Happy Birthday...

A year ago today I wrote the first post for this blog, with a challenge to myself to write an entry every day for six months. Six months came and went and I now find myself, 366 posts later, writing the 367th on the blog's first birthday.

Whether it's my birthday or Christmas day,  whether I'm on holiday, hungover or ill, I've managed to keep it going; I haven't missed a day. Writing a post every day has been fun sometimes, frustrating sometimes but interesting always. I guess when I started, I realised that this would be the case. There are days when this blog virtually writes itself and other days when I sit and stare at the screen for hours on end with not a thought in my head.

I'd be the first to admit that some posts are better written and more entertaining than others. I guess this is understandable when you sit down every night, often, with little idea of what you're going to write about. There are so many elements that need to come together and in the right mix. Often a good idea for a post is badly executed and sometimes a not so good idea is lifted by good writing. And, as an exercise about having to write something every day, I've gained quite a lot of insight about me and my approach to writing.

So what does the future hold for The Scarperer? Well, I won't be blogging every day; in its second year, I'd like to write because I want to rather than because I have to write. I want to understand how that changes what I write and how I approach things. I've also been thinking of introducing some audio blogs. Finally, every post will be accompanied by a link, 1 Year Ago, pointing to the post written (you guessed it) 1 year ago. And so, without further ado...

1 Year Ago:

Nothing but an orthotic wearing, high arched, under pronator...

Everything and nothing...

Last night's post about my new hair trimmer attracted a comment from a friend of mine, "What's that got to do with running, swimming or biking ...not to be pinikity...?" To which I replied, "Everything and nothing..."

I guess he was referring to the sentence below the blog's title, "A blog about running, swimming and cycling and the things I think about whilst I'm running, swimming and cycling..." And, of course, you may well be thinking the same thing.

I wasn't being facetious in my reply; yesterday's post had everything to do with last night's swim (whilst swimming I was thinking about whether the reviews I'd read about the trimmer were accurate and I'd bought a crock of shite) and yesterday's post had nothing to with last night's swim (it bore no material difference to the swim itself).

Indeed, the majority of my posts are not about running, swimming or cycling but every one of them has been thought about whilst performing one of those activities. The mind (or should I say, "My mind...") really does go to some strange place during exercise. I'm sure there are many who will testify to this. It's as if my mind escapes to a sphere of its own while my body gets on with its exercise.

When I first started this blog, I tried to obviously tie each post to an activity. I'd start posts with sentences like, "While out running tonight..." and then introduce the theme of the post. I'm more relaxed about it now but with that relaxation, I guess, it isn't necessarily obvious where that theme came from. Anyway, I hope that sort of explains it.

Switching subjects somewhat; you'll be pleased to hear that my Garmin sports watch seems to have finished its hissy fit and is behaving itself again, as evidenced by the inclusion again of the running record below.

Today's run at 17:19
Distance	6.13 km	Time	38:59
Pace	6:21 min/km	Cadence	80 spm
Comments: Raining.

Regrets, I've had a few...

...But then again, too few to mention. I've always admired that line from My Way for its honesty. Whilst most would aim to die with no regrets, I expect that most die with a few, if not many regrets. Indeed, he is a very lucky man, I think, who can face death with not one regret.

I saw my ex on the weekend for a coffee. He later sent me a link relating to regrets - something we talked about when we met (and the impetus for this post). He told me that an Australian palliative care nurse has written a book entitled the Top Five Regrets of the Dying which is, in turn, based on her blog, Inspiration and Chai.

I've heard, time and time again that regrets should be avoided. My parents seemed to repeat this line mantra-like to me at every opportunity. I quickly reached the point where I saw any expression of regret  as a failure. I soon realised that I could not maintain my sanity and this outlook alongside one another. I had to rethink.

Surely, everyone has regrets - don't they? In this life we grow from the mistakes we make and mistakes are the seeds of regret. I don't see how anyone could navigate this life and have not one regret.

I know there are things that I've done that, had I my time over, I'd do differently. Some regrets I can rectify and some are etched in time; their window for correction having long blown shut. Yes, there are some that I'll take to my deathbed but, thankfully, they are small and insignificant in the great scheme of things.

