My claim to London Marathon’s overtaking record!

LONDON: Keep calm and have a banana!

ONE of my favourite moments during the BBC’s annual coverage of the London Marathon is always that lingering shot of the very back of the field, as everybody waits for the start on Blackheath and in Greenwich Park.

Among those waiting patiently at the rear will always be the heftiest of the fancy-dress costumes, of course, but lurking among them will be a few unencumbered runners, who look suspiciously slim and fit and have no obvious need to be running from quite this far back.

I know what these scamps are up to, because back in 1988 I was one of them!

Every year you get a few, like me in ‘88, who arrive at the start area with a cunning plan. They want to start their race at the very rear of the field, stone-cold last, just to see exactly how many runners they can overtake during the 26.2 miles of the world’s greatest race.

It’s a good game, especially if you are running with no particular time target. It can yield statistics to be proud of - but I can promise you it’s the type of thing you only do once.

Overtaking is no easy process when you are confronted by people dressed as hippos, deep-sea divers and pancake-tossing waiters. Then there are walkers, stumblers and those zig-zagging with collection buckets. That thin blue line painted in the road to indicate the shortest route is not something you see very much of.

Back in 1988 Garmin devices weren’t around, so I can’t be sure, but I reckon I ran at least 27 miles, maybe more, with all the veering and body swerves that became necessary to make decent progress.

I believe I was successful in starting at the very back of the race, and even left a nominal 25-yard gap to allow for stragglers on the other start-line. That year there were 20,889 finishers and my twisting, dodging run of 3hrs.44mins gave me 8,808^th place. That means 12,081 successfully overtaken!

Could it have been some sort of record to overtake and beat more than 12,000 runners in a single race? I’ll probably never know, but it kept me amused and motivated on a day when I knew I wasn’t likely to achieve a PB.

I have to confess that all seven of my outings at the London Marathon were not  treated by me with the seriousness of most of my other 900-plus races. It was always a fun day out as far as I was concerned, and not the type of event to bust a gut in. This attitude was based on my realisation that shorter distances suited me far better when in serious ‘racing’ mode.

Nowadays, with the desperate fight to get places in these mass participation events, my cavalier attitude would probably be condemned as “a waste of an entry.”

But my mitigating circumstances are that my place in the race didn’t deny any earnest charity runner his or her number, because I’d been awarded a complimentary entry from the organisers. Back in those days if you were a sports journalist and a runner, and promised to give the London Marathon maximum publicity in your particular organ, you were welcomed with open arms and given a special free ‘media’ number.

Apart from being able to sidestep the laborious entry system that faced Mr and Mrs.Normal, this had other perks too. A week or two before race day you could join the other journos, plus race founders Chris Brasher and John Disley, in Wales or Scotland for a few days of fell running, and other highly sociable activities involving foaming ale and pubs with roaring fires. The admirable Brasher would hand out generous amounts of free kit supplied by Reebok. We were like kids at Christmas.

These excellent mountainside gatherings would also inevitably include a late-night pub quiz, with Olympic gold-medallist Brasher the quizmaster. I’ll never forget his stunned reaction when I was able to correctly identify the barefoot winner of the 1960 Olympic marathon (Abebe Bikila).

Impressing a man of Brasher’s standing felt like one hell of a result at the time. It even overshadowed my performance at the marathon itself a week later!

PS: I've just been told that Sonia O'Sullivan overtook 25,000 runners in the 2010 Great North Run in a special charity challenge. Bang goes my hopes of a record. Mind you, I don't think hers beats mine because: (a) It was only a half-marathon; (b) She was a full-time elite runner with coach, sponsor and personal masseuse;(c) Money was at stake. 

* * Rob Hadgraft’s five published books on running (plus others) are now also available as e-books for Kindle at just £4.99 each.   Use this link:   Rob Hadgraft's running books on Amazon  or, alternatively:   www.robhadgraft.com 

              

Is Memory Lane the best road to run down?

Al Storie – 60 kilometres on his 60^th birthday!

