Running viral

Running has gone viral in the time of coronavirus. Everyone is talking about how to stay positive and about how running is the perfect antidote to a currently pessimistic global situation. By 'everyone' I mean that echo chamber of positivity to which I've anchored myself in the form of following social media accounts dedicated to running. Mostly these are people, I find, who have already been dealing with different forms of isolation such as having partners who work far away for long periods of time; stay-at-home parents; work-at-home academics; older runners; and a vast array of 'oddly motivated' individuals.

I am just such an oddball, and that is why I started this blog. So, I'm treating the outbreak as an opportunity, as a test of my resolve to never stop loving being outside, preferably at a sub-9 min/mile pace.

Forsberg's Sky Running book finally go me going on documenting a set of running observations throughout the period of 'lockdown' here in Britain.  I want to do at least one running blog entry per day to document how I dealt with the day's challenges:

Day 1
This is actually the combination of the blur of days leading up to last night's (Monday night) club run.  On Sunday I actually felt pretty depressed, despite the fact that I had had a brilliant club run from Bracknell's Lookout, doing a 9 min/mile pace with six or so other 'senior' (40+) runners. These guys are really inspiring and I get the feeling that every single one of them has a lifetime commitment to various arts of running: some a bit more 'ironman'/triathlon-focused; others perhaps a bit more 'ultra'; or just plain committed everyday runners.  Whatever the type, we the group was tight, and we managed a brilliant sunny forest run with some excellent hills (especially downhills!), technical tricky/twisty bits, and a lot of cameraderie.  The most useful of which was a detailed discussion of how to tackle my upcoming (July) Race to the Stones ultra.

Now that was just the backdrop to last night's run around the streets of Bracknell again, mostly men, but here we included a female runner, and one or two slightly younger males. You will often get this in the 'faster' groups (we were doing 8:30min/mile last night), but rarely in the fastest: a mix of male/female runners that offers a different conversational dynamic. Let's just say it's sometimes a bit less ego-y, not to mention that the pace is tends to be more even.  It makes for a really enjoyable experience.

I wouldn't say last night was THE breakthrough, but it was a start. As alluded to above, something made me get up this morning and start the Forsberg book, and that really got me into a positive headspace.

So, the other thing that is happening is not only am I renewing my daily commitments to running during the time of the virus, but I am also renewing my commitment to reading about positive experiences of running.  If you want something that is almost relentlessly negative and pessimistic to offer a counter-challenge to what I am saying here then read Mark Rowlands "Running with the Pack":

Rowland's book is excellent, but it is a downer (I'll not pull my punches), and in that it represents its own kind of challenge: how to be realistic, for example, about the ravages of age.  But by examining my preconceived notions of ageing, installed by mostly older white guys like Rowlands and Noakes, I am also able to overcome them.

Just look at all the over 50s continuing to break their PBs!  I did this just the other day at Wokingham, and plan to do so again very soon!

Another thing I found positive was that in Boris Johnson's speech last night, his revised advice included him urging people to go out and exercise because it is good for your immune system.  From what I've heard (about Spain for example) this is quite a contrast to how other countries are handling this, with even solitary runners being told to go home.

Let's hope it never comes to this here in the UK.  Yes, if I get sick I'll self-isolate.  Otherwise, I'll see you on the streets or in the forest (don't be offended if I run past or just wave!)

EPIC RUNNING 2019

In April 2019 we moved to Bracknell. I immediately started running socially with Bracknell Forest Runners. Keep in mind that I only started running about three years ago, at age 46, when I completed the couch to 5k program with Runnymede Runners (2016).

It was a great summer, including several races and epic runs; and some great reading:

April: Brighton Marathon
I got my marathon time to sub 4 hours after overcoming an injury that lasted into March, but overcame the injury through doing 4 hour (16 mile) walks; and through doing 19 mile run-walks. I had to limit my running to only once or twice a week up until only a few weeks to the race.  However, I had built up fitness to a relatively high level starting with the previous (2018) year's Windsor Half (PB at 1:41) and Cabbage Patch (10 mile PB at 1:14) efforts, as well as a complete set of 4 Surrey League XC races.