Perhaps, in sending me the link to the Guardian article he'd read, my ex was fishing to see if I named our time together as one of my regrets. I don't actually think he was and it's not one of my regrets; indeed, my regrets are not wholly different to the 5 named in the book and blog.

Whatever my regrets are; the good thing is, I have every chance of doing something about them so that they cease to be regrets or, at least, diminish substantially.

Today's run at 18:16
Distance	4.01 km	Time	23:17
Pace	5:48 min/km	Cadence	79 spm
Comments: Cold, clear and still.

Writer's block...

There's not a thought in my head; the cupboard is bare. The harder I try and think about what to write tonight the tighter and more constrained I feel.  I couldn't write a post for this blog tonight if my life depended on it. I can think of nothing that interests me, nor is likely to interest you. Do I have writer's block...?

According to Wikipedia's article on writer's block, it is a condition

In which an author loses the ability to produce new work. The condition varies widely in intensity. It can be trivial, a temporary difficulty in dealing with the task at hand. At the other extreme, some "blocked" writers have been unable to work for years on end, and some have even abandoned their careers.

Leo Tolstoy, Virginia Woolf, Katherine Mansfield, Joseph Conrad, Ernest Hemingway all suffered from writer's block. Andrew Motion revealed how it had struck in the middle of his laureateship, and how he was not prepared for the isolation of the job. Philip Lrkin suffered intermittently with it, saying, "I haven't given poetry up; poetry has given me up." Isaac Asimov, it is said, "had writer's block once. It was the worst ten minutes of his life."

American poet, William Stafford, is attributed with saying: "There is no such thing as writer's block for writers whose standards are low enough." He wasn't advocating writing any old rubbish but that writer's often take themselves too seriously and are too self critical. It's a form of self censorship; nothing is considered quite up to the mark and therefore, quite soon, the writer has stymied themselves into silence. Checkmate.

There is much advice on how to climb out of that dried up inkwell you've fallen into, such as to just start writing anything. Sure, much will be drivel but the physical act of writing will start the literary juices flowing. Another remedy is to do something physical like going to the gym or going for a run or a swim. Agatha Christie swore by her own cure of eating apples in the bath. None has been proven to work.

Of course not all writers suffer chronically with it, although, I suspect all writers experience the occasional bout from time to time. Except, that is, Will Self, if he's to be believed, "I have never experienced writer's block. Writing is a muscular action and, like any other, all you need to do is exercise the muscles. I don't even think of it as writing – it's typing."

There are a collection of apartments in Cardiff Bay in which the BBC houses some of its writers when they are working on BBC Wales productions. Russel T Davies (Queer As Folk, Dr Who and Torchwood) lived there for a few years. Each time I pass it on my run I smile when I remember that it became known at this time as Writer's Block.

Today's run at 17:49
Distance	4.02 km	Time	22:39
Pace	5:39 min/km	Cadence	80 spm
Comments: Very windy. Raining. Mild backache.

A whole 183 days' worth...

I started this blog back in late June of this year so that I could capture my thoughts as I ran, swam and cycled (but mainly ran) around Cardiff. It seemed such a shame to allow the things I thought about to evaporate into the ether. I wanted a record of these thoughts. In starting this blog, I also set myself the objective of blogging these thoughts each and every day for 6 months. That's 183 posts to this blog, one day after the next. Today saw me achieve this.

It's not an easy task writing a post for this blog every day because sometimes my thoughts don't always resolve into oven ready, just add water, easily digestible, tasty, bite sized morsels. Usually, I have to admit, it's not that difficult; there are a number of thoughts that pass through my mind that easily offer themselves up as candidates for blogging - I just need to season well, heat in the microwave for 5 minutes and then turn them out onto a plate known as Blogger.

Sometimes, however, it's not that easy. I have to start from scratch; much scrubbing, peeling, weighing and mixing is needed before I have anything nourishing to show for it. Sometimes, all I have is a scramble of half snatched, semi-formed incoherencies that take quite some cooking before publication. There have been times when I've sat here trying to remember what went through my mind on my run. My failing memory leaves me staring blankly at the screen without a clue as to what I should write about. Some of you may argue that I should never have bothered in the first instance.

