Adapted from the Irish Mountain Running Association Yearbook 2012
When I got a lift from a fellow mountain runner to a race recently, we were both talking about the fact that as much as we both love mountain running and mountain races, curiously we were both surprised how long it took us to start doing mountain running. Perhaps mountain running for us is about re-connecting with something we didn’t realise we were disconnected with. Although we didn’t reach any conclusions that day, the following is an attempt to fill in the gaps.
As a child growing up, if there ever was a ‘cowboys and Indians’ game, I always wanted to be the Indian. (The modern version would be ‘supporting the underdog’). I was fascinated by Native Americans and indeed Indigenous peoples around the world. Particular so, stories like how Geronimo could shake off the chasing American Calvary by traversing through the mountains and canyons of Arizona and even into Mexico. After visiting Arizona when I was 18 and then undertaking my undergrad degree in Anthropology, I learnt so much more about non-industrial societies and ways of living. My childhood fascination with mountain running wasn’t re-ignited until I came across Christopher McDougall’s book ‘Born to Run‘. McDougall writes about Mexico’s Tarahumara, who are a related ethnic group to the Apache, and the place that running has in their way of life. Psychologists have recognised that Indigenous people have a much higher level of emotional and spiritual richness than mainstream industrial society. Perhaps this is an indication that my mountain running activities was re-connecting me with something, but I cant quite put my finger on what exactly.
As much as I admire historical figures like Geronimo, Teporame and others, they lived in a different time and society has moved on. I shop in supermarkets and I use things like Facebook just as much as the next person. However, mountain running seems almost like a modern day variant of a lifestyle (or part of a lifestyle) that they lived. Doing a mountain running League for the first time this year, I was involved in 9 out of the 13 races. I found that increasingly my whole week started to revolve around the Wednesday night race. That is, the rest of the week involved getting in a run each day, usually a recovery run. The Monday and Tuesday involved spending time arranging a carpool lift. Tuesday night/Wednesday morning involved a lot of cooking so I had enough food for the day as I usually went from home to work, to an IMRA race, to home and bed. Thursday and Friday usually involved post-race sore legs, and therefore impaired mobility. I found I was being increasingly influenced by this new lifestyle choice, including taking to eating garlic each day in an attempt to minimise midge bites post race.
One of the oblivious questions that come to mind is, if mountain running is so great, why is it not more popular? One of my Anthropology Professors spoke in one lecture that the Inuit are famous for having 11 different words for (types of) snow. However, as the Professor went on, what is much more instructive and interesting is the different words they have for different types of fears, such as fear of polar bear attack, fear of the ice breaking, and so on. Perhaps the minority status of mountain running has something to do with anxiety and fears. The following is my list of 11 different types of mountain running fears (I hope you don’t think I’m an anxious person):
1. Getting to the races
As a non-car owner this can be a challenge in itself. Fear #1 was overcome thanks in large part to the community spirit of other runners offering lifts on a regular basis.
2. Getting out of work on time to get carpool/lift.
There was a few close calls here getting to a few races. Fear #2 was dissipated when I started using some time-off-in-lieu at work on Wednesday afternoons.
3. Getting lost en route to race registration.
I am only just staring to learn the geography of the mountains. Most times en route, I have no idea if we have taken the right/wrong turn, but if we are still driving when it goes less than 30mins to race start time, fear #3 kicks in.
4. The long queue at registration impeding on warm-up time.
Fear #4 is usually a knock-on effect from fear #3, a double whammy.
5. Needing a toilet pitstop post-registration and pre-race….need I say more
6. Getting boxed-in at a narrow/impassable section.
The times that this happened turned out to be blessings in disguise, as it enabled me to have a stronger second half of the race. Experience has dampened fear #6.
7. Getting scratched/impaled by thorny/sharp things.
There was one race in particular I did which during the early part there seemed to be a lot of runners around me eager to overtake early on. As there was barely room for two-abreast, some runners seemed to be jumping into the furze/gorse in attempts to overtake….ouch!
8. Getting lost
In all the mountain running races I did, as a non-front runner fear #8 was minimised as there was always seems to be another runner close enough in sight I could follow. Although I do wonder if my navigation ability (or lack of) could impede any race winning position despite the course markings (I did go off-course in 50% of my 2011 races)!
9. Falling
My rule (from experience) to avoid fear #9 is to always take 2 small steps instead of 1 big one traversing rocky/bumpy sections. Although spending too long admiring the view can be a risk with so many hazards to trip on. The more scenic the race, the more fear #9 comes into effect.
10. The downhill
As a terrible downhiller, I hate them! After doing all the hard work on the uphill putting sizeable gaps into other runners, they just close in and breeze by on the downhill. If there isn’t another uphill or flat section, I won’t see them again until the finish. As mountain running has no Formula 1 type of neutral no-passing zones, can anyone please forward on a copy of ‘Downhilling for Dummies’?
11. Photographers on the course
You’re getting my good side, right?