MANY of us mask the disappointment of getting slower as we get older by making jokes about it. We demonstrate the obscene creaking and clicking of our joints to each other, reminisce about our PBs and marvel at how standards were so much higher back in the day. Some of us even blog about life as a ‘clapped-out’ runner!

But if you look hard enough there are plenty of veteran runners around who don’t wallow in nostalgia. These are the types who laugh in the face of Mother Nature and just get out there and go for it.

In recent days I’ve come across some great examples of this, and I hereby induct three of these old ‘uns into my ‘Clapped Out Runner’s Hall of Fame’:

Firstly an old friend from Canada who turned 60 recently. Instead of keeping this unwelcome milestone quiet, he went out and told the world about it (see picture above). Allen Storie celebrated his 60^th birthday by running 60 kilometres.

He emerged from his house in Ontario in the wee small hours, and set off on a run that took him nearly nine hours. He’s not normally an ultra-runner but completed this birthday ‘treat’ with a smile on his face, a bevy of female helpers smoothing his path: “I ran a loop of just over 15 kilometres from my house, around the town of Bowmanville, back to the house where I fuelled up, ate a little food, and went off again – four continuous loops in all.”

His pals displayed special signs which urged passing motorists to 'Honk for Al', all of which helped keep him cheerful and motivated. "I felt fantastic at the end. I even got down and did some push-ups. I look at it as an incredible gift that I'm able to do this at 60, running at a pace that's comfortable for me.”

Al is director of an annual road race in Ontario, staged in memory of legendary British runner Alf Shrubb (1879-1964) who emigrated there. Shrubb loved going on long excursions by foot and if he was looking down on proceedings last week would have thoroughly approved of Al’s efforts.

Next into the Clapped-Out Runner’s pantheon is Pete Duhig, one of the best distance runners ever to emerge from rural Norfolk. Pete’s name is synonymous with the small and friendly Ryston Runners club, despite achievements in the 1980s and 1990s which put him in the elite category (2:25 for the marathon, 49 mins for ten miles; 30 mins for 10k).

But injuries and the ageing process mean Pete is nowhere near that standard any more, and he admits he’s finding it tough coming to terms with running at a lower level these days: “Having passed the 60-year age barrier . . . I know I can’t do what I did in the past but should still be able to run decently for my age. I find it increasingly difficult to want to do the speedwork necessary to take myself out of the crowd and into the front runners. But I keep trying.”

However Pete still gets fleeting enjoyment from his running and is definitely not planning to throw in the towel yet: “On most days the early part of a run is now very uncomfortable. In the end I do get into a rhythm and experience a short period of enjoyment and the feeling of well-being of one who is alive and relatively fit.  But this tends to be short-lived into the last third of the run  . . .  I then feel like a wrung-out dish rag and every step is an effort of will.”

My third example of a runner unbowed by age is a well-known figure who’s never had problems with motivation – Faujut Singh of Ilford. He recently completed a 10k in Hong Kong at the age of 101!  With his highly-recognisable saffron turban and flowing white beard, he took around 90 minutes. Not the fastest of 10k runs, but one of the most amazing.

The so-called Turbaned Torpedo said he would probably hang up his trainers after this race, but that remains to be seen. He  became the oldest man to run a full marathon at Toronto in 2011 (aged 100) but his accomplishments are not recognised by Guinness World Records because he doesn't have a birth certificate to prove his age (although his UK passport shows his birthdate as April 1911).

Faujut took up running aged 89 as a way of dealing with depression after his wife and son died in quick succession. The death in 1994 of son Kudlip was particularly hard to get over because he witnessed its grisly nature: In a severe storm Kudlip was decapitated by a piece of flying corrugated metal.

"From tragedy has come a lot of success and happiness," says Faujut, explaining how running had changed his life.

So, readers, these are the early inductees into my Clapped-Out Runner Hall of Fame, where they will stand alongside a face or two from my local running scene in Essex.

Already in there is my Tiptree clubmate Jim Slater (65 years young), who won his place for unexpectedly completing a marathon in 2012 - his first in donkey’s years -  which came out of the blue and without specific training as far as we can tell. He did the Mablethorpe 26.2 miles in a highly-respectable 4 hrs 18 mins. You’d never know he was in his seventh decade from the way he eats up the trails, roads and country, not to mention regularly falling off mountain and road bikes in a never-ending quest for adventure. Long may it continue.