And what have I learned from it? Well, it's quite therapeutic having to write your thoughts down every day and it's certainly interesting looking back, as anyone who's kept a diary will testify. Will I carry on writing this blog? Certainly but maybe not every day. Here are some of my favourite posts over the last 6 months:

Such a drag... I like this one because of the video of me letting loose my inner drag queen. Well, what else does a boy do after a few glasses of red on a Friday night?
Land of my fathers. And mothers... I like this post because it takes me back to the instant I saw the text from my mum with her photo. Such a nice memory.
Nature, red in tooth and claw... I can still see the distressed look on the poor girl's face each time the guy swam past her.
Marble domes and delicious torture (Istanbul 3)... Blogging on holiday may seem like a waste of precious time but it pays dividends when you read these posts several months later. This one covers the day I went to a Turkish bath and had a massage - oh the pain and the pleasure.
Singing like a canary... I laughed out loud the first time I saw the tweets quoted in this post. I've just laughed out loud again re-reading them.
The men's underpants special edition... Way too much personal information but I guess I wouldn't be a blogger if I wanted to keep my life a secret.
A veritable smorgasbord... Good memories from the hotel restaurant at breakfast - my favorite meal of the day.
Good company for the godless... A reminder of the great company I keep. We are not alone.

Today's run at 13:12
Distance	4.27 km	Time	24:35
Pace	5:45 min/km	Cadence	81 spm
Comments: Impressive, given the kilos of Christmas dinner I'm still carrying around.

Yes, but why...?

Tonight's run of 4.02 km in 21'54" at a pace of 5'27" was a wonderfully moist affair in the Cardiff drizzle. While I ran I thought about last night's post, in which I talked about why I blog. This was in answer to Navid's questions about The Scarperer. I said that it was my way of recording my thoughts, possibly for future reading. It all sounds very noble and very worthy, doesn't it?

There's a line of thinking that states all behaviour is driven by our need to be satisfied at some basic level; the desire for food, shelter, sex, self worth. Even seemingly altruistic behaviour can be explained using this thinking. For example, do people undertake charitable work in order to help people who are less fortunate or to increase their own self worth?

Richard Dawkins wrote a book called The Selfish Gene, where he stated that animal (and human) behaviour could be explained by its effect in enabling that organism to pass on its genes (or, at times, in enabling a relative of that organism to pass on its genes). It's a pretty good model for answering those questions about why certain animals sacrifice themselves for the good of their neighbours. The behaviours of ants and bees are good example of seemingly altruistic behaviours. It seems that self sacrifice can be advantagous in passing on (some of) your genes.

In The Selfish Gene Richard Dawkins coins the term meme as an idea, behaviour or style that spreads from person to person within a culture. He describes the replication of memes in the development of human culture. This brings us neatly full circle with memes being replicated throughout the blogging world. They are the double helix of the blogosphere; they enable blogs to live and develop as they spread throughout the interweb.

So why do I blog? I guess there are a number of benefits I get from blogging but at a basic level it satisfies that need in me for self worth. Selfish, I know but aren't we all...?

But why...?

I bumped into my friend Navid on the way home from work tonight. He said, "I read one of your Scarperer posts the other night". "Oh...?" I said. "What's that about then?" he asked. As we walked through town we talked about blogging. I told him that The Scarperer arose from my need to capture some of the things I think about when I run.

Whilst I ran tonight (4.04 km in 22'23" at a pace of  5'32"), I thought about this further. All Navid was trying to find out, I guess, was why I do it. They say that if you ask why often enough, you'll get to the truth (or if you're a child, you'll get a smack). So why do I blog? Well, as I've said before, when I run or swim I process my day and I wanted to capture the thoughts that blossom during my run or swim.

I used to write a blog a couple of years ago and re-reading some of the posts I wrote between 2002 and 2005 is quite fascinating. It's almost like reading about another person; I'm not him anymore, I've moved on (at least, I hope I have). Undoubtedly, had I not captured some of my thoughts from this period, they would be forgotten; lost like they'd never existed in the first place.

But what is a blog? Well, in Blogger's introduction it describes a blog as:

"A blog is a personal diary. A daily pulpit. A collaborative space. A political soapbox. A breaking-news outlet. A collection of links. Your own private thoughts. Memos to the world. Your blog is whatever you want it to be. There are millions of them, in all shapes and sizes, and there are no real rules."

