Moose? / secret infinity (day 10 running viral)

Today I unintentionally drew a moose (see below).

I mean, it's only the tenth day of my attempt to exhaust the space of Bracknell using a method of psycho-jography (I've just added this to my growing list of methods on whim). But it's just that it's whimsical, and it requires a faith in one's own creativity akin to turning off that negative voice that you get while writing.

It's that voice that says, "what I'm drawing/writing is no good, you might as well stop, just give up." I didn't, I just kept running. I wish I was as good at writing creatively as I am at running creatively though.

Anyway, I did not know I was drawing a moose until my run had loaded onto Strava. What I did set out to do was 1. enter phase 2 of my 'tentative d’epuisement d’un lieu bracknellien' (attempt to exhaust the space of Bracknell) and 2. draw a pair of circles. 

Actually if you look closely at the image, there's a secret infinity sign hidden in there too...

A cosy catastrophe (running viral day 9)

Day 9 took me to Ascot, on one of the nicest days of the year so far. Spring is launching into full flower and running is budding apace.  Again, I see so many runners out in these days of the Cosy Catastrophe.

Today I thought a bit about running and thinking. In order to make that easier, to let my mapping brain switch over to more fluid phenomenological, philosophical cogitation, I programmed my watch using Strava's heat map function to 'lock' my route onto the most used paths between here and Ascot.

With my route pre-determined, and my watch designed to run me through it step by step, I could think more easily.  I was observing too as I went, and noticed a lot of people, especially on Ascot's racecourse itself.

Now, as to thinking. When I'm running faster my mind tends to clear, and the only thought that might intrude will be a strong visual image of my finishing pace/emotion.  Slower, I can think thoughts more academic, blurry, and philosophical.

A lot of those thoughts revolve around hard problems I'm trying to solve at work, and right now that means "the role of the map and the cartographic appendix in speculative fictions, both diegetic, and paratextual."  And then I start thinking about how to break down the metadata of Dune,  the anthropology and remote sensing of Helliconia, and the like.

Actually, just as there is a link between Running and Philosophy, there is also a link between Science Fiction and Philosophy.  Both produce a kind of 'cognitive estrangement' that I've talked about before on this blog.

Now more than ever however this estrangement is literally true.  We are running, after all, in a time of CoronaVirus, a global pandemic the likes of which just a few weeks ago would have been in the realm to the strictly fictional. Think The Stand, The Wanderers, elements of The Handmaid's Tale, The Day of the Triffids, and other titles by John Wyndham.

It is a Cosy Catastrophe indeed. We are all comfortably jogging, drinking tea, gardening in our allotments, thinking we are exceptional to be weathering things so well.  Until we're not.

The Freedom of the Long Distance Runner (running viral day 8)

Last night the prime minister sent the UK into lockdown, but provided us with a pressure-release valve, of one physical activity outing per day. I had been planning one anyway, but chose something slightly shorter than my original 20 miler because my toes are bit sore from last week's 80+ miles (20 miles of which was completed in my tight Salomon trail shoes).

Despite its sometimes grim tone, the Sillitoe book The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (its first story) is much more playful that it would initially suggest.  Thus my recent reading of this, and a commentary upon it in a chapter in Running and Philosophy (Austin, ed.), is actually in keeping with the spirit of previous Perec-posts (attempts to exhaust a local space, etc).

What I'm getting at here is that today I went for a long-distance run (approx. 13 miles) in a time when many are taking up running for the first time, or are discovering the fact that running is intimately tied to questions of FREEDOM!

I know that the very literary Boris Johnson knows this too (he himself is a bit of a jogger): that deep down each and every Brit is a a bit Smith, the protagonist of The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner.

I'm not saying all Brits are runners; I'm saying that Brits are overall a bit more non-conformist and individualist than other herds of people roped into national boundaries.

One thing I am saying: after this whole Coronavirus thing is done, or at least settled down a bit, there might be more runners than ever before, regardless of country, because when I was out there today running through the countryside south of Wokingham, I saw loads of people who were either new to the sport, or getting back to after some time away.

They have this 'touched' look of slight religiosity about them.  They run for a bit, then stop, and run again, and the visage appears to glow slightly, a bit surprised. Some have ridiculous outfits, like they haven't had time to make it to Sports Direct before it shut its doors for good.

The chapter I read this morning in Running & Philosophy, just after finishing my run through Gorrick Wood/Wokingham, was called "The Freedom of the Long Distance Runner" riffing off the Sillitoe title.  The chapter invokes Nietzsche, Sartre, and Heidegger, and is is a short/sweet little number, loaded with choice quotes from Sillitoe.

This is my second go through the philosophy/running book (the first time was in Montreal), and I should really highly recommend it. Because once you're done running, in the end you realise it was just a couple of hours out of the day, and some of the remaining parts of the day that aren't taken up by work, sleep, TV, and eating might need filling in. You could do worse than read a book. You could do much worse than read either of these two.

"Oddly motivated" social distancing (running viral day 7)

An oulipian procedure involves picking two points, A and B, and attempting to walk a straight line between the two points.  It is always impossible, but the point is to come as close to a straight line as possible using whatever means at your disposal, including compass, GPS, and dead reckoning.

Today's map is a blank because it is a rest day (my first break from running in 13 days), and so I thought Lewis Carroll's "Ocean Chart" a map of a featureless portion of ocean, to be appropriate.

I am planning a run for tomorrow: day 8 will feature my own attempt to run a straight line. I have the line programmed into my Garmin, so it won't be hard, and I'm following the full oulipian programme, which means that once I've done my line, I have to rejoin the two ends again. Here's the route:

It's a nice one because it's long, and it has lots of elevation.  I will run it in road shoes despite the majority of it being in forest.  