Due to how much I enjoyed Brighton, its marathon, and the energy of the race and its supporters, I have signed up for next year's event again, and am shooting for 3:30 or better.

June: Endure24; Forest 5
I completed my third Endure24 event by completing 7 laps of 5 miles with a small (5 person) men's team that I had committed to earlier in the year. This was my last race wearing the Runnymede Runners shirt.

Immediately after having discharged my duties to the RRs (but sad to be leaving the Egham area running) I had a very happy experience in my first official race with Bracknell Forest Runners at the Forest 5 race in Bracknell Forest.  The atmosphere was lovely and supportive and fun, and I beat all my previous times from just a few days before at Endure, getting my PB for 5 mile (34:47). It's a really nice run through the forest at a great time of year and I will make an effort to consistently run this race in future.

July: Race to the Stones
My first ultramarathon (49km) went well for the most part. In my enthusiasm I started off way to quickly and had to walk a bit at the end. With practice this will get better, and a practice 30 miler later in the summer proves it (see below).  With that said, Race to the Stones is a beautiful race along the ridgeway, and my plan is to sign up again for next year, but to do the even longer 100km race all in one go.

August: Cornwall, Englefield 10k
I took a writing/retreat week in Cornwall, my first time in the area, and discovered the beautiful coastal path close to St Ives. Running out into 'Poldark country' was just so inspiring and lovely. I also did more town/road-oriented running and got some hill training at the same time. St Ives is now one of my favourite towns.

Englefield: At the last minute they changed the length of this race to 10.5 km for some reason but otherwise it could very well have been a PB despite extremely challenging conditions, including 30C temperatures and hilly, uneven terrain throughout the course. This is because my last 'official' (timed) 10k race was the Staines 10k in early 2018, some time ago now, at a time when my fitness was increasing drastically.

The second toenail on my left foot turned black after this race, and it remains discoloured but otherwise not painful or uncomfortable.

I treated the Englefield 10k (as well as a 5k handicap with BFRs in August) as a training run for the Windsor Half Marathon.

September: Ottawa (Parliament, Rideau Canal), Niagara, Montreal (Lachine Canal, Mount Royal), Laurentians 30 miler; Edinburgh
The first two weeks of September we were on holiday, and I took the opportunity to rack up close to 100 miles of running in the locales listed above.  This started in Ottawa where I spent mornings running along the Rideau River in search of new routes, hitting the Rideau Canal, Sussex Ave, and Parliament along the way. My longest Ottawa run was 24 km.

Next we were off to Grimsby where I discovered the Bruce Trail and ran along some sections of it. It is much more uneven and challenging terrain than I had imagined, forcing a very slow pace at times. However going up and down the escarpment forced some exceptional hill training into my program. I ended up running parallel to the escarpment a lot, with only strategic forays uphill where sidewalks were available.

Then it was beautiful Montreal and I got in two 10 milers on Lachine and on the mountain. This was some big city running with a lot of hard surface, though the mountain itself has a very forgiving gradient that is both a pleasure to run upwards and pacy to run down. All in all some super lovely running in great weather in Montreal.

I consider the Laurentians run I did (29.6 miles) to be my best run to date. It was a cold start at 7am from Morin Heights and I went up to Lac des Seize Iles before turning around at the 21km mark. I managed negative splits all the way up to the marathon distance and a bit beyond before getting turned around back in town, which added 5km to the distance, and ended up being very 'ultra'. It took me about a week to recover, but I think I'm still on track for WHM.

Last but far from least, I did two epic runs in Edinburgh: a 7 miler taking in Arthur's Seat (this was hill training at its best, reducing to a fast walk up the switchbacks near the top) and Calton Hill; and a run past Parliament to the Royal Mile and around the Castle to New Town, this one a tempo-ish / threshold-y romp in the sun.

Upcoming: Windsor Half Marathon 2019 (29 Sept 2019)

****

Summer 2019 running reading

Finn, Rise of the Ultra Runners

This book is the buzz of the summer. It seems that everyone is reading it. You just know, in an unspoken way, that others are soaking it up, considering it, reflecting, and then proceeding with their race plans with a new set of mental tools for dealing with, excelling, and enjoying their race just that much more, knowing how much Finn suffered (well, not 'knowing', but it's a misery loves company kind of thing I think).  It may very well have put more people off the idea of running an ultra than put them on the scent.

