My Passion With George Hall

IT came to a head almost exactly a year ago at 40,000 feet above Greenland on flight AC851 from Heathrow to Calgary.

I was reading Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run which I had picked up more for the discount than the thought of a good read. And then I came to the line, “For millions of years, humans ran without arch support, pronation control, or gel-filled pods under their heels”, and it got me interested.

Of course, I instinctively knew that was the case but somehow my 21st century lifestyle had helped me to overlook that simple fact.

Later in the book when I read about how runners were trained to heel strike I realised that I had never been “trained” and I didn’t lead with the heel.

Growing up in Africa where sport was compulsory at school and barefoot track running was the norm, you were never taught to run. You just ran.

We were taught techniques like the sprint start or baton change over but never how to run.

I have spent too many years in shoes to think I could go straight to barefoot running and so a few days later I wandered in to a sports store in one of those vast North American shopping malls and invested in a discounted pair of minimalist shoes.

A week later, having turned in a very bad time in the Dinosaur half marathon, and suffering from breathing difficulties brought on by a combination of a cold, the altitude (40,00 feet) and dryness (less than 25 per cent humidity) I tried out the minimalist shoes on a trail in the Rockies.

It was only a mile or so but, to use a well-worn phrase, it was electric. I was aware of everything under my feet and around me.

I actually felt I was a part of the ground I was running over and I was totally aware of my surroundings – how the trail rose and fell, what was directly under my feet and what was 20 yards ahead.

I also felt like I was a child again as that memory of early running came back to me.

When I finished running, and for a long time afterwards, my feet felt alive as if I had had a pedicure, foot massage and a workout all at once.

After a couple of months of running three miles a time on a mix of path and grass at the Pontefract Park Run I went out one evening for a full 10k, on road, and have never run in trainers since.

The best running for me is off-road and trail where the action of dodging and weaving around roots, stones, rabbit holes and other obstructions makes me feel like our ancient ancestors must have when they chased their dinner through the forests.

Mind you, the worst running is also off-road like that section of forestry track on the Hadrian’s Wall half marathon where jagged fist size stones had been used on the road!