ATHLETICS:A documentary on the Toyko Olympics of 1964 highlight the true spirit of the Games, writes Ian O'Riordan

Look out your window any evening and it shouldn't be long before a runner comes past. We're in the thick of a running boom, and if you want to avoid the brunt of it then stay clear of the Phoenix Park tomorrow, where the latest surge in this phenomenon takes the form of the Great Ireland Run.

I'm looking out my window and to my left the sun is glistening on Ballynakill Harbour, illuminating nearby Inishbofin. To my right are the end reaches of the Twelve Bens. Tomorrow, bus loads of us will be spread out over Leenaun, Maam Cross and the area known as Joyce's Country, running in the Connemara marathon - at half, full or ultra distance. No prizes for guessing which one I've opted for.

None of my travelling party intend on going further than the half marathon: 13.1 miles across this terrain at this time of year is enough of an endurance test.

Last night I provided final inspiration by putting on Kon Ichikawa's 1964 documentary Tokyo Olympiad, which contains some of the greatest sporting footage ever shot. Tokyo was awarded the 1940 Games, but we all know what happened then. So when Tokyo's turn came again in 1964 it was deemed a decisive moment in the post-war reconstruction and rehabilitation of Japan.

In ways, Tokyo's awarding of the Olympics has parallels with Beijing. I'm not going to bore you with the politics. There are enough people who believe you can equal human rights with a ceremonious boycott, or free Tibet with your remote control, and good luck to them. Except it's not going to happen, the same way the Dalai Lama won't be lighting the Olympic flame in August. There are lots of genuine reasons to suggest boycott, but I wonder if the fear of China's new economy and culture is not one of them.

Yet perhaps in the same way the 1964 Olympics marked a turning point for Japan, the 2008 Olympics will mark the same for China. Who knows? But who can say it hasn't already made a difference? "People do awful things to each other," wrote Tom Stoppard in Night and Day. "But it's worse in places where everybody is kept in the dark."

I'd been meaning to rewatch Ichikawa's Tokyo Olympiad since his death on February 13th, aged 92. The Tokyo organisers were intent on documenting their Games, no doubt motivated by the standard, politically and aesthetically, set by Leni Riefenstahl with her celebration of the 1936 Berlin Olympics. They offered the job to Akira Kurosawa, whose plans were rejected as too expensive, so they turned to the other great name of Japan cinema. Ichikawa avoided the political rituality of Riefenstahl, and instead indulged in the idiosyncrasy of the sporting events. For Ichikawa, the Olympics were "a symbol of human aspiration", and he interpreted that "aspiration" as going far beyond achievement in the sporting arena, which maybe those calling for a boycott of Beijing need reminding of. His film is more a study in human behaviour and temperament.

Nowhere is that more evident than in his footage of the men's marathon. On October 24th, a field of 68 runners from 35 countries set out from the Olympic stadium on the out-and-back course to Tobitakyu-machi, and at the turning point, Abebe Bikila of Ethiopia had dropped the field except for Ireland's Jim Hogan.

Bikila had won the Olympic marathon four years previously, running barefoot in Rome. In Tokyo he wore brand new Puma's and long white socks, and proved an even more convincing winner, with a then world record of 2:12.11. Ichikawa's camera focuses more on the chasing runners. It shows Hogan coming to a halt at 23 miles, trying in vain to run on, before sitting down on the kerbside and gesturing with his hand for a drink. If he'd somehow summoned the energy to go on Hogan would surely have won a medal. Yet just two years later Hogan made amends when winning the 1966 European championship marathon in Budapest. Only this time he was wearing a British vest.

Hogan's book The Irishman Who Ran for Englandhas just been published by Currach Press (€14.99). It's incredibly honest, even if the only thing we really know for sure about Jim Hogan is that his name isn't really Jim Hogan. In the preface, Britain's colourful distance runner David Bedford writes: "The one thing I always said about Jim is that if the swear-words were taken out he would be a mute." Well Hogan's book is swear-free except for one sentence: "I feared no opponent. If you're looking around you at the start of a race worrying about them, you'll win f**k-all."

Somehow I don't think I'll be feeling that when I line up in Leenaun tomorrow morning.