This column by Simon Gear first appeared in Runners World SA in October 2010
I’m not alone in feeling that running should be more directly linked to gifts from above. When I’ve packed on a few pounds and I’m struggling to get back from a winter’s break, I really do believe that the first long run should miraculously transform me into something lithe, supple and fast as lightning. Or at the very least, a marathon should be an automatic ticket to a perfect body mass index and guilt free snacking through the next year.
Alas, like all good guardians, the gods seems determined to teach us the benefit of the process, rather than just the opportunity to reap the rewards. Getting up before sunrise, day in and out, to meet up with your local morning group, builds character. Eating more fresh fruit and veg than a fast food diet can provide puts colour in your cheeks. Only considering pudding once you’ve eaten all your greens didn’t end when you were 6.
The sad (or joyful) truth of the matter is that if you want to have everything that a running lifestyle promises you, you do actually have to eat like a serious athlete. I’ll never get over the shock of reading that Lance Armstrong measured his pasta before each meal, to make sure that he wasn’t packing on unnecessary pounds. This from a guy cycling a million miles a week. Then, this very magazine drops the bombshell a couple of months back that both Bruce Fordyce and Shaun Meikeljohn are on diets. Admittedly Bruce garnered my lifetime admiration and thanks for including 3 large whiskies in his daily allowance but the point is still there. You want to look like an Olympic athlete? You’ve got to eat like a super model.
Further disturbing news fell across my desk earlier this month too. You know all those health benefits that an active lifestyle gives you? Those are all still valid, but the definition of active has changed. Your 30 minutes of evening running is still great, but the predictor of your keeling over from something painful and expensive is actually to do with how much time you spend sitting down during the day. So if you, like everyone else in the western world, keep your exercise and your job in very different pockets of your life, you could be doing yourself no favours at all.
The trick, it seems, is to get all holistic and new age and Zen about the whole thing. If you’re a runner between 5 and 6 in the morning, you need to stay a runner all day to get the full benefits. Doing 70km a week is still going to be improved by taking the stairs, eating salad for lunch and drinking water between each beer.
Careful examination of my mates has thrown up some interesting data. There appear to be only two types of top amateur athletes once you get past your 30th birthday. There are those who are obsessive and have very understanding partners (or indeed, less understanding ex-partners) and there are those who live and breathe running, incorporating it into every aspect of their lives. The difference is subtle. The first lot shoehorn running into their lives. Family, work and play all stand aside in deference to the pursuit of a race goal. They talk running, read running and eat running. And quietly drive themselves and those around them mad.
The other lot are the ones which I envy. Men and women for whom running becomes a central pivot of who they are. They run to work, or spend their lunch breaks running. They pick employers based on the quality of their showers, not their retirement plans. Their lives are full and colourful and running is always there, but in the background. Maybe it’s a question of time management. Maybe it’s as prosaic as just having good time management. Maybe it’s the difference between love and obsession. Or maybe it’s just the difference between having a dream and living one.