Making your Move

Earlier this month I ran in the Derby Runner League's two lap, 5 mile cross-country race at Foremark Reservoir. The thing about a two lap race is that you know exactly where to make your move. The first lap should have revealed as much of the course as you need to know: the turns, the chicanes, the hills, the mud baths and the finish funnel. So on the second lap you've no excuses. You cannot blame the finish for coming too quick, before you had a chance to kick for home. Nor can you accuse it of coming too late, after all your energy is spent.

On a two lap cross country race you know exactly who your opponent is. I'm not talking about the race favourite - not all of us can consider ourselves potential race winners; nor am I talking about your friendly club rival - all that goes out the window after the starter pistol goes off. Your true opponent is the runner in front when it comes to make your move. Or the runner who is breathing down your ear at that same moment.

This is a runner whom you have probably never met before, and to whom you will probably never introduce yourself. You might never see their face. But you'll recognise their breathing and their gait, and you'll know that, with only so many seconds before the finish funnel swallows you both, it's either them or you.

But wait just a minute. This is what you know. But what do you actually want? The rational mind - either before or after the race - knows that victory is preferable to defeat. But in the race itself, at the very moment when you must make your move, what is your heart's desire? Is it to win?

Perhaps if I asked what is your heart and lungs' desire, the question would not be so straightforward. At that particular point in the race they have their own agenda, and can be quite eloquent about it too. Sure, they can scream in pain, but they can also express complex ideas. Like little devils on your shoulder they can say "You've done enough today. Your final position doesn't matter as much as an even pace all round. Save yourself for the next race. Let the other guy kill himself if he wants. Don't give him the satisfaction of a sprint finish". Believe me, I have heard these voices. They are reason's last gasp.

When it comes to the moment of truth, your heart's desire can become a matter of sheer indifference. When it lies within reach, as a result of your own superhuman effort, the simple matter of plucking it seems the last thing you want to do. But 'twas ever thus. If it became easier to fulfill your desires the nearer to them you got, then mankind would have  succumbed to and died of sloth several thousand years ago. The truth is, the nearer we get to them the harder they are to reach. But the final challenge is no mere exercise in problem-solving - it is a moral test of human will. In the final few seconds of a race, if you are to go up against your opponent, your will must go up against your reason's siren-like ability to bring it down. When the funnel is in sight, my advice is to stop up your ears with beeswax and kick harder.