Distributed participation (Running Viral Day 6)

This is the sixth day since Boris Johnson told everyone to self-isolate. It is only the second day after he shut down the pubs. Today, the forest was jam-packed with people.

Running with my beautiful red Leki poles, I completed a predict-a-time 10k run today following a predefined course I had mapped out on Garmin beforehand.  My predicted time was 1 hours and 6 minutes but I finished 10.35 km in 1 hour and 9 minutes instead.  It was pretty close I guess.

The drawing I produced is shown above, and I called it "The trees are eating people" for no particular reason other than it didn't really end up looking much like what I had intended: a bird and an oak leaf.  But that's the beauty of being able to name a route you've made: you can call it whatever you want.

This week, including the first six of the CoronaVirus lockdown, I covered over 82 miles at pretty much bang on 10 min/mile pace.  I'm happy with this, and a runner friend has assured me that high mileage at a managed pace can help ensure continued fitness and PB smashing once the races resume.

Today's even was interesting from an academic perspective, insofar as the whole predict-a-time thing can be seen as an example of 'distributed participation' with a-synchronous tallying of results over a defined distance, without defining either the route or starting times.  I would say it's an interesting experiment in mass participation and rule-following / transgression. By the latter, I mean all those people who decided to run together anyway.

I'm feeling more morally ambiguous about this today than I was before (see day 5 for my 'rant'). I mean, what's going on in the grocery stores (while still very civil) is probably more of a threat than a few people gathering out in the forest.

Here's a compilation of tracks for week 1:

UPHILL FLOW (Day 5 Running Viral)

Running Viral Day 5 (Uphill Flow)

I did two runs today on a beautiful spring day, just a day past equinox as it turns out. "Equinoxious" refers to my reaction in the forest at seeing MANY groups of people, not all of them families, walking together in close proximity.

I would be dishonest if I didn't say the thought hadn't crossed my own mind: what if a group of runners just showed up tomorrow and ran, and just happened to run the same route at the same time?  Problem is: 1. we'd get caught because many of us use Strava and 2. it's morally wrong at this point to do anything in a group on non-genetically-related (non-family) groupings.

So yes, I had judgemental thoughts as I ran past a group of seven middle-aged women conducting their fitbit weekend walk/social.  I do understand how important it is to continue to be vigilant about mental health, and for many that means doing walks or runs together in the great outdoors. What I don't understand is how people can justify it to themselves.

Maybe its just because we're one day in.  However, what I saw in the forest (the mayhem, in my mind) only bolsters my belief in natural spaces as haven for now nefarious activities, precisely because they are free from surveillance, from cameras, and from social media especially if you don't post.  

I mean I guess if you went for a naked run together you'd have a lot less chance of getting caught. But, 1. naked running is CRAZY and 2. see point above about it being morally repugnant to do large group (5 or more) activities in a time of CoronaVirus

*

Now that I've gotten the moralising out of my system, today was a brilliant SOLO run day, and I completed two runs.  The first was a hill session. I did 5 reps of Surrey Hill in Swinley Forest, with my Leki carbon-fibre poles.  Like yesterday, the 10min/mile pace gave a beautiful flow and runner's high.

I had been reading Emilie Forsberg's book before I went out, and she talked about doing hill reps and a thing she calls 'Uphill Flow'. I definitely got this: a sense of flow and ease when going uphill.  

My second run was a Perec-style attempt to exhaust a space in Bracknell, and today I focused on Easthampstead Church, also doing some scribbles across an open space, and a few round/spiral bits, finishing with a champagne bottle around Mill Park.  

This week sees me having run over 70 miles so far and tomorrow is the big Predict-a-time 10k BFRs run, which I'm really looking forward to. I just have to figure out what kind of creative loop I'll do.  

A forest for the eyes (Day 4 running viral)

Running Viral Day 4

It was quiet out in the forest today, especially once you get far from Bracknell, but not too close to Bagshot. There's this sweet spot just far enough in that you don't see anyone else.  It's bliss. The weather was cool today, and it was actually sunny, such that in the sunshine you felt warm. 

The forest is, obviously, a place apart, a not-quite-wild space that is much more wild than a city park. There are areas that feel like pristine wilderness, and other areas that feel like industrial factories for wood-extraction.  

We can wander among all of it at will in Bracknell Forest, and my wandering takes the form of a low intensity run lately, training now for Race to the Stones 4-5 July 2020.  But what am I observing today about humanity that I hadn't seen before?

There are a lot of dogs, and a lot of families, and I think one thing the forest offers is a place away from other eyes, from television, from watching, from being watched.  I could think of a dystopian scenario in which the forest had eyes so that we could be under 24/7 surveillance but as far as I know there's no CCTV in Bracknell Forest. 

What about a dystopian fantasy where the forest comes alive and trees start eating people? Sentient plants has been done before. You could do much worse in these times than read Wyndham's Day of the Triffids or The Midwich Cuckoos.  

Overall I see people acting very rationally, in the sense that they are doing what they need to do to take care of themselves.  Gazes are occasionally, in glimpses, aggressive, a kind of 'keep back' glare that erupts now and then.  I've seen spats on the motorways, but then I've so those before too.

The driver of a car stopped me mid-run yesterday close to the Mill Pond McDonald's and asked me where all the shops were. I pointed vaguely and said you could only get there by walking (Wildridings Shops), which technically isn't true: it's just what I do.

Our gazes give a lot away, but we can also refine them by taking time to let things sink in. The hearing too gives way in a new found silence to contemplation. I see jumbo jets lazily turning in the sky because they have so much room to move now, and there's barely any sound of traffic, just the occasional Ambulance siren.