* Rob Hadgraft’s five published books on running (plus 11 others on football) are now also available as e-books for Kindle at just £4.99 each.   Use this link:   Rob Hadgraft's running books on Amazon  or, alternatively:   www.robhadgraft.com  

     

The Advance of the Old Brigade

'If you've got it, flaunt it . . .'

DON’T despair ye olde ancient runners of the world. Forget about your declining leg-speed, your increasing recovery time, and your worsening posture. Don’t even worry about that deafness, stiffness and biliousness.

It’s still possible in our sport to shine brightly and achieve amazing things when we are long past our peak. Here I bring you ample proof of this.

Look at the picture above . . . meet 64-year-old Paula Moorhouse from New South Wales, Australia.  No ordinary pensioner. She’s older than Ena Sharples and Minnie Caldwell when they starred in ‘Corrie’, but that hasn’t stopped her working up one hell of a six-pack!

And when you’ve got it, you may as well flaunt it!  Over the Easter holiday period Paula defied her advancing years by helping creating a world record in the 2013 Australian Masters Athletics National Track & Field Championships in Canberra.

Along with Over-60 teammates Kathy Sims, Kathryn Heagney and Jeanette Flynn, a 4 x 800 metres relay time of 11 minutes 22.59 seconds was clocked, smashing the world record by a remarkable 24 seconds!  A delighted official said: “It was one of those special moments that a large and vocal crowd will remember for years to come.”

And it was no flash in the pan, for Paula was also third in the W60 400 metres (77.27), fifth in the 200 metres (33.34) and third in the 800 metres (2:59).

She has certainly helped make waves across Australia. My special correspondent from Manly Beach, NSW, tells me: “I can't believe someone who is in her sixties has a six-pack. I am always railing at those stupid magazines aimed at middle-aged women which have cover-lines on how to get a flat belly. I always screamed that it was impossible, but there she is making a liar of me!”

Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised. Australia has always bred great runners who go on for ever. The legend of Old Cliff Young proves that.

Every year Australia hosts a 543.7-mile (875 kilometres) endurance race from Sydney to Melbourne, undoubtedly one of the world's most grueling ultras. It takes a good five days to complete and normally only attracts world-class athletes aged well under 40 who train specifically for it helped financially by companies such as Nike.

But one year Cliff Young showed up at the start, a 61-year-old potato farmer wearing overalls and work boots. Onlookers thought he was there to watch, but grizzled Cliff strolled over, picked up a race number and joined the other racing snakes.

When the race got underway the experts soon left old Cliff behind. The crowds and TV audience watched in amusement as he shuffled along happily on his own. Some thought he was a mere novelty act who would soon abandon the event, although others wondered if he was seriously misguided and feared for his safety.

Most of the experienced racers planned to cover the distance by running 18 hours a day and sleeping the remaining six hours.  It seemed a sensible strategy, but Cliff didn’t have a coach and nobody told him about all that.

On the morning of Day Two, everyone was in for a huge surprise. Not only was Cliff still in the race, he’d continued shuffling along all night without a break. A reporter asked him about his tactics and he replied he would run straight through to the finish without sleep. No problem.

There was disbelief but Cliff kept to his word. It was the classic ‘tortoise and hare’ scenario. Each night he worked his way a little closer to the leading pack while they slept. By the final night, he’d passed the lot of them. He was not only first to reach the finish but set a new course record into the bargain.

The surprises continued. Cliff was handed winnings of 10,000 Aussie dollars but waved it away, claiming he hadn’t known there was a prize and had not entered to win money. To prove his point he gave the money to other runners, an act that gained him hero-status across Australia.

A year later the bachelor vegetarian got married and then ignored a displaced hip to finish the race in seventh.  Then, a while later, aged 76, he made a solo run around the edge of Australia to raise money for charity, but was forced to stop after 6,520 kilometres because his only helper (who was much younger) fell ill. Cliff’s famous shuffle eventually took him off this mortal coil in 2003 at the age of 81.