Cullen, Running for My Life

I wasn't sure at first, because the early chapters of this book are very focused on a young girl and then young woman's body and eating issues, and I felt I couldn't relate or contribute. But after getting only a little bit in I realised that what the book performs best is brutal honesty with oneself, regardless of what the specific struggle is. Hurdle after hurdle is met and overcome, often after years of brutal struggle and self-delusion. Running is always brought back front and centre as the key ingredient for providing continuity and confidence in overcoming the obstacles to fulfilment and happiness.

Hutchinson, Endure

The author's science background comes strongly through in this book that is about all kinds of acts of physical endurance, achievement, and betterment. The best part for me was the extended discussion of the idea of the Central Governor Theory first put forward by Noakes. A whole bunch of literature is reviewed that updates Noakes classic Lore of Running and for this alone I am very grateful.

MacDougall, Natural Born Heroes

Race to the Stones 2019

At the start line for Day 2 of Race to the Stones

The Race to the Stones course is much more uneven than I had imagined, in just about every possible way. My trail running in Swinley Forest and daily wobble-board exercises took me a long way, but not quite as far as I would have liked, in terms of how much actual running I achieved. By the time I'd reached marathon distance (42.4 km) I was pretty much in full walk mode. In total I probably walked about 10km out of the 50.

You had a mix of grassy trails eroded into multiple levels of path of various widths and heights, hard chalky/clayey mud roads that had dried into multiple ruts, and only one quite small section of actual road, just before the biggest hill on the course. In the forward direction, there was very little even ground, most of the time being spent on an uphill or a downhill (and sometimes the gradient and narrowness of the path could be a bit extreme).

My memories of this race will be: the early start and drive up from Wantage to an almost empty (5 other runners starting off at 5:28 am) venue; the incredible beauty of the landscapes surrounding the course; running for the first 3-4 hours pretty much completely on my own to listen to the birds, smell the earth and vegetation/flowers, and only occasionally hear the footfalls of someone overtaking me. 

The 4 checkpoints I passed in my morning of running (I finished in just under 5hours 30mins) came and went in incredibly rapid succession. I messaged my wife Diane as I approached each one, and barely stopped (I didn't stop at the first, and it was still so early there was no-one there anyway). My total intake from those stops was: 4 bananas, 1 gel, and 2 bottle refills (once orange drink and once water).

After the fourth pit-stop it became a different race for me, not only because I started encountering a lot walkers who had been going all night, but also because I was now also mostly walking myself. My left leg from hip to knee started announcing its pain/presence. I wouldn't go as far as to say injury, but had I really pushed myself it probably would have ended up that way.

I finished uninjured in part because I forced myself to listen to my body (like that Kenyan marathon runner Finn tried to get to run ultras in his Ultra-Runners book). I mentally went over what I'd learned from my running reading, mostly thinking about Finn's The Rise of the Ultra-Runners and Hutchinson's Endure. Finn talks about the 'pain cave', and I had a little pain cave talk with myself, saying "you can go there if and when it hits". Well, this was naive of me. In short, there's no pain cave, only pain, especially towards the end.

At the finish line

I did not find myself bounding down hills after 45km because I'd turned off (I hadn't) what the central governor in my brain was telling me (the theory expounded by both Hutchinson and Finn). In retrospect I'll train a bit differently, and do more long runs on hilly trails. There will be a next time, because I'm signing up for next year, both days. I decided that as I was nudging towards the start line this morning.  

Forest Five

This is my second 'official' run with my new club, the Bracknell Forest Runners (BFR). My first was a 5k handicap a few weeks ago, and that had been the first time I'd ever run a timed 5k.

Both went well. The previous 5k had been a PB by definition because it was a first.

The Forest Five, which I ran last night, was also a PB. This came only two days after my final run last weekend with my old running club at Endure24.



Here I am in my new club running shirt, having just completed the race and the run back home.  Here's how it went:

We all met at The Lookout, which is where I've also started three previous Sunday runs with the BFRs, usually doing the 8:30 or 9 min/mile options with some seasoned BFR trail runners.  Last night was a bit of a different feeling because members of several different clubs were present, this being a proper race.  I'd guess at least a couple of hundred people were there to race.

