak accident last week. He was a similar age to me and although I didn't know him that well, he was one of those guys that was always around. By all accounts he was a real character - in fact from reading some of the anecdotes on Bourton's website, he had similar oddball traits to my great friend Stephen Instone who tragically drowned a year ago. Bourton, a club with whom Cirencester has strong links (the first mob match between our two clubs took place in July) has had more that its fair share of tragedies in recent years; my thoughts go out to Steve's family but also to all at Bourton at this sad & difficult time.