Ultra runners still remember him and credit their own success to copying the economic ‘Young Shuffle’ style. He proved what nobody thought possible – a human being can run for five days without stopping for sleep. More importantly, he underlined how running is a sport that certainly doesn’t end when you wave goodbye to younger days and your PBs start drying up.

* Rob Hadgraft’s five published books on running (plus 11 others on football) are now also available as e-books for Kindle at just £4.99 each.   Use this link:   Rob Hadgraft's running books on Amazon  or, alternatively:   www.robhadgraft.com

‘A cold wind smote our thinly-clad bodies like a whip...’

Only mad dogs and English runners go out in the midday snow . . .

WHEN the weather is this damned chilly, nobody likes too much hanging around at the start of a race. Hence the astonishing ‘false start’ that was witnessed at last weekend’s snowbound World Cross-Country champs in Poland!

You expect transgressions in track sprints, when every fraction of a second is vital, but to get a false start in a 12-kilometre cross-country was a real collector’s item.

BBC commentator Steve Cram had a good old chortle about it, and pondered whether it had ever happened before. His co-commentator Paula Radcliffe had the answer - yes it has. She recalled a race where the runners had covered at least 200 yards of grass before officials managed to call a halt.

Calling them back is the hard part. Poland must have some brave athletics officials.  You’d never attempt a recall at the English championships. The huge annual assembly at what we Anglos fondly call ‘The National’ traditionally fans out wide at the start, and the stampede always resembles a Zulu uprising. It would need more than a handful of hi-vis vests to send that lot back where they came from.

Seeing what happened on Sunday’s start-line at Bydgoszcz (I can spell it, but I can’t pronounce it) got me thinking about how cross-country always throws up funny stories and good anecdotes in a way that road or track-racing rarely does.  Here’s a few that spring to mind . . . .

              

                *A Tiptree Road Runners clubmate of mine turned up one Sunday keen and hungry at one of the longest and muddiest of Essex events. All was fine until he discovered he’d forgotten his running footwear. Unwilling to let the side down over such a ‘minor’ issue, our hero pinned on his number, proceeded to the start-line and ran the whole thing in ordinary leather day shoes!

                *Early in his running career, GB international Peter Elliott ended one cross-country race in the back seat of a police car. He’d been misdirected by a well-meaning marshal and was picked up by traffic cops who spotted him running determinedly along the hard shoulder of the M1!

                *In his younger days, the great Dave Bedford was so confident and talented (some would say arrogant!) he was able to win both junior and senior titles at the Southern XC Champs on the same day. But instead of widespread acclaim for this feat, all he got was an angry letter from a fellow runner’s mum, haranguing him for being a bloody show-off!

                *The very first organised cross-country championship – staged here in Essex of course – took place in Epping Forest in 1876, but ended in fiasco.  No tape or yellow arrows in those days, just a bloke scattering a paper trail. On this occasion he managed to run out of paper long before the end. Fearful of the consequences, he promptly scarpered from the scene with his empty bag. The entire pack of following runners were left stranded and freezing in the forest for hours with no idea where to go. Officials eventually located them and administered brandy (some was rubbed on muscles, some was poured down throats). 

 

                *After forgetting to bring his shorts, Harrow runner Chris Finill once had to race in exceptionally muddy conditions in totally unsuitable tracksuit bottoms. It led to a poor performance and Chris lost his temper at the finish-line when a youngster shouted “Go grandad” in his direction. He was just about to give the boy a clip round the ear when an elderly runner slipped ahead of him and gave the boy a hug. It was the boy’s grandfather.

                *Frank Tickner (Wells City) may have won the re-scheduled Southern champs on Parliament Hill Fields last month, but he didn’t get much acclaim. Spectators seemed far more interested in the small stray dog which joined the runners for a complete lap of this historic and incredibly muddy course, returning bedraggled but triumphant to loud cheers, only to be collared and whisked away by the Old Bill.  Onlookers wondered if the pacy pooch was a member of the Barking club - or maybe Thames Hare and Hounds?