GPS ankle bracelets strapped on, and numbers pinned, we walked out into the forest, along those 'little' hills that characterised the end of the handicap race I mentioned above, hitting the start line at the crest of maybe the third one.

Just a small intimate gathering of runners chatting very socially, this was a really relaxing way to start a race. My previous experience with similar sized races had been my Surrey League XC competitions the previous year, in which (as I explained to another BFR Forest Five racer at the Start Line with me) the mood had been much more aggressive and pushy.

This is a really nice change for me and I anticipated a very chilled out race start, regardless of how things might go later. They set up the GPS tracking strips beneath the start line and within minutes I heard the countdown start. The more competitive runners moved forward and lined up.

We surged en masse along the forest road and after the first mile I started passing people.  This continued for me all the way to the finish line.  I was passed once, right at the very end.  Here's a Strava map of my race:



The tracks we ran along were quite varied, and as it had just rained about an hour previously, there was a nice sloppy feeling underfoot to make just that bit much more fun. I passed people along narrow single-track strips, smacking the broom and the pine with my arms and face just to get a little extra 'scrub' from the forest.  It's like I was communing with it.

It never felt forced, and this felt like my easiest PB ever.  I think having done a near (but much more challenging) PB at Endure must have helped.

We came down a long sandy section, and another long gravelly one, and then we hit the final downhill stride, and I started on a sub-6 mile pace down to the end.  It felt like flying.  I passed that one guy, and then he passed me, and then it was all over.

My medal flashed passed and I grabbed as I rapidly decelerated.  A goodie bag, a banana, and a fun chat about my upcoming Race to the Stones (with an outside racer who is doing the Tower in the same series) ensued.

I started my watch again after a little walk, and ran home to show my wife my new medal.

Endure 24 2019

[Note: Since signing up for Endure 2019 back in the autumn of 2018 we've moved to Bracknell permanently and I now run with Bracknell Forest Runners. In my next race, Race to the Stones, and in subsequent races, I'll be sporting the BFR running shirt/logo.]

***

I ate a lot, I ran a lot, I slept very little.

It was Endure 24 again, and I was composing stories in my head to keep myself awake at 2am. The faint coals of a neglected fire pulsed and glowed in the empty ring of camp chairs.  I pulled myself out of my tent where I had been nestled, fully clothed in hoodie, running gear, trousers and jacket under my sleeping bag and extra blanket.  A thin rain was just starting to spit.  My fifth run was coming up.

Unzipping the tent fly my legs trembled and I stumbled to get up to standing position. An unshakeable stiffness, my left calf and ankle making themselves known, my right hamstring announcing its presence, but none of it anything like an oncoming injury.  Just the evidence of the four runs that had come before.  I'd done each of them in under 40 minutes, with a round 1 time of 34:59.

But this second upcoming night run would be interesting.  I had a moonset and a pre-sunrise to accompany, and sounds of the very first birds waking followed me round the hills, the mud, the Rock & Roll cabin, past the Red Bull refreshment stand, up Heartbreak Hill, across the glow in the dark roots and fairy spirals, down the slippery hill and around.

At the end of each 5 mile lap is a handover spot where you give a small plastic wristband to your team-mate for them to continue accumulating laps for your team. It doesn't stop: there's always a member of your team running.  This year, with a 5-man (I now run with Bracknell Forest Runners, but signed up for the race back in 2018 when I still lived in Egham, see the note at the start of this post) team we managed 35 laps averaging 42 minutes each.

Walking into camp just after 4am I placed a long inflatable tiger outside the next-plus-one runner's tent door and quite audibly announced that I had returned and that his delivery was ready for his own handoff in about 35 minutes.

My second night run, and my fifth lap overall, took me 52 minutes, a big jump from my previous set of under 40s.  The hour nap I'd had had done something to my legs, making them stiff and leaden.

The sunrise came, not brightly, but with a hint of a beam now and then.  I caught rain showers through both of my final two runs, but it rained very little when I was at camp.  The sensation of running through the forest, with water streaming across your body, ensconced in a stream of fellow runners, with mud splatting the backs of your legs and gravel crunching around corners and through hills is pretty amazing.

