The First Running Update

Last weekend I had that flash of inspiration during which I decided to start running. I told you about it and no one appeared to show much interest. But, I've been out doing it.

It's now Saturday morning in London, the sun is out and the sky is blue and I'm about to hit the road for my fourth, yes fourth, run this week. I've got a "regular" route which is probably only about a mile or so, you know the one. I go out of my house, turn left, turn left again and keep turning left until I find myself back at my front door. I've even got myself a vague plan of sorts.

Currently I can't run the whole circuit without stopping for a break so I'm working on going a little bit further everytime until I can run the whole thing non stop. Then, once I get to that stage, I'll try to run a bit longer and to bring my time down. It's fairly deep in the barrels of winter here so I'm out in the cold and the rain and it does test one's determination to actually get out and do it.

The first time I went out, armed with new Adidas shorts and "special" socks that I'd bought that morning, I had a slightly awkward encounter with a woman and pushchair. It was dark and I was running up the road as I saw this lady in front of me and walking in the same direction as I was heading. As I approached them I suddenly realised that I was totally knackered and would need to stop for a rest soon. And, for a fellow like me, being totally knackered, running for the first time in some years and cold weather, manifests itself in the form of deep panting and heavy breathing. I'm sure an experienced runner wouldn't have been that knackered but also would have sailed past the woman and child and slowly become a dot on their horizon.

Not me though. The closer I got to them the more my legs felt like jelly. The more my legs felt like jelly the more apprehensive I felt as I knew she could hear me behind her and I saw her walk get a little bit brisker and faster. I knew that I couldn't stop and die just behind her as it would make her feel a bit nervous, but I knew that I couldn't do it ahead of her either. I'm considerate like that, I really didn't want this woman to think she was about to be mugged, or jogged. Or maybe the term is "jugged".

I overtook her, it took a long time as her walking casually with a pushchair speed was remarkably close to my running at full pelt speed. I passed her, I could feel her tense up a bit, women often do that when I'm nearby so I'm used to it. Then, from nowhere I had this renewed sense of energy. My legs just kept working and what was better was that my lungs did too. Maybe it was some sort of male pride thing that made it happen, I don't know. but I suddenly kept going and turned the corner about a hundred yards in front of her. Then I sort of died.

I stopped, bent over and deep breathed. After enough time to make many local residents consider calling the police I went on my way, feeling chuffed as I got in the house.

On Wednesday evening the girls witnessed my fitness effort. They were here, watching TV and I presented myself to them in my running gear. It will surprise you to hear that they laughed at me, quite viciously in fact. I had thought that I looked quite dashing in my garb, like one of those 100m Olympians only slightly less muscular, perhaps like Brad Pitt in Snatch, just with less tattoos and a bit more brownness to my complexion. But the girls, when they had finished laughing, decided I looked just like Mr Kohli in Bride and Prejudice, when he was doing his fitness stuff. He's now in Eastenders you know. They've just about stopped laughing.

I trotted off, leaving them to pretend to do homework. Once I returned they eventually let me in to the house. I had hoped for encouragement and words of praise and motivation, perhaps a bit of admiration for my efforts would have been nice too. What I got was slightly removed from that.

"Dad, that was quick, how far did you go? I could have done that?"

"You can't have gone far, why are you so knackered?"

"Can you do it again and I'll come with you this time?"

The last one scared me very much. It came from the eleven year old and she was wearing her school uniform. For the couple of nanoseconds in which I considered it I saw the dangers. I'd be in my kit, she'd trot off next to my in her uniform and school shoes and very probably run further and faster than me.

All parents know the great feeling of kids doing things better than we can. It's a feeling of pride mixed with a slight bruise to the ego.

But there are limits. So I said a firm no.

Must go now, I'm off again.

Happy Saturday all.