                *When researching my book about old-time running hero Alf Shrubb, I came across many a cross-country calamity back in Edwardian days. Didn’t seem to do little Alf any harm though. In fact he got quite nostalgic and poetic when recalling those days: “A cold wind smote our thinly-clad bodies like a whip,” he said of one race. Not the sort of thing you hear from the mouth of your average club runner these days, I'd suggest? Alf remembered one 7-mile cross-country from South Croydon on a wintry weekend when thick fog descended mid-race, leading to some runners being lost out on the heath until 9pm, many hours after darkness fell!   

                * Hannah McQuarrie, a runner with the wonderfully-named Mornington Chasers club, is a relative newcomer to our sport. Her descriptions of the obscure charms of cross-country are among the best I’ve heard in ages. She reckons it’s a sport that gives us all the chance to give adulthood the middle finger and run through muddy fields with childish glee! She also suggests road-running is the Ken doll of the running world (smooth, flawlessly turned out, well organised, commercial), while cross-country is the drunken uncle (rough round the edges, scruffy, takes you by surprise, and prone to stumbles and falls).

* Rob Hadgraft’s five published books on running (plus 11 others on football) are now also available as e-books for Kindle at just £4.99 each.   Use this link:   Rob Hadgraft's running books on Amazon  or, alternatively:   www.robhadgraft.com

Not just the March hares who are completely mad!

Look out Doris - orange coming your way!

A FEW years ago, the month of March always marked the beginning of the road-racing season. Nowadays - in my neck of the woods anyway - it feels more like the start of the trail-running season.

Never mind chocolate eggs this Easter, trail-lovers will be feasting on a quartet of trail runs being staged between Good Friday and Easter Monday in mid-Essex. Chigborough, Little Baddow, Purleigh and A.N.Other are the sleepy villages selected for invasion by scores of runners over the holiday period. Most of us will choose to have a crack at one or maybe two events – but a fair number of gluttons will run all four!

Is it slightly odd to spend four consecutive days meandering the Essex countryside on foot with a sheet of instructions in your hand? Quite possibly, but compared to some Easter traditions of yesteryear, that’s not weird behaviour at all.

Indeed, if you thought runners were eccentric, consider the old Good Friday tradition of ‘Orange Rolling’ for example.

I was born and spent much of my childhood in the splendid and vastly-underrated county of Bedfordshire. During this time thousands of locals devoted every Good Friday to the strange and unique Orange Rolling ritual high up on Dunstable Downs. 

Over the years folks turned up in droves in every type of weather to fling oranges about, or simply watch others do it. In its early days everyone called it ‘Orange Pelting’ and participants could choose to be a pelter or be pelted. No Health and Safety worries back then.

This was the one day of the year in the Luton area when rowdy behaviour was positively encouraged. The Old Bill knew better than to try and interfere. But Lutonians are very gentlemanly types, and women and children were never deliberately targeted by the pelters (in theory). At first it had been called ‘Orange Pelting’ but when they changed it to ‘Orange Trundling’ and later to  ‘Orange Rolling’ it was clear someone was trying to calm things down a little.

As well as oranges flying up and down the steep hills, the day’s entertainment included brass bands, a Punch & Judy Show and stalls selling Bedfordshire Clangers (a sort of dumpling with savoury stuff at one end and sweet at the other). But it was the fruit flinging that always grabbed most of the attention.

The good folk of Luton and Dunstable would buy oranges by the bagful, which they promptly hurled gleefully at the characters lower down the hill. Some of the ‘victims’ deliberately made themselves targets by wearing inside-out coats and huge hats, so that they could grab the fruit, rush back up the hill and re-sell it to the happy pelters at the top. Some would deftly bag the oranges, hand them to a young assistant and later on hawk them round the neighbourhood.

As well as oranges, there was also a time when you could buy ‘Lady Teasers’ to use in the general mayhem.  According to Rita Swift (local historical society person), these were rubber items, filled with water, which were employed as a sort of water pistol. Presumably the blokes squirted it at any girls they fancied, to get their attention. Whether the ‘ladies’ liked being ‘teased’ in this way is not clear.