So, there you have it, Nav. I'm not sure which of those terms best describes The Scarperer; perhaps you can tell me next time I bump into you...?

Variations on a theme...

As you know (if you're more than an occasional visitor to this blog), it is during my run every night that I process my day; where I file things away, discard those things that I know are of no use and cogitate on the expreiences I've had and the decisions I've made. I think I've said before that it is my segue into settling down for the night. It's my way of drawing a line under the day. I often think of things on my run that invariably find their way into this blog.

Tonight was an exception. My run seemed to whizz by before I'd had the chance to think of anything. I certainly did not whizz by; judging by my pityful average pace of 5'45"/km over 4.29 km in 24'42" I did anything but whizz by. And whatever had occupied my mind during the run had escaped into the ether by the time I finished. What could I blog about tonight? There wasn't an original thought in my head. I had writer's block.

In 1820 Niccolo Paganini published 24 Caprices for violin. The last, Caprice No 24, has captivated audiences and composers ever since. Franz Liszt based his Grandes Études de Paganini on it, Brahms' Paganini Variations, Rachmaninov's Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini and Lloyd Webber's Variations were also based on it. Other composers from Schumann to Rochberg have all written variations on it.

Clearly there is nothing wrong with developing someone else's original idea. In his book Impro, Keith Johnstone explores spontaneity, making the point that the more effort actors put into trying to be original the less spontaneous and truthful they become. "An artist who is inspired is being obvious. He's not making any decisions, he's not weighing one idea against another. He's accepting his first thoughts."

Mozart said of his ideas, "Why my productions take from my hand that particular form and style that makes them Mozartish, and different from the works of other composers, is probably owing to the same cause which renders my nose so large or so aquiline, or in short, makes it Mozart's, and different from those of other people. For I really do not study or aim at any originality."

And so it is with writing; very often the best writing flows like a stream of consciousness. The transfer from thought to written page seems effortless. Is writers' block no more than censorship? Do we not jettison certain thoughts bacause they are too obvious as we strive to be more original? Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch, author and literary critic, argued that there are only 7 basic plots, everything else is a variation upon them. If this is so then originality was sated a long time a go. Why bother to force feed it any more?

The blogoshere does not so much depend upon original ideas but upon the repetition, extension and development of ideas or memes. And as those memes spread via linkage from website to website so they develop and grow. Our blog culture is enriched not by a few original ideas but by their development and the variations that spring from them, in much the same way that our culture has been greatly enriched by all the variations based upon Paganini's Caprice No 24, especially Rachmaninov's quite brilliant Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini.

Let's get physical...

I'm currently reading Haruki Murakami's "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running". I bought the book some weeks ago but have only recently started reading it. I'm not so sure I like his style of prose (perhaps it's just a case of getting used to him) but I like his content. And before starting Murakami's book I'd been reading the 2nd volume of Michael Palin's diaries, "Halfway To Hollywood". A keen runner, Palin writes frequently in his diaries about running; about the thoughts he has whilst he runs and the effect running has on his thoughts.

In his book, Murakami writes, "Even if the skill level varies, there are things that only runners understand and share." I believe there's a truth in this; I think that the psychology of running is so central to what and who we are as humans. Anyone who runs regularly (even to the extent that I do) will understand this.

There are anthropological theories that argue we are born to run. We once had to run in order to survive; chasing down prey and scavenging. We don't need to do that today but those of us who do run do it because it turns on the same pleasure centres in the brain. It's part of our genetic make-up.

I guess both Murakami and Palin were influential in finally getting me back into blogging; I wanted to record the thoughts that I have when I exercise. Ever since I started running five years ago, I have realised that running (and, by extension, exercise) is so much more than just a physical thing. I wrote in one of my earlier posts about it being a bridge between work and home life - that is certainly one of the functions it fulfils. It's both a time of focus and of dissapation. It's a time where I can process the day.

I certainly didn't want this blog to become an exercise log where I simply recorded times and laps and diet along with injuries and personal bests. No, I wanted to capture the hundred and one thoughts that float through my head (including times and laps and diet along with injuries and personal bests) and how my thoughts affect my exercise and how the exercise affects my thoughts. I wanted to record the narrative behind the running, swimming and cycling.

Has it got legs? Is there any mileage in it? This blog is in its infancy and I'm still finding my voice. We'll see...