Friday, February 28, 2014
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Life lessons from an Ostrich
I know beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but I'm guessing most people would agree that the ostrich isn't the best looking creature around. They are the planet's largest birds, but do not fly. Graceful and languid are not words you would normally associate with them. They also have three stomachs (pretty weird) and their brains are supposedly the same size as their eye-ball, which means if there was a MENSA club in the animal kingdom, there's not much chance of too many ostriches being registered members.
For all these reasons, it would be understandable if all an ostrich did was mope around, lay a gigantic egg or two, and generally feel sorry for itself.
But! Organise a 100 mts in the outback, and our ostrich friend will most likely decimate the competition. On its day, not only can it outrun pretty much every other land animal apart from the cheetah, it is also the fastest creature on two legs. (Wikipedia says this, so it must be true).
Recently, when languidly flicking through channels, I chanced upon a nature programme. Watching the ostrich at full tilt was a sight to behold. In fact, you could almost see a smile on its face as it blazed across the field, a bit like the Road Runner in the cartoons I remember watching as a kid.
Here was this awkward, not very good-looking, small-brained bird, doing the thing it loved, and loving it. It was so inspiring that I nearly went out for a run that very instant. (I didn't, because I still had some banana chips to finish).
The point is, if you have found your passion, the thing you do best, then do it more and do it even better. If you haven't found it yet, don't do that other thing ostriches do and keep your head buried in the sand. Seek it out, that thing you love, and your life will never be the same.
The world is waiting; what are you waiting for?
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Stretch!
Someone once told me- reach for the stars but keep your feet on the ground. This has always struck me as being very good advice because it means you have to streeeeetch.
I have been thinking about stretching in a more literal sense lately, particularly as I've started running again and muscles I didn't know existed have started to painfully make their presence felt.
Stretching in a metaphorical sense, however, is more important than ever. When you do this, you automatically set yourself up to go further. It means you never settle. It means you run along the edges of your comfort zone until your find the door marked 'Exit', and then push it open. Yes, the door will be alarmed and so will you be, at first. But when you are through it you find that this new place, although strange and scary, will soon be your comfort zone too. And so on and on you must go, never stopping, because there will always be another door, another challenge, another part of you waiting to be stretched.
When something feels like failure, it very rarely is, because as clichéd as it sounds, it has taught you something new and is therefore in fact a victory you would never otherwise have experienced. By stretching, you've changed a part of yourself permanently, even if it's so little that you can barely notice it yourself. Very few things return to their original state once they've been stretched hard enough.
Never let fear hold you back; use it instead as a flaming torch when you're running through the dark forests of doubt and despair. Fear can be good; it can be your friend. If you never have that crazy, lurching, gut-churning feeling that people euphemistically describe as butterflies in your stomach, it means you haven't walked through that door with the big red X on it yet. So go on, gently push it open or kick it down. Whatever works for you. Everyone, without exception, is capable of more than they think. Push the boundaries, embrace the challenge, conquer the fear. And stretch.
I have been thinking about stretching in a more literal sense lately, particularly as I've started running again and muscles I didn't know existed have started to painfully make their presence felt.
Stretching in a metaphorical sense, however, is more important than ever. When you do this, you automatically set yourself up to go further. It means you never settle. It means you run along the edges of your comfort zone until your find the door marked 'Exit', and then push it open. Yes, the door will be alarmed and so will you be, at first. But when you are through it you find that this new place, although strange and scary, will soon be your comfort zone too. And so on and on you must go, never stopping, because there will always be another door, another challenge, another part of you waiting to be stretched.
When something feels like failure, it very rarely is, because as clichéd as it sounds, it has taught you something new and is therefore in fact a victory you would never otherwise have experienced. By stretching, you've changed a part of yourself permanently, even if it's so little that you can barely notice it yourself. Very few things return to their original state once they've been stretched hard enough.
Never let fear hold you back; use it instead as a flaming torch when you're running through the dark forests of doubt and despair. Fear can be good; it can be your friend. If you never have that crazy, lurching, gut-churning feeling that people euphemistically describe as butterflies in your stomach, it means you haven't walked through that door with the big red X on it yet. So go on, gently push it open or kick it down. Whatever works for you. Everyone, without exception, is capable of more than they think. Push the boundaries, embrace the challenge, conquer the fear. And stretch.
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
First day of training
In other news, training for Fundraising2014 (more details here) officially kicked off this morning. Let’s be clear, if I was doing this ten years ago, at the peak of my physical prowess, and I was going to tweet about the experience, I would have said something like #TrainIntheRain or #BornToRun or maybe even #PainIsYourFriend.
Today, however, if was inclined to tweet, it would just be #%*!* and even that would only be half the word because I would have passed out while I was still typing.
Many people, and I suppose writers are some of the main culprits, often live in a parallel universe consisting of romanticised versions of the real thing. Sometimes they do this as a defence, and sometimes just for their own amusement. Either way, the question is not whether reality will eventually bite, but where it will bite, and how much it will hurt.
And so late last evening, I pictured myself waking up this morning with the first light, gliding through the park with a gentle breeze at my back, and the sound of birdsong in my ears. The fact of the matter was there was no sun, no breeze and, after roughly ten minutes, I could not figure out whether it was mucus or saliva that had covered half of my face.
So, after returning home (and lying down for a few hours until my breathing returned to normal) I have got straight down to work. Firstly, I have discarded the romantic version of the race itself- one in which I pictured myself in an epic one-on-one battle with reigning Olympic champion Mo Farah for first place, eventually pipping him by mere millimetres with a stunning lunge for the finish line at the last possible second.
Next, I have come up with a running plan. As of today, there are exactly 13 weeks until the first run so this is what I have resolved to do:
Weeks 1-5 = 2 runs a week
Weeks 5-10 = 3 runs a week
Weeks 10-13 = 4 runs a week
This will give me a total of (I think) 35 runs before raceday which sounds about right. I figure if the running distance remains the same but I increase the frequency, it should have the same effect as increasing the distance because otherwise I would have to measure my distances with some new-fangled piece of technology which I would prefer to do without.
Of course, it is possible that some proper runner has just stumbled on this blog and is rolling on the floor laughing at my hopelessly inadequate running plan, before composing himself and posting this link on some running forum so that everyone can have a good laugh before climbing Everest on their lunch breaks, but hey-ho. I will just have to do what I can.
And yes, this plan will only take me as far as the first run which is just half the job done. The second run is almost exactly 7 weeks after the first, so unless this particular regime spectacularly backfires for May, I will follow the same pattern for July. Then, and only then, will I rest. That's all for now, folks. Stay posted.
#PleaseDonate.
Today, however, if was inclined to tweet, it would just be #%*!* and even that would only be half the word because I would have passed out while I was still typing.
Many people, and I suppose writers are some of the main culprits, often live in a parallel universe consisting of romanticised versions of the real thing. Sometimes they do this as a defence, and sometimes just for their own amusement. Either way, the question is not whether reality will eventually bite, but where it will bite, and how much it will hurt.
And so late last evening, I pictured myself waking up this morning with the first light, gliding through the park with a gentle breeze at my back, and the sound of birdsong in my ears. The fact of the matter was there was no sun, no breeze and, after roughly ten minutes, I could not figure out whether it was mucus or saliva that had covered half of my face.
So, after returning home (and lying down for a few hours until my breathing returned to normal) I have got straight down to work. Firstly, I have discarded the romantic version of the race itself- one in which I pictured myself in an epic one-on-one battle with reigning Olympic champion Mo Farah for