Once you get your head of steam it's hard to stop.  I even started walking up the hills, getting a little more feedback from the runners in my immediate vicinity.  There is a serendipity, an element of chance to the aspect of with whom you'll find yourself running at any given moment.  A glance, a sign, a slight movement left or right gives acknowledgement of the other's presence, that you're giving way, or that you want to push through.

That's what characterised my first four rounds, was passing pretty much every single person on my horizon. It was an empowering feeling, smashing the speed barrier, whooshing down hills without holding back, only being passed a total of four times in four laps.

Then the final three, being passed in turn by at least as many as I passed, seeing that urgency amassed in all those competitive bodies hoping their own team will move up in the rankings.

We finished twelfth overall, out of 52 teams (see http://www.chipresults.co.uk/live24/index.aspx?cat=3M&eventId=30 ). This despite my own sense of dragging at the end. Maybe it was the two bacon/egg rolls; tub of yogurt; massive hamburger; tuna/pasta salad; half-liter of kefir; four Lucozades; and countless other small bits of food that contributed to the later sluggishness: I actually gained weight by the end of the weekend. In this respect I think it's quite different from running a marathon: you have loads of time to eat and recuperate.

But mentally, in some ways it's much harder than a marathon because you have time to stop and think, to get down, to question yourself and not want to do it.  This is what makes doing more than five laps a tiny bit 'ultra'. And it's why, in my opinion, walking can be much more part of the equation in a good performance than in a marathon (though of course walking in a marathon is perfectly fine too).  It's just that in an ultra you kind of have to factor in a bit of walking, even if it's just a small amount.

It's done for another year. How soon we forget the pain, the boredom, the indigestion.  How vividly the people, the camaraderie, the sun and moon did (and still do) shine.

Brighton Marathon 2019

I did only two very long training sessions to prepare for Brighton. One was a 16 mile walk (4 hours) and the other a 30 km run-walk that included 3min30sec runs with 30sec recoveries (x45). I did an early 1/2 marathon training run in February after which I was too injured to run for three weeks; and another one in early April after I'd recovered (and after those longer training runs mentioned above). Overall, I had only two weeks above 30 miles during the 3 months of training prior to April 14, 2019.

The struggle this time was to get to the start line, but when I did get there I was only slightly undertrained (it had been an intense season, Surrey League XC to be sure so I was still fit); was, crucially, uninjured; and I was very well rested and confident. This much I have learned about training and marathons to arrive in this state, at the Brighton start line in 2019.

At 9:20am I sidled up the Yellow holding pen to the front near the big screen and loudspeakers. I bobbed my head to Queen along with images of Wayne & Garth as the emcee very successfully got the increasing numbers of arriving runner very thoroughly pumped up on a cold Brighton morning.

In the Red pen (3:30-4hrs) next to us (here in the 4-4:30hrs pen), I saw one of the pacers I'd met the day before in the event village, and with whom I'd had a brief discussion about what to wear for the race (thin long sleeve shirt and shorts) but, to my chagrin, he was in a faster lane than the one I'd signed up for.  I watched as the 4hr pacers (there were four of them) bobbed away ahead out of sight, the Red pen having been let go about ten minutes before us.  Still, I figured I could catch them without subjecting my marathon to a disastrous "too fast" start.

I managed to catch them 5 miles or so later, once we'd wound around the city centre for a while and come out on the long grassy/beachy section on the coastal part just to the east of town. From here I stuck fast to the pacers until the final five miles.  And it felt like a race because of the constant jockeying for position, the pylons, the slowing runners emerging ahead of us who, when sighting the red 4hr pacer balloon might briefly rally but then slow, holding the steady-pacers back if they didn't push past.  

The field was crowded for its entirety, with a constant cluster of paced runners hanging out behind those red balloons. For a while that big red ball was bouncing off my head in the constant and shifting wind off the coast, a wind that funnelled up the city sections through which we threaded our paths on the western segments in the latter half of the race.

I kept my pace steady from 5 to 21 miles, constant as clockwork, not even thinking about the act, about what my feet were doing through that whole long middle section.  I was on auto-pilot, taking in the sights, and enjoying the ride my feet and legs were giving me, almost like they belonged to someone else, to a machine that was pushing me around of its own accord.

