I’ve spent much of July and August tending to a non-naming marathon. A creative marathon of a different kind. I’ll write about that instead then and, in the spirit of most blogs, will draw some unproven and subjective parallels between the two things.
Let me introduce a technical term at this point. Apparently I am now ‘tapering’. Any takers? No, nothing to do with worms. I am in fact in the process of pulling back on training distance and introducing some stamina and speed stuff ahead of my first half marathon, which takes place next weekend. (That’s what I’m meant to be doing anyhow). The linguist in me intends to rhubarb on about ‘tapering’ endlessly between now and race day. In fact, if many of you could call me this week just so I can fob you off with “Can’t talk now, I’m on the TaperTrail™” that would be, well, entirely self-serving of me.
So, here’s the link to matters creative (thankfully). I’ve had some pretty reasonable creative thoughts whilst running. I’ve named a hotel, tinkered with some straplines and figured out a portfolio strategy and naming architecture whilst half way round a 10k. There’s something about the freedom of being on the road – or sea wall in this case – that frees the mind up to, well, roam. Running in particular just seems to allow some re-evaluation and perspective on a problem. The thing about long-distance running is its endless scope to play around with a thought, drift off in to the blank zone, then return to the thought, at which point it is normally better.
Long distance running isn’t easy actually. I’m often wondering why the hell I’m bothering, given the damage to feet and knees (which happens quickly with any distance regularly beyond 10k) the thought that has to go in to diet and preparation and the unprecedented amount of time it all takes up (how do full marathon runners hold down a job and family life?). But I like the thought of achieving this thing, far more for the mental challenge than the physical. I get to run through the UK’s best national park and mingle with some ponies and cattle with comedy horns. I get to eat a lot. And I get to admire the New Forest Marathon’s digital strategy this year and the fact that it has itself a pleasing on-and offline visual identity system across the various distance races on offer. All good. Then there’s my running buddy…
Blog Reader, I chose wisely. She’s an A&E nurse for a start, so I’m in with a chance of surviving. Over the miles, I’ve presented for discussion a lengthy list of acute and chronic ailments of my own and my family’s and, remarkably, she still keeps turning up to training runs. She’s managed to laugh every time – yes, every time – when at the start of a race I’ve broken in to a chorus of The Carpenters’ “We’ve Only Just Begun” or The Beatles’ “The Long and Winding Road” (I hate both tracks, for the record). We’ve laughed a lot, which throws your stride (the sort of thing that’s really upsetting to proper runners) and recognised that what gets said out on the sea wall stays on the sea wall.
Here’s the thing. We are not in it to break any records. Our rear-half-of-the-field conversation about our projected “P.B” will, unbeknown to the extraordinary elite runners at the front, actually reference our post-race ritual of Peroni+Burger once we have left the race village. As we set off, one of us will offer a half-baked gag about the front of the field almost certainly ‘tapering out’ if they don’t measure their pace (fools). At various times one or other of us will fall silent. That’s fine. We’ll finish it and if we’re lucky on the day we’ll finish it slightly quicker than we have done the distance in training. It will require not insubstantial creativity of the mind to get the job done.
We do have a basic strategy for the day. Head up, proceed forwards and finish it with pride. A bit like every creative naming presentation I’ve been to, the culmination of free-roaming thoughts against a back drop of clear strategic objectives. Runners are superb people to have in a workshop actually, as they have an in-built mission to work a problem and see it through. What a brilliant approach to all matters creative. The best news is that creativity doesn’t stop at 13.1 miles. It’s an endless path that never tapers….
Nope, I won’t be stepping up to a full marathon. I like having knees for a start. Such tomfoolery would be the equivalent of a one word in English free .com that happens to be available globally in classes 9 and 42: quite ridiculous. Back to the naming marathon for me.
