SOMETIMES, YOU HAVE TO RUN BEFORE YOU CAN WALK
Zilch. Nada. Zip. That was my mileage for three consecutive weeks recently. I ran not a single step, so you may be surprised to hear that I toed the start line of my next race feeling quietly confident.
You see, despite the lack of running, I racked up more miles (230) and more steps (over 50,000 a day) in those three weeks than I’d manage in a month of run days.
What’s more, I was carrying 15kg on my back the whole time – the weight of the food, water, camping gear and other essentials needed to hike the arduous Cape Wrath Trail in the Scottish Highlands, from Fort William to the lighthouse that marks the most northwesterly point of the British mainland.
We – me, husband Jeff and our terrier, Morris – had never done a longdistance walk before and assumed we’d get by on our running fitness. It’s tough, remote terrain up there, with merciless climbs that have you pouring with sweat despite the cold, precipitous descents that turn your quads into a quivering mess and endless stretches of energy-sapping, boot-sucking peat bog. But as we inched our way north, we became more proficient: we could shoulder our packs easier; our knees stopped complaining; and we could go further without fatiguing. I thought, ‘This is going to be good for my running.’
At the end of each day’s walking, I’d throw down my rucksack, swap walking boots for Crocs, and feel so light and unencumbered that I wondered if I might just float away.
When we got back to civilisation I stepped on the scales and found I’d shed five pounds on the trail. But that first race? It didn’t yield the results I was hoping for. The lightness felt more like weakness. I felt flimsy without the weight of the rucksack to tether me to the ground, my running shoes felt thin and my ankles vulnerable without the support they’d grown accustomed to. Worse still, the running action itself felt alien and awkward. Had the neuromuscular pathways (the channels of communication between the brain and the muscles that create efficient movement) I’d acquired through hiking superseded my running patterns? Or was I just tired?
Anecdotally, a lot of runners claim performance improvements as a result of hiking. My friend Katie swears her running took a great leap forward after a walking holiday in Italy’s Lattari Mountains, while two-time Hawaii Ironman champion Tim Deboom believes hiking is the best way to head off an impending running injury – switching on muscles that get ignored in run training.
There are reasons why hiking would boost running performance: a study in the Journalofphysiology found that 13 miles a day for six days improved metabolic efficiency – increasing the percentage of energy derived from fat and sparing glycogen. It’s an obvious way to extend ‘time on feet’, which boosts stamina. Furthermore, with enough downhill action, it develops eccentric strength in the quads.
But despite the vague visual similarities between walking and running, the biomechanics are actually worlds apart. And that’s why that first race back after Cape Wrath reminded me how running feels in a triathlon when you’ve just ground out 40km on a bike – namely, like something your body doesn’t know how to do anymore.
I gradually got my running legs back, but it was with low expectations that, five weeks after reaching that remote lighthouse, I raced again. This time, though, everything fell into place. I felt light yet strong, steady yet nimble-footed, hardy but not heavy. I ran my best 5K of the year and a couple of months on, am still enjoying a purple patch. If anyone asks me what my secret is, I’ll tell them to go take a hike.
from autumn to spring. And that means one thing: the water is frigid.
‘Swimming in cold water makes you feel euphoric for the rest of the day,’ insists Reverend Graham Buckle, nicknamed the ‘fittest vicar in London’ and a Swimmer regular. ‘Once you’ve done the event a few times, you begin to notice the subtle differences in temperature between each pond or pool – they all have their own microclimates.’
Graham’s presence at the event is also said to ward off the bad weather; in five years, it has rained only once when he has been part of the group. ‘That’s purely coincidental!’ he says.
As you might expect from an event of its nature, The Swimmer attracts an eclectic and eccentric bunch, ranging from Ironman triathletes to Swimmer novices. Completing it requires a certain amount of physical and mental fortitude, for sure, but it’s defiantly not a race. ‘Leave the Garmin at home,’ says Will. ‘This is about enjoyment, not endurance; fun times and laughs, not split times and laps. We stop for cake and Tunnock’s Caramel Wafers rather than for sports gels.’
Because of this attitude, the atmosphere is as warm as the water is cold. Friendships have been formed and romances kindled. ‘Anyone who’s prepared to get up at 6am on a Saturday morning to run 13 miles mixed with four freezing swims is fairly bold, brave, sturdy and fun,’ says Will. ‘It’s a great way to make friends or meet a soulmate.’
Speaking of which, The Swimmer celebrated its first wedding in 2017 – Katie Kingwell and Marcus Maguire met during the event and tied the knot recently. When it came to choosing a suitable venue, they were never in doubt – it had to be the Brockwell Lido in South London, where The Swimmer finishes.
‘We had a “first swim” as a prelude to the first dance,’ says Marcus, ‘and our wedding cake was designed to replicate the old lido fountain, sadly no longer at Brockwell. Finally, we had a blessing in the shallow end conducted by Graham.’