One year the local paper highlighted an incident in which a tiny girl was struck by an orange with such force she was knocked clean over and the orange sped away down the hill. A young boy, not much older himself, raced to retrieve it and presented it to the sobbing child.  The paper called him a hero and reported that he was rewarded for his actions with pocketfuls of oranges to take home for himself.

In the swinging sixties, a warm Easter would encourage the girls to come out in skimpy outfits. But before that, a mere glimpse of a petticoat would be a big deal up there on the Downs. One report stated: “Many of the crowd belonged to the fair sex, and, as the wearing of bloomers has by no means yet become general, the wind played havoc with their skirts . . . the wind played mad pranks with these ladies . . .  a wonderfully pretty display of multi-coloured petticoats was seen.”

As the years went by, inevitably things slowly got rowdier and on one occasion The Dunstable Excelsior Band had to beat a hasty retreat when they came under fire from the oranges. Eventually the annual fun was stopped altogether in 1968, partly because local businesses were losing interest in supporting the event.

I was still young back then and – like the other local kids – probably thought that hurling oranges down a hill to celebrate Easter was perfectly normal behaviour. Before long my visits to Dunstable Downs ended anyway as my family moved house to Essex.

We settled in the village of Tiptree, where it was clear the locals treated fruit with much more respect – making world-famous jam out of it instead of flinging it around a windy hillside! 

* Rob Hadgraft’s five published books on running (plus 11 others on football) are now also available as e-books for Kindle at just £4.99 each.   Use this link:   Rob Hadgraft's running books on Amazon  or, alternatively:   www.robhadgraft.com

Was Damon Albarn right? Is modern life rubbish?

Sorry you had to see this readers. It’s not merely my favourite mega-blister,
but rather “A random episode that repaired itself and made me stronger”!

THERE’S been much TV news footage recently showing the hospital in which the Queen had her dicky tummy attended to. It all looked very familiar, and for several days I was under the rather pleasing impression that old Liz was being treated at the very same place where they operated on my knee a few years ago.

But now, having consulted The Old Grey Training Log, I realise I didn’t go under the knife at the King Edward VII hospital after all – it was a couple of blocks away in the nearby Princess Grace.  Liz’s BUPA cover was probably higher grade than mine.

Never mind! The distinguished consultant who foraged expertly inside my leg back in 1997 was one of Harley Street’s finest (so I was told), even though he wasn’t a young sporty type, but very ‘old school’ like the surgeons in the ‘Harry and Paul’ comedy show.

I’ve run 10,000 miles since that op, but all the evidence points to that day 15 years ago being the start of the decline of my glittering running career. In terms of speed and mileage anyway. Before that operation my 10k times were routinely well under 40 minutes, and the 5-milers well under 30, but since then . . .  well, let’s not go there.

The procedure involved keyhole surgery to clean up damaged cartilage. I was running again – albeit gently – only 11 days later and trying to obey advice to train mainly on grass. Nine years later (2006), the knee required a similar procedure again. And again I was slightly disappointed to get a surgeon with seemingly no real knowledge of running or sport.

After this second op the wagging finger on the other side of the desk told me to stick to gentle running on grass, or alternatively take up swimming. Anyone who has seen my pathetic efforts in water will know which option I chose.

I’ve always treated those two bouts of knee trouble as negative events which heralded the impending arrival of Clapped-Out Runner status.  But this week I heard about a school of thought which regards injuries or physical setbacks as normal ‘random’ events. They have a positive effect by teaching your body how to recover and be stronger in the future.

That’s not to say injuries are GOOD – that would be barmy – but there is an interesting new perspective to consider here.

All this stuff is posted on the Facebook page of an organisation called Champions Everywhere.   This group provides ‘old school’ coaching for runners, which aims to  ensure natural and injury-free running via the methods of legendary coaches of the past, such as Arthur Lydiard. 

When we get ill, the theory goes, we usually heal back more resistant to that disease. And if we lift 300kg of weights today, our body builds back capacity to lift 315kg tomorrow ("just in case it needs to"). Humans and other animals are not as fragile as machines, which break down and are not able to recover on their own and become stronger.  

Unlike the machines and technology we invent, we humans thrive on randomness. Stress and discomfort (especially in running) makes us stronger, whereas it merely makes bridges, cars and other machines weaker.

