Seven Sunrises
(But really just five)
I set myself a target recently of running to the top of the closest hill to my house every morning in time for sunrise. The purpose of this was threefold: to force myself to get up early and be a morning runner; to monitor the fatigue I’ve been feeling since covid; and to give myself an arbitrary target as motivation for running again.
The hill is just a shade under 1100 ft and a round trip from my door to the summit is 4.7 miles and under an hour of running, even going easy. You can do it in 50 minutes if you’re pushing it.
The gaelic name is Meall Bhanbhaidh which simply means Banavie hill. The word “meall” essentially means a rounded mass or protuberance, and in gaelic topography it means a rounded or lumpy hill. (Incidentally, this is a nice little resource I found for gaelic naming traditions).
None of this makes Banavie hill sound very appealing, but as is the way with these things, sometimes the charm of a place is exactly the fact that others find it charmless. It is an unremarkable little lump but I’m fond of it nonetheless. It suited my purposes perfectly for this mini challenge.
From the top you look north down the Caledonian Canal where it opens into Loch Lochy and the Great Glen. Facing west you look onto Aonach Mor, Carn Mor Dearg and Ben Nevis, with the Mamores beyond. To the south is Loch Linnhe, spilling over the horizon, and immediately east are the slopes of Druim Fada and Stob a’Ghrianain.
I should add that I never made seven sunrises, but rather just five. Seven has been retained in the title for alliterative qualities and because it’s something I’ll do again when I’m feeling better. I’ve been de-railed by illness once again. This time a throat infection that’s likely related to the Scarlet fever my son has. Suffice to say I’m very, very fed up with the past couple of months of illness and sub-par fitness.
I felt pretty low when my 0545 alarm went off on day six and I realised I wasn’t going to manage. I’d written it off as a failure and decided not to write about it. But when I thought about it I realised this was something I needed to re-frame.
A common problem I have with running is to think that nothing I’m doing is quite good enough and focusing on what I haven’t done instead of what I have. It’s a problem I have in other areas of my life, too.
I realised the failure was only in terms of my entirely arbitrary target. And although I’m not trying to celebrate mediocrity or excuse my shortcomings, maybe it is worth picking my (internal) battles. I realised that even if I hadn’t managed seven in a row, I had gained some worth from five, and the number didn’t really matter.
So here’s what I learned…
There are real benefits to running in the morning
I’ve never been a morning runner. I can do it, I just hate the thought of it. But getting up before sunrise every day and forcing myself to start moving wasn’t too bad. Within the first mile some days I was surprised by how easily I was moving. I didn’t bother stretching for the first three days, but did for the last two on account of hip pain. (I only stretch when something hurts, which seems a bit stupid now I’m writing it down).
I was more alert for the rest of the day after I’d ran, but this was a secondary benefit to feeling more relaxed because I could concentrate on work or family commitments without stressing all day about running. Often if I have a lot to do and uncertain time frames I can get a bit agitated because I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to fit in a run. But when I’d already got the running bit out of the way I could relax, knowing that I’d be doing the same thing tomorrow and not having to stress about where or when I was going.
Jasmin Paris wrote recently how her Barkley Marathon training was all done in the early mornings, typically around 0500. This allowed her to balance her training with working and being a mum. If she can train for something like the Barkley, building to 80 miles / 35,000 ft in a week, I think I can manage the occasional early morning run in pursuit of my modest goals.
There’s nothing wrong with running the same route
I get hung up with where and what to run. It’s not that there’s a lack of options, but rather there are too many. For some reason I feel if I’m not doing something different it’s somehow not worthwhile, but really that’s just nonsense. I’ve never been great with consistency or planning and that’s part of the issue, but really I need to realise that there are benefits to running familiar routes. It’s more important to be out instead of agonising over where to go. In fact, I’ve noticed that many good runners do the same things over and over again.
I do kind of hate the idea of running being too structured or repetitive, but maybe I need to look at the bigger picture of improvement and fitness benefits.
Again, consider Jasmin Paris running 22 reps of Castlelaw hill for an accumulated ascent of 18,500 ft at 5am in the middle of winter. It’s the getting out and doing it that’s most important, even if it’s less than ideal.
And that’s only 17 reps of Banavie hill!
My fatigue is real, but it’ll all be ok
For me running is mostly in my head, and this is simultaneously great and a massive hinderance. My brother, who’s recently started running, was telling me how painful he’s finding long runs. My advice was to try and not think about running.
When I first realised I could run longer distances without difficulty it was because my mind was entirely elsewhere. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing except perhaps to momentarily acknowledge a change of direction. This is when running feels best to me, when it becomes secondary to enjoying the changing landscape, having some time on my own and space to just think. I don’t know if this is a common experience or even desirable for some people, but it works for me.
But the flip-side of being so much in my head is that when I feel things aren’t right it can consume me. What I’m feeling mentally manifests physically. Lately my worries about post-covid fatigue have done this. I know I’m not feeling as strong as I have in the past, but maybe I’m over-analysing it and it could just be the extra 6-7 kilos I’m carrying vs this time last year (which I discovered with mild shock yesterday) and a general lack of fitness.
I sat down yesterday to write this and couldn’t concentrate, so I went for run instead. It was a familiar route - starting at my gate it’s a mile and a bit of road, up and over Meall an t-Suidhe (just over 4 miles from my door to the summit cairn at 2500ft), down to the halfway lochan on Ben Nevis and onto the tourist path, then along the river Nevis until I reach the road again. By the time I hit the river my legs were just about to give up. I even sat down on a bench for a minute, something I would never normally do. It was a decent run of 11.5 miles with a bit of climbing and some rough terrain, but I’ve certainly found it much easier in the past.
Regardless, I spent much of it not thinking about running. I was buoyed by it and wasn’t overthinking my health for the first time in quite a while. Part of the joy yesterday came from the uncanny shuffle selection of four songs in a row that could easily be chosen as symbolising distinct periods of my life:
I enjoyed thinking about all of that immensely, and it again reminded me that I find music really beneficial to running sometimes.
There’s beauty in the ordinary
You’d think I’d read enough poetry to never forget this, but sometimes I need a reminder.
Sometimes I need to just slow down and realise that the sun comes up every single morning, whether I see its blaze or not. Regardless of whatever shit is tumbling around in my brain, on spring mornings when the air is cold and clear there will be skylarks saluting the orange glow rising in the east.
And sometimes all I need is to go outside and witness that.
