March | 2023 | blair parkes

Running was big in Christchurch in the 1970s.
The newly popular pastime of ‘Jogging’ had democratised running. It was an acceptable and trendy way of keeping fit for all ages. It was comfortably distant from the earnest and slightly weird world of spiked shoes and harriers. Radio stations, Newspapers and Television spread running’s popularity. There were large, organised fun runs attended by thousands. “Come Alive’, a popular physical activity-focused television campaign, featuring Kenny Rogers and the First Edition, filled the limited prime time TV advertising space. Running was popular and everywhere.

I was a kid, about ten years old in the mid ‘70s . I did most things because my older brother did them. He learnt the piano, so I learnt the piano. He went to Cubs, so I went to Cubs. When Scott went for runs, because he was training for the rugby season, I did too. I ran down through the domain and round the block after tea in my ‘sports shoes’, scoop-leg shorts and hang ten tank top. “Look – it’s John Walker ” yelled Bevan from school as I ran past.

I didn’t think I was John Walker, but I knew someone at school who did. One Monday morning Michael came to school proudly wearing the ‘John Walker beads’ he’d made after seeing them on TV One’s ‘Spot On’ programme the night before. Spot On’s groovy young hosts had shown family viewers how to tightly roll up strips of glossy magazines, varnish them and thread them onto elastic to make a tight ‘John Walker necklace’. The trick to the John Walker necklace’s authenticity and success, was to roll the glossy strips of magazine very tightly. If you didn’t achieve that tightness, the beads looked pretty stupid.

Colour Television reached New Zealand in time for the 1974 Commonwealth Games, expanding the concept of sport as entertainment. New Zealand had celebrity runners. John Walker, Dick Quax and Rod Dixon were always on TV and in the paper. At last a new generation was following on from the success of Peter Snell and Murray Halberg, to reclaim some international glory and pride for our small nation. New Zealand middle distance runners were champions. Anne Audain, Lorraine Moller and Allison Roe were conquering the World. Athletics was regular prime time viewing on New Zealand’s two tv channels. Memories of my 1970’s summer nights blur together watching endless athletics : The Friendship Games, The New Zealand Games, and TV2’s own heavily promoted summer athletic meetings.

Towards the end of the 1970’s I bought my first pair of running shoes on special from the ‘Athletic Attic’ in Cashfields . Athletic Attic was an American chain store that John Walker may have had something to do with. My shoes were a pair of ‘Athletic Attic Lydiard’s’. Arthur Lydiard was famous in New Zealand. I’d read all about him, his trademark Long Slow Distance training and his athlete’s subsequent success. My Lydiard shoes were seriously padded and a long way from the thinly soled tennis shoes Lydiard’s runners wore on their endless runs in the Waitakere Ranges.

Running was fun to watch, but less fun to do. I reluctantly trained for upcoming rugby seasons and school cross-country’s through my high school years. I never did enough to make much of a difference . I did just enough to stay in a pre-fitness state of regularly wanting to be sick if I pushed myself too far, which is exactly what the school cross-country and early season rugby practices did.

I gave up rugby and running when I was fifteen. Kids had gotten a lot bigger, the Springbok tour happened, and the rugby culture at my single sex school showed me I was no longer part of the team. I started working before and after school, buying musical gear and playing in bands.

I started running again in my mid twenties. I had left my physical job of car grooming luxury cars to do an arts degree at university. I was sitting around a lot, not exercising and getting plump. I started doing wee runs three or four times a week. We lived in town near Hagley Park, so it was the perfect location. There were beautiful trails around the river and park, and the excitement of encountering early morning car thieves and drunks walking home after a big night.

A few years after university we moved out to the beach. My bike ride to work became 10km each way, and the ride home was usually into a head wind. Biking felt like enough exercise on top of everything else. My running dropped to once or twice a week. My runs were never much fun and I didn’t go very far, mostly three or four km, but occasionally seven km. For the next six or seven years running felt like a necessary evil.

Running for me has mostly been a solitary activity. Fun runs and group activities hold no appeal. For a year or so, I went running with my friend Tom. We gradually built up our distance to our peak when we ran around the South Shore spit . It’s the longest run I’ve done, maybe twelve to fourteen km. It was an easy run, seeing new places, chatting all the way. Strangely, my stomach was upset for a week afterwards. It wasn’t unusual with my vegetarian diet, but noticeable. We never did it again.

I kept on running after our son was born, increasing the frequency of my runs, if not the distance. I was the home dad, and getting a run in early was a good setup for the parenting day ahead. Running with a pushchair was too hard. When he was five or six our son began to come along with me me on his bike most weekends, enjoying a chat and seeing new things.