Those Britpop superstars Blur named an album ‘Modern Life is Rubbish’, and it seems Damon Albarn had a point.  Everything nowadays is designed to remove randomness. Antibiotics for bacteria, pain-killers for pain, anti-inflammatories for inflammation, hi-tech cushioning for road shoes, non-weight bearing activity for running injuries. The list goes on and on.

Although our systems cope well with acute stress and then grow back stronger, we can become fragile and vulnerable if subjected to chronic stress (e.g. daily commutes, constant abuse of the body, heavy mileage in cushioned  shoes, etc). This is even more likely when we get too comfortable and too protected, thus making us likely to be soft, weak, sick and maladapted!

Chronic injuries result from all this, and when we runners visit the experts in white coats they charge us a fortune and then put us on bikes (weaker bones, poorer movement), or put  orthotics or more cushioning in our shoes (even weaker body, bones, poorer movements). It’s an endless degenerative cycle.

The Champions Everywhere people reckon the only way to break this cycle is to accept you are NOT fragile - that your running body loves randomness, chaos, discomfort and stress. Next you must learn to move naturally again, apply the correct natural stress that will make your body thrive and adapt, get stronger again and move better.

And, they add, we should turn a deaf ear to the doubters - those who want to label us ‘injury-prone’ or give fancy Latin terms to our injuries - who perpetuate more fear, more disuse and more weakness.

So has all this advice come along a bit too late to help your Clapped Out Runner?

Should I start thinking of my dodgy knee as the result of past random episodes which have actually made me stronger?  Should I stop using the knee as an excuse to restrict my weekly training to 15 miles (mostly steady and off-road)?

Should I chuck out my cushioned and supportive Puma and Asics shoes and stick to the lightweight Brooks ones (which I prefer anyway) which have so far only been used with great caution? And why not go the whole hog and get some of those minimalist shoes that claim to replicate barefoot running?

Anyway, next time I feel a twinge in the calf, or inflammation of the knee, I’ll carry out a little experiment. Instead of describing it as an injury, I’ll announce it as a random episode that will make heart, nerve and sinew stronger.

I’ll sound like a complete nutter, but, you never know, it might help . . . .

* Rob Hadgraft’s five published books on running (plus 11 others on football) are now also available as e-books for Kindle at just £4.99 each.   Use this link:   Rob Hadgraft's running books on Amazon  or, alternatively:   www.robhadgraft.com

Things beginning to get a bit hairy around here . . .

Andy Girling (384) used to race in Ipswich Chantry's Park with a beard that even scared little white dogs.....

THERE are several reasons you don’t see many bearded runners these days. Mostly, I suspect, due to issues such as sweat, aerodynamics and fashion.

But, thanks to a rash pledge I made a few weeks ago, I am now sampling life as a bearded runner for the first time in 30 years of pounding pavements, parks and pathways.

It all started on January 5 when a bearded Welshman called Alex Lawless volleyed a fine goal to knock Wolves out of the FA Cup. Hirsute Alex’s fabulous and unexpected winner sparked great celebrations among long-suffering Luton Town supporters like myself.

Some of us, unused to such dizzy excitement, marked the occasion with massive intakes of alcohol. Others did even stranger things. In my case, I inexplicably promised to grow an Alex Lawless beard in tribute to the goalscorer, which I wouldn’t shave off until the day Luton went out of the FA Cup.

As Luton currently languish in football’s fifth tier (it’s a long and bitter story), their survival in the FA Cup was expected by all to be short and sweet.  How could I have known we would pull off the greatest FA Cup giant-killing in 27 years last weekend and progress to the last 16 of the competition?  A couple of days of non-shaving has  now turned into many weeks of sprouting facial hair.

And this will have to continue into the second half of February at the very least. Some reckon Luton’s forthcoming fifth round tie with Millwall is eminently winnable, so it might go well into March and beyond!

This begs the question: Will the beard interfere with my running?

