Earlier this year I injured my ankle. After almost 4 years of daily running — at least a mile a day — the streak ended when a persistent ache in the ankle escalated in the middle of a Parkrun such that I could hardly walk let alone run. Investigation indicated a suspected stress fracture although nothing showed on the X-ray.
I kept walking each day. Even if it was just for 10 minutes the habit persisted. It has taken months to get to a point where I can run again….but the desire for the daily mile seems to have departed…
I sometimes think all the fitness advice ultimately just consists of things that your mother told you.
Stand up straight (good posture), get to bed early (importance of sleep), eat your greens (a varied natural diet), don’t snack between meals (some sort of time restricted feeding), stop worrying so much (mental health), wear sensible shoes (posture, foot health), brush your teeth (because mouth biome has all sorts of effects), get some sunshine (Vitamin D and circadian rhythms ) and enjoy fresh air (breath and move).
Always strive to add another rep, or a pound to the bar or another second to the length of the set!!!
I wrote this originally in 2013 but it still holds true.
You will have heard similar things. The gurus shout at us and encourage us to try harder to push more to seek improvement and growth at every opportunity. Nietzsche is invoked as we strive ever harder to get better, stronger, bigger. I’ve probably done the same thing myself — urged you to push for that extra rep that next rung on the ladder.
Well I am tired of…
There is a background to what I am going to be writing. I am planning a series of how my daily runs and walks change me. The focus was going to be on what I get from the run or walk, but as I reflected I understood that this perspective was wrong. The daily journey changes me. Sometimes the experience adds to me. Other days it chips something off .
The background is that there is a daily run and sometimes a walk too. Usually an early morning mile around the local streets. Often I visit the local hills. …
Using resistance training to get you “fitter” for hiking and backpacking. That was and remains the focus of my little book Hillfit.
I am always trying to simplify though and strip away the unnecessary, of which there is a lot in the world of resistance training where the positions are held with religious zeal. It is almost as bad as the diet cults. It has been interesting to watch the research — things are not really that complicated.
I’ve tried to summarise things in a few points:
How about re calibrating our attitude towards diet and exercise to one which is focused on the idea of enough?
So often in both diet and exercise we find ourselves at an extreme. More and more of this and less and less of that. What would happen if we shifted to a focus on sufficiency? Instead of trying to achieve less or more how about aiming for enough? Relax a little. Instead of pushing at the limits live in the middle for a while.
What do I mean?
Eat less and move more? No eat enough and move enough.
Increasingly I am finding that so much of the fitness & fitness blogosphere is a strange place which I am seeing more as a form of gnosticism. Let me explain:
Gnosticism I suppose is something of a theological term. From Wikipedia
Gnosticism comes from the Greek: gnosis which means knowledge. Some religions and sects mostly in the few hundred years before and after Christ are said to be gnostic or practice gnosticism.
This is because these religions believe that there is a special, hidden knowledge that only a few people may have.
Not to get into the theological aspects of…
You never liked my writing
The poems just left you cold.
The alchemy it failed me
I couldn’t give you gold.
I offer you this dirt instead
I’ve carried it too long
It’s deep inside my soul you see
And spoiling every song.
My heart is soiled and grubby
A burden all can view
I need a deeper cleansing
Fool’s gold can’t pull me through.
In the last two weeks I’ve been on holiday or travelling as I might prefer to call it. We passed through northern Spain — the mountains of Asturias, the hidden canyons of Burgos and the (fiercely independent) beautiful coast of the Basque country. There is much to write of what I saw and did. As I look back however, something lodges in my mind. Old men.
I seemed to see or notice a lot of old men. I was captivated by something in each. A look on a face of wisdom or weariness. A body that while frail and thin…
There is a strange macho language that is attached to mountains. They are conquered. We tick off the ascent in our log books, highlight the peak on our maps. We bag the mountain and add it to our haul like a collector would gather rare eggs or butterflies, pinning them to a board and framing them.
There is a desire to “own” the hills. In this love affair with the outdoors we always want to consummate the relationship, to get on top. …