The final five miles were hard, but not as hard as you might think. I turned the final corner, and saw three of my fellow-paced running companions (as I'd come to think of these strangers, now oddly familiar, running beside me) up ahead of the red balloons, and I decided to follow them, to pick up the pace.  About a half dozen of us broke ranks and surged forward, each on our own individual initiative and accord, into the very cool and not insignificant buffeting headwind of the home stretch along Brighton beach. It was, as our pacer had said just moments before (he was otherwise not chatty) "the shortest way home".

We surged again significantly into that wind, way down below sub-9min/mile pace, onward to the finish line, the absolutely manic cheering spectators helping dispel fatigue on the final push. 

Here's what worked  so well overall for me to achieve a time with which I'm very happy (3:54:35, a PB):

1 I actually used a mantra along the home stretch: "fatigue is a state of mind", was what I said to myself over and over running towards the dual beacons of the Brighton i360 tower and the pier. It helped a lot.

2 I held my achieved mile/km count in mind as a positive, and never allowed myself to dwell on the time remaining. So, after 15km I thought of that number; after 20miles I held that in mind (not the amount remaining). After the start of the race, I always had less than a marathon to actually run -- this made a big psychological difference.

3 The temperature was a big factor, and what I wore in relation to it. I almost wore pocketless running tights, but switched on the morning. I know now that I would've been hotter and less well-organised had I gone with those. The gloves I wore I only took off after 15 miles, and probably should've put them back on again in the last five but didn't. I was comfortably cool the whole way around, never feeling any extreme of hot or cold. It was ideal.

4 Nutrition is a factor I handled really well. I started getting low blood sugar right away, in the first mile, and drank a whole bottle of Lucozade in the first five miles just to keep the tingling out of my fingers. I'd had a relatively small breakfast of four oatmeal packets with nuts in  the hotel room along with a pre-race granola bar. I staved off hypoglycaemia by eating almost constantly the whole way round: in total, 2 Lucozade; 9 jelly babies; 1 Stoats granola bar; 1 Trek granola bar; 1 Zero get provided by the race; and for hydration I also took advantage of water and/or energy drink stations at least 5 times. I came around the final cold bend on the beach energised in my core and in my legs.

"Fatigue is a state of mind" indeed. Thinking/saying this, visualising, eating, and staying positive, all these things, and the great companionship of my running club (Runnymede Runners), my wife Diane, and the cheering crowds of Brighton itself, got me around to the finish line.

Self-tracking and Science Fiction

"'The data becomes a "prosthetic of feeling," something to help us sense our bodies or the world around us. These senses can become uncannily reliable.' @ginasue ([Neff and Nafus,] 2016, page 75). I use a Garmin watch but rarely look at it during a run. My body takes over from the watch quickly now"

"As my senses become uncannily reliable I find, also, that I can start to depend upon the reliability of the uncanny as well...subtle hallucinations in the landscape & ghosts of past runs/ruins"

(@gwilymeades tweets, February 15th and 19th, 2019, respectively)

My twitter profile picture

I've been using my GPS watch, and its function of being able to map and track my running, as a way of generating science-fictional and uncanny outcomes.  Aside from the fact that I do occasionally experience very brief hallucinations when I'm on an especially long run, this might seem a bit of a stretch. It seemed that way to me too, for a time.

I've since come around, and am now a firm believer in the power of GPS to produce what Suvin might have called 'cognitive estrangement'.  I did a bit of a 'lit. review' in the area just to see what titles I could come up with related to the search term "science fiction and running". The top hit was Walker's End of the World Running Club, which has a (possibly apocryphal) tweet-review by Stephen King.

Actually, it is interesting that King is, himself, a dedicated walker/runner, but it's not entirely clear if that has affected King's fiction beyond possibly making it more consistent or somehow more clearly motivated.

In On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, King of course tells the true story of how he was struck and almost killed by a vehicle while he was out on one of his long walks; about his ideas around writing-as-telepathy (an idea that clearly, for King, has a firm grounding in belief aided by evidence from his own strong sense and ability in the power of writing to communicate); and his (pretty clearly not-apocryphal) observation that he does not remember writing Cujo on account of excessive alcohol- and cocaine-ingestion during the writing process.

