I'm reading Goddard's book Still Running, and it is making me think about why I run (and about why I am still running).
The book is written by a lifelong practitioner and scholar of Zen Buddhism, and it includes reference lists for each chapter, mostly on Buddhism, but also citing Noakes (Lore of Running) and other rigorous scholarly works. This is (for me, an academic) both reassuring and useful because if I want to I can chase up another book later if I want more on a topic.
Goddard covers a lot of ground, and she includes a practical exercise at the end of each chapter. I was surprised to find almost all of these useful. For example, she recommends a 2:3 breathing rhythm (I use 2:2, meaning 2 steps on the inhale and 2 steps on the exhale), and has a set of running instructions for both experimenting with, and choosing, an effective pattern. I have come to my own 2:2 pattern after reading Daniel's Running Formula.
Goddard also covers cadence, and the golden 180 number that so many others cite as ideal. She is quick to note that 180 is bandied about as an 'elite' figure, and that we should work up to it, building consistency through our practice. You don't need to be a Buddhist to appreciate this book, and you don't need to be a runner. This an introductory text for becoming a (better) runner; it also introduces some fundamental concepts (such as breathing and mindfulness) in Buddhist practice and philosophy (as noted above, with references).
Sometimes (especially after an injury) I'm almost surprised that I'm still running. I've met middle-aged men who seem to be former runners who will often cite injury or laziness as a reason for not continuing with the sport. For me, one of the biggest ongoing challenges to continuing to run is that the social aspect of it has been pulled away for over a year now. One of my last 'social' runs was the Wokingham Half Marathon in February 2020. I ran a few times with a small group in August as well, but since then I've run roughly 1000 miles on my own.
As a cumulative fact I'd say this has been harder than being injured. Running solo has its upside but done too often it comes to feel like an overuse injury: non-acute but gradually noticed as pain over time until it almost comes to feel debilitating.
Opportunities are starting to emerge to run in groups but the sad fact is that my last group run in August ended in acute injury: a shin splint pain that made me hobble home and that even three weeks rest failed to fully rehabilitate. It took me until December to finally be able to begin to build up to 20 miles a week, and then very gradually up to 40/week and into an ultra-marathon training plan (from the book Relentless Forward Progress, the easiest plan in the book, in preparation for July 2021's Race to the Stones).
But even now I manage the shin pain which has flared up again at times, in part by adjusting my pace on the fly and in the moment, something you can't really do when you're pegged to a metronomic group-paced run.
So I keep running on my own, managing 20-45 miles a week depending on how I'm feeling. Often it is slow going, but other times I surprise myself by doing fast-paced runs that feel easy. It is those pacier/easier efforts with a small group that I really miss, and that I fear might never return.
Even if they don't (and they will), I'll still keep running, and with Askwith and others, I'll practice slow running, running like a deer (visualisation), or maybe even blind running; in other words, I'll keep experimenting and having fun, which is another aspect of Still Running: it makes running fun again.
