Nothing about this book would have incited me to buy it. The title, in particular, would have put me off: grammatical aberration, article - adjective - adjective. It’s well into the uncanny valley, something you’d get from a random self help book title generator (a bit like the british sweet generator, or british village generator). The cover is garish, lacking the sparse design of most non-fiction I buy, and even an amateur like me winces at the fonts.

But saw it recommended, and since I was looking to start running again after the months of inactivity of cancer treatment, I gave it a chance. Even before the break I’d been the kind of runner who runs for a while and then has to stop to give the knees a break, which didn’t feel sustainable. I was in the process of formulating a retirement plan, where I’d start swimming instead, or biking. Swimming is the best form of exercise, so it’s the rational thing to do. On the other hand going up and down a swimming pool 40 times has never been my idea of a good time.

The start of the book didn’t exactly sell me on it: it reads like a tourism brochure for the authors town in the Grand Tetons. Eric Orton, the author, waxes lyrical (well as lyrical as he gets, which is not very, the man may be a good coach but he’s not a poet) about the joys of living in this natural sports paradise.

But persevering through the fluff you get to the useful information. He recommends some strenght exercises - leg exercises and core exercises. He describes (with photographs) what he sees as a good running style. I’ve not had much help on that front - my athletics coach in high school was only moderately helpful, concentrated on the top performers, and after school I mostly winged it. Clearly what I was doing wasn’t working, so it made sense to try something else. Orton also describes a training program based on heart rates measured in specific conditions and depending on the desired target. Finally, he adds in chapters about diet and mindfulness.

All in all, dropping all the self-congratulatory story-telling and the motivational bits, this is an extremely useful book to me. It traces a path between Couch To 5K and longer distances. Since transitioning to the new running style (akin to barefoot running) my knees have left me alone.

Maybe Impossible

In August I foolishly registered myself to run the Bath Half in March. It seemed like a good idea at the time, a F U to the disease, a challenge to get me back to full fitness, and a way to re-assert control. I’ve not done a half marathon since my twenties.

I’ll be honest. I’m not sure at this point whether I’ll manage it. When registering I overlooked fatigue, a common side effect of the treatments, which can last for months. Some days I feel like my brain is full of fog and my bones are lined with lead. Where before 5K was a baseline I could reach in mere weeks, now I have trouble pushing past 4K, and I’ve been at it for two months. That’s 17K short, and I have 5 months to go.

It’s still nice being out, feeling the heart beating and the muscles get a workout, with the ever changing sky above me and the luscious green nature of Bath lining the path (see, I can do the tourist brochure bit too).

I don’t buy into Orton’s take that you can do whatever you want (the ‘Cool Impossible’, urgh) if you set your mind to it, which is both unoriginal and demonstrably untrue. But I’m grateful to have a guide to follow. After last few months, my confidence is not exactly high. Having a professional show me the way is really helpful, and for all my grumpiness, I’m happy to have it.