It has been news for a while now, but it doesn’t make it any less tragic that Caballo Blanco has passed away.
Micah True was introduced to the world at large by the seminal Born to Run, and for many people – myself included – has been a source of inspiration.
This article, and its comments below, by Christopher McDougall shows just how much he was cared for around the world.
“McOso, who cares how Geronimo died?” he’d say. “Let’s just talk about how he lived.”
Run Free.
With my first ultra fast approaching, my training has been far from ideal. Whilst a week skiing worked wonders for my leg strength, it did nothing to help condition my legs for the repetetive slog of 33 cold, hard miles.
Added to this the last week I have had rather debilitating digestive issues and have been horribly dehydrated, despite trying to over hydrate, and been unable to run as a result. So far from ideal – the key stage when I just need to be getting out on my feet and getting miles in so far has been spent doing neither.
I’m always in two minds as to whether or not I can compete at an event like this: logic tells me no, at least not the first time. Hopefully common sense will prevail; make sure I finish one first, and maybe next time I can try and be a bit more competetive; ideally with better preparations.
On a brighter note I did manage to [poorly] capture a rather pretty sun rise.
The main advantage of running in the mornings through winter is that you get to mark the advance of the seasons, and almost will Spring in as you move each foot forward.
The beauty of dawn still never ceases to amaze me, and I consider myself fortunate in that I actually can get up at an uncivilised hour to trot off the 15 miles to work; because despite niggles here and there, it really isn’t a chore. It is the most peaceful time of the day, I didn’t see a soul out on the pavement until around half way through my run this morning, and whilst that is unusual for a city centre – and the route I take – it was a liberating experience.
The first person I did pass had a gorgeous spaniel who looked most perplexed as to why someone was chugging along with a backpack wearing some ludicrously bright and reflective clothing, a head torch set to dazzle, and had yoghurt all over his legs.
Of course, it wasn’t until 7 or 8 miles in when I stopped for a hot cross bun and a drink that I actually noticed the yoghurt: a spattering down the front of my legs. I have an unfortunate but small hole in the bottom of my rucksack, and sure enough one of my yoghurt pots had burst in my bag, and dripped out down onto my legs. Oh well – no harm done, other than a bag full of yoghurt.
Dawn had broken around 7:50 this morning, and I sauntered into the village where I work at 8:10am, running smoothly. I felt like I had had a good run; my average speed was ticking along nicely, and I was enjoying myself thoroughly. Being a regular commuter by bike, you get to recognise the other regulars and say good morning as you pass. It’s nice passing them as they recognise you with a look of surprise because you’re not on your bike, but still take the time to say good morning. It’s little things like this that help take the mind out of the work, and just enjoy the run.
A great enjoyable run this morning, encompassing just under 15 miles in 1 hour 48 minutes was only slightly marred by getting to work and realising that the small spattering of yoghurt on the front of my legs was only marred by the huge deluge, that dwarfed it, on the back. The only way I can really describe it is that it probably looked – to the dozens of people I passed and who passed me on the commute to work – like I’d shat myself and let it just run down my legs, after eating something altogether unpleasant the night before.
Oh well. It will wash out!
I did approach the Christmas period with a sense of foreboding – it’s a usual time to eat and drink too much, put on some weight, and lose all the fitness I’d worked so hard to build after injuring my ankle.
However, I did not eat to excess, and I managed a fell race on Boxing day. My legs in truth still haven’t recovered fully; my running is dreadful at present. The daily cycle commute of 30 miles is a wonderful cross train however, and whilst my legs feel like two blocks of lead, I am encouraged by my fitness. I don’t appear to have lost much, (not that I had a huge amount before Christmas mind!), and I have lost half a kilo. Ideally I would like to lose 5-8 KGs for racing, but given that I’m so far off being able to race yet, I can’t be too unhappy.
So today I will be entering the Haworth Hobble. And a-hobbling I shall be. I plan to walk/jog the distance this year, my real aim is to do a good years work on the hills, and then run it next year. I can’t see me ever getting near the winning times which are usually and incredibly down near the 4 hour mark, but I’d like to be able to compete, and that will require a long set up time. Plans after that vary, but they certainly include moving house in order to be able to train in hills!
Ever since my serious ankle injury earlier in the year, it has been a rough and at times painful recovery for me, mentally more than physically. The physical pain is something I’m used too and have had to cope with a lot, but mentally I get frustrated and upset if I can’t run.
I was a bit anxious setting off this morning, it’s a long way to work, and although I’ve been running pretty well recently, I’ve not done the half marathon distance (save one run that went somewhat close after going wrong on a Monday night,) in an awful long time.
Getting up when its dark has never really been difficult for me, I’m an early morning person. And given how warm it is for the time of year, it was actually nice getting outside so early. My part of the world is peaceful at 6:30am, and it is quite a fulfilling experience treading the streets without meeting anyone for at least half an hour.
I ran through town to Histon, where I picked up the path on the Guided Busway that runs from Cambridge through to St Ives. This is long and very straight. My total run was 14.21 miles, and most of it was done on this path, pretty slowly. It was at times demoralising, because way down the long route one can see traffic lights. It’s easy to run along setting markers, and to set these sets of lights as markers made things feel good for a while, and the euphoric feeling would slowly tail off as I’d realise that they were still a long way ahead.
Still, when dawn broke at roughly 8am, I stopped to have a drink, turn off my light and watch the sun crest over the horizon. I’m so disappointed that I had no camera with me as it was one of the most beautiful sights I’ve seen in a long time. The suns rise in turn gave rise to sheer enthusiam within myself as well – I finished the last few miles considerably faster than I’d run all morning, and I got to work and into the shower feeling good. Far from fresh, but feeling good. And feeling so pleased with myself. I’m far off what one would call a reasonable half marathon time, but the simple fact that I ran the distance so soon after my injury made me feel amazing.
And I haven’t stopped grinning.
Ok so I was a late comer to the “read this” party for this trendy book, but I loved it. Whilst I recognise a few flaws with the way some of it is written, it is exhilarating and inspirational at the same time.
As a marathon runner, and an aspiring ultra runner (I’m getting there, I’m getting there – 6 months and counting I’ve been injury free *touch wood*) there is a lot in this book for me. I’ve been slowly building up leg strength in order to get myself ready for barefoot running, and I’m now managing a few outings a week, I can’t see myself running an entire marathon barefoot, but I’d like to get to the 10k stage fairly soon. Who knows though?
It’s been a while since I had a compulsive page-turner, but I can’t wait to finish this book.