Over the years I gained a little bit of weight in the way that guys who like food do. I broadened as I aged. Clothes got tighter and some of my favourite shirts had to stay in the wardrobe. Larger sized clothes were bought. I would see my weight go up one or two kg a year, sigh and accept it. It was fortunate that baggy clothes were popular through most of my thirties. I kept running four or five times a week – enough to feel reasonably fit and enjoy it. It felt good to be doing something healthy most days, even if it wasn’t keeping up with my 9pm sandwich habit. Running always helped me to feel better about life and it’s worries.

Our natural inclination in western society is to avoid things that are physically hard or difficult. For many of us, exercise feels unnatural and too much like unnecessary hard work. A lot of effort in human civilisation has been directed towards reducing the human effort required, and the physical energy expended, in getting the things we need to do, done.

I began to realise how my mental approach determined my enjoyment of running to quite a large degree. I’ve learnt a little about what to do, and what not to do. A lot of it is akin to mindfulness techniques – being in the moment, and choosing what to think about. I’ve learnt what works for ‘me and running’ – the things that help, and the things that don’t.

I’ve learnt to accept that while running is hard work, the work should never be my focus. I’ve learnt to never think about how tired I am – because if I do, I immediately feel more tired. I’ve learnt to never think about food – it’ll make me feel sick. I’ve learnt to disassociate from my body’s physical effort, and think of my body as a machine that I am driving. I am the boss, the brains. I am in control. I drive the machine . It is totally mind over matter.

I’ve learnt the value of habit. I don’t give myself a choice about running. It’s too easy for me to say no, so I just go. The hardest part of running is getting my shoes on. It can’t be overstated how good you feel after a run when you are fit. You feel physically great. Your body feels relaxed and your endorphins are pumping. Your anxiety and worries have usually shifted. You’re glad you’ve done it. You’ve avoided the disappointment of not doing it. Going running regularly can give you a welcome sense of achievement.

I don’t keep a record of my running times. Getting out the door for a run is ‘success’ for me, not how fast I go. I’m older. I don’t care . I run how I feel on the given morning. I think I run at pretty much the same speed every day. I’ve learnt about my need for the ‘vanity pass’ . I don’t like running behind someone, and usually feel the need to pass them. I prefer to change my route if I can, or put on a burst of speed and just do it making some noise as I go. I’ve developed a courtesy cough or a nose blow to give people ahead of me some warning that I am nearby, hopefully without frightening them.wearing five layers on top, on the snowy beach, 5.26 am, 09-10-22

I’ve learnt that dressing for the weather is paramount. I don’t like being cold or wet, so I wear enough clothes to make the first kilometre of my run easier while I warm up. I don’t mind sweating later, or carrying stuff. I’ve learnt that wearing five layers on top and three downstairs is sometimes not quite enough, but it’s enough to get me out the door. I’d rather not wear long trousers or track pants running, but for part of the year it makes getting out the door easier.

Running shoes need to be right. They don’t need to be expensive, but they need to fit your foot and be fit for purpose. One brand suits the shape of my foot better than others. Trail shoes are robust and great for me as I mostly run on tracks. Running clothes are better than old T shirts and shorts, but not essential. They are lighter, more breathable and wash and dry easily. A woolly hat is always a good idea. Gloves and pockets are handy. Running is not free, but it’s cheap.

Barefoot running is fantastic. It is a different way of running and it is easy to hurt yourself. You need to be careful and learn how to use your toes. Tai Chi running is great and holds many good lessons about how you might view your body. Gravity helps push you forward. All you have to do is lean forward, and you’re partially falling all the way home. You look a bit weird but who cares. It’s great when you are tired.

I like to run first thing in the morning. Most of the times that means I’m not running with sun block or the sun shining in my eyes. It lets me feel like I have started the day with an achievement. A barefoot run on the beach ending with a swim at sunrise is a beautiful start to the day.

I used to drink coffee before a run, but now I try not to drink anything. I don’t like the stitch. I never eat before a run. If I have to eat anything, a banana or yoghurt is the best option. I don’t warm up or stretch . In the past I’ve hurt myself stretching and warming up. I try and avoid injury at all costs. I try and eat bananas at least every few days, in case their potassium helps me avoid cramps. I start my run slowly and don’t speed up much. My intention is to avoid sudden movements or improvised jumps if I can manage it. The older I am, the longer my injuries take to heal.

Running is a great distraction. It offers a shift in focus from my worries, or a new way of looking at them. Running allows me time to myself, to think and let my mind wander and my brain refresh. I always listen to the radio when running – it helps my mind drift away from the physical effort of running. I prefer to hear interesting and positive stories. News and politics makes me run too fast. I seldom listen to music as the tempo of the music usually becomes the speed of my run – and you can never trust the DJ to get that right. You can’t have your radio too loud. You need to be able to hear cars, dogs, bikes and people . You have to remember you are running through the world, and sometimes that outside world cuts through into your running cocoon.