Aside from being related clearly to my previous post "On Running Addiction," these observations on King's own senses of the uncanny in walking/running/writing, there's a parallel between the ways in which both SF and running 're-wire' the brains of its participants. Suvin, a Marxist, realized the revolutionary potential of this fact, in relation to science fiction (and not, of course, running).

But actually I think you can take any activity, performed obsessively, and find claims in relation to improvement of mental health. Take knitting, for example.  There are whole books dedicated to how the physical, repetitive, activity related to knitting, and the counting of rows and knots, 're-wires' the brain of the knitter to improve their sense of health and well-being.  (I am also a knitter, by the way).

But I think Suvin was really onto something and, philosophically at least, he gathered a good deal of academic and 'cognitive' evidence to back up his claims around the transformative power of SF. Technology has the power, after all, to structurally re-classify our senses of (well-)being. It can change whole orders of social spatiality with implications for class and senses of empowerment.

The era of self-tracking, evidenced by the rise of fitbits, watches (e.g. Garmin or Apple), and mobile apps that track our every movement, footstep, and trace, is taking us, in the digital age, well-beyond what earlier 'technologies' were able to do, and not necessarily in a good way.

I am part of a class of 'elite' that can not only afford a Garmin watch, but I also have so much extra time and energy, that I freely burn a great deal of 'extra-curricular' energy beyond what the necessaries of what my job entails.  I don't stack bricks for a living, I stack ideas, and beyond communicating those ideas to large lecture halls, my job mostly involves sitting at a desk.

Cognitively, then, I am part of a class that is privileged enough to be able to experience cognitive estrangement to the point of hallucination.  Reading science fiction often has the same effect.  It makes me see the world in such a radically different way that there is an order of magnitude of difference (at least) between the way I saw the world yesterday before reading, for example, Solaris, and the way I now see the world having experienced that deeply unsettling work.

Lem's work was the starting point, the fundamental turning or Archimedean punctum, around which much of Suvin's discussion of science fiction revolved. He went as far as to argue that the novum of Solaris represents a kind of zero-degree, or absolute-zero, starting point for the genre, the literary equivalent of 0 degrees Kelvin or absolute zero. In other words, the innovation of Solaris is so fundamental to, and so fundamentally changed, the genre that everything thereafter could not help but be in some way defined by it.

We are in a somewhat similar situation with both King (as writers) and with the 'Garmin' watch (here standing in for all self-tracking GPS-watches). Our activity is so fundamentally different after the introduction of the key innovation that there is no going back.

With surveillance capitalism this is a scary fact. I am positing here that one way of resisting 'capture' by corporations that benefit in both an Orwellian and a more liquid sense from the free-harvest of our individual and collective data-exhaust is through the use of counter-mapping and more subjective auto-carto-ethnographic (self-mapping-writing) techniques.

By this I mean mapping ourselves across the expected and inscribed boundaries of power through the transgression of that expectation and boundedness.  I want to promote unbounded senses of estrangement through the production of spatial hybridities and mobilities that are enabled by seemingly obsessive-addictive activities as running and science fiction (and why not, knitting!).

This is not (just) a justification for my continued use of Strava, cross-linked to other social media platforms like twitter, facebook, and instagram. If it's about self-promotion, then self-promote outside of your comfort zone, into the event-horizons of the unknown.

There were several weeks in a row where I was writing a science fiction story while a ran. I was structuring the story loosely upon Markson's book Wittgenstein's Mistress, imagining myself to be the last person on earth as I made my way north towards Datchet Bridge along the Thames.  The quality of light and burnt-autumn vegetation spiked into my imagination, and I invented new terms, new species of being in my head.  It is a meditation on solitude, mental health, and language.

It is also a meditation on moving through to new phases of experimentation, on being constantly on the move, both physically and cognivitely, and of finding new kinds of productive estrangement in that fact.

References:

Neff, Gina and Nafus, Dawn. 2016. Self-Tracking. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.

Suvin, Darko. 1979. Metamorphoses of Science Fiction: On the Poetics and History of a Literary Genre. New Haven: Yale University Press.