The answer to almost everything can be found on the internet, so it was there I headed. I stumbled upon Aaron of Coolrunning Australia who tells me: “I've noticed lately that growing a gnarly beard has improved my running tenfold. After a little plateau last year I needed to change things up a bit - I could have added mileage or done more intervals or whatever, but instead took note of the awesome phenomenon gripping the running world ... a sweet beard. Runners back in the 1970s were putting out faster marathon times and why was that? Genetics? Harder training? No people, it was beards!”

This was encouraging news, so I then consulted Runners World. One of their correspondents observed: “I'm faster now than before I grew my beard. Seriously, though, it is fast. It always seems to finish before I do.”

Another punter piped up: “A beard is like Samson's hair. And it helps that it sticks out that extra couple of inches. Almost like a carrot in front of a horse. It's taunting me to keep up. Apparently the older ladies like it too - so that's not such a bad thing.”  

On Facebook there’s a community page called The Running Beard Movement. Around 500 people have hit their ‘Like’ buttons to support this. The page claims it was inspired by Forrest Gump, and others like him, to create a place for all bearded runners to celebrate and promote the greatness of all forms of running beards!

Some runners seem to get quite evangelical about the power of the beard. According to the See Anis Run website, beards are a source of true power for runners. Beards look “bad ass” and, of course, shaving merely takes up valuable time that could be better used for training, sleeping or drinking beer.

Talking of beer, the website Draftmag reckons there are many traits shared by keen runners and beer geeks – i.e. happiness, creativity and beards. They point out that a beardie called Tim Olson recently crushed a long-standing 100-mile record in the USA by finishing in less than 15 hours. His long, flowing locks and Jesus-like beard didn’t hamper him at all.

Looking back over the years, there have been a number of notable beardie runners. Here’s my Top Ten . . . .

1. FAUJA SINGH

The turbanned-tornado from Ilford is a 101-year-old Sikh and the world's oldest marathon runner. He’s completed eight marathons with a PB of 5:40. He plans to quit after one final run at next month's Hong Kong Marathon, a few weeks before turning 102.  

2. FORREST GUMP

Not only did he start a successful shrimping company and become a college football star, Gump also ran across the nation solving people’s problems along the way. His epic beard was a guiding light for many Americans. 

3. LASSE VIREN

When the Flying Finn showed up bearded, rivals knew he was in great shape because it meant he’d not had time to shave. Won double Olympic gold in 1972 and successfully defended both in 1976. He later admitted to blood doping (not illegal in the 1970s).

4. FRED LEBOW

Born in Romania, he was so small he was almost hidden by his bold black beard. He ran 69 marathons and became famous for creating the New York Marathon which sparked the subsequent running boom.

5. PETE RICHARDSON

Essex marathon and 10-mile champion in 1979 (a sub-50 minute ten-miler), later joining my club Tiptree Road Runners where he is still record holder at five distances. All were achieved with voluminous beard around 20 years ago, before a car accident interrupted his career.

6 ANDY GIRLING

Tall man of Kent whose beard swept him to many a victory in Suffolk during his days based in Ipswich. Won the Florence Marathon, clocked 2:15 at London and was picked for GB in the 1980s.

7 MIKE GRATTON

Did England proud by becoming the only bearded winner of the London Marathon (2.09.43 in 1983), and now strokes that chin on many a foreign shore during his work as a sports travel agent.

8 GREG MEYER

His fulsome beard stormed to a 2:09 victory in the 1983 Boston Marathon. He’s now 57 and still runs daily, but has shaved his head and reduced the beard to a goatee.

9 DANNY MULLANE

Danny and his beard represented a number of Essex clubs, latterly Tiptree, as they chalked up highly respectable PBs. Competed across the globe and gave back to the sport in various admin capacities.

10 RICK SMALL

Bushy-bearded Ipswich JAFFA runner back in the 1980s who was stockier version of Fred Lebow, plus glasses. Lived Stowmarket way and was a sculptor, I seem to recall.

Have I missed any others worthy of a mention?

* Rob Hadgraft’s five published books on running (plus 11 others on football) are now also available as e-books for Kindle at just £4.99 each.   Use this link:   Rob Hadgraft's running books on Amazon  or, alternatively:   www.robhadgraft.com