Not everyone says hi, or wants to, when you’re out running. Jog on. Swooping seagulls are no fun. It’s usually the young ones who are aggressive, and they can be more persistent than you might hope. September is our danger month. Dogs are always a hassle, even though they are probably ‘just being friendly’ when they rip your shorts or ruin your headphones. Drivers with their lights on high beam probably don’t realise they are blinding you. Shadows can be anything. Take care in dark places. Any car parked up at 5 am is to be avoided.

I kept running after my cancer diagnosis four years ago. Running was a lifesaver through the anxiety and challenges of the endless waiting, appointments and tests leading up to the day the specialist said, ‘you’ve got cancer, but we’re gonna fight it’ .

I practice a bit of ‘gratitude’ acknowledgement on my runs. At one particular corner not far from home I remind myself of the things that are better today than they were yesterday, or list a few things I feel good about. I’d recommend it. I remember how I felt on that corner on my first chemo. day, and the first radiotherapy day: ‘The first one’s the hardest’, I told myself, and ‘yay, no more waiting’.

I had seven blasts of chemotherapy and thirty rounds of radiation over seven weeks. I kept running through the first half my treatment . I took steroids on chemo. day and noticed how fast I ran for those first few weeks. I told my nurse, and she halved the dose. As my treatment progressed, I got tired, thin and sicker . One morning I tripped up on the dune top track and made a mess of myself, so I stopped running.

Running can help distract you from your sickness up to a point. It can also make you feel worse when you are really unwell. It’s a delicate balance. Unfortunately, as predicted, my health declined markedly post treatment . After about a month, I made a few attempts at running. It felt impossible and made me feel awful. I tried again a month later. It was probably too early, but I needed to do something to address my nausea and anxiety. It felt like ‘now or never’, so I pushed myself. I gradually went a little bit further when I felt I could. I ran very slowly and tried to keep my head still to try and avoid the frequent fogs of dizziness. I felt complete exhaustion for weeks and it seemed to take forever to gain any strength. I was painfully thin. It hurt to sit in the bath. I had no bum at all. I ate to gain weight . Chocolate, ice cream, bananas and pancakes got me there.

I rode my bike and walked as much as I could over the coming months to build up my stamina and fitness. I increased the frequency of my runs and slowly built-up the distance, settling on 5 – 6 km as a good regular distance . Over the years I had experimented with longer seven or eight km runs, but found small injuries, aches and pains became common. Shorter distances ran regularly was the better option for me, giving me more of the benefits of exercise, with fewer of the drawbacks.

By the time of our first lockdown I’d increased my distance to six km. six times a week. My nausea still woke me at 4 am every day. Running helps distract from that. I tried running in the day-time during lockdown to add a bit of interest to my day, but being near people freaked me out. Everyone was out walking and biking, and not everyone was good at maintaining personal space and distance. I was constantly changing my course to avoid oncoming people. It was not relaxing. I went back to running before six am, when it distracted from the nausea. I mostly ran the same six km route up and down Marine Parade seeing virtually no one. It felt safe, well-lit and familiar.

The first lockdown finished and I kept running every day. I had no reason to stop, and a lot of reasons to keep going. I got up to a year of running every day with no breaks … and after a while, it became two years.

After nearly a thousand trips on the Marine Parade route I was getting a bit bored. Six months ago I started to increase my distances and run to a few new places. We live in a fantastic place for running. There’s a long beach, tracks beside the river and estuary, tracks and trails along the dune tops and behind the dunes, a long jetty and a longer pier. There is a pedestrian mall and lots of interesting streets, footpaths and parks in between. I can return my library books or risk a money machine at 5am. as part of my run. I’ve increased my regular distance to about 9km and that is going ok. I don’t rush. I try and vary my route, depending on the tide, the wind, moonlight and my interests.

The meaning of ‘streaking’ has changed quite a bit in the 45 years I’ve been running. I’ve now just done a ‘three year streak’ – three years of running every day. I’ve run in wind, rain, frost, hail and snow . I know I can do it. I always give myself an easy ‘out’. A run is a run. It can be a short run if conditions require it, and a longer run if I feel like it. After a few kms, I usually feel like it.

Rain or shine, happy or sad, in sickness and in health, running has helped me and the way I feel. It’s the best thing to do if I’ve been up all night with a gig, a sick child, or old friends. I’ve staggered through bad backs, nausea, colds and dizziness. If I’m careful, a run will almost always make me feel better. It seldom makes things worse.

I don’t know how I would be feeling if I hadn’t been running on and off all these years. I can only guess that I would feel worse. I feel pretty sure I would be carrying more weight, worries, aches and pains. Life is full of regular and necessary tasks, and for me running is one of those tasks.
If I run, my life is better. I’ve learnt to run for my life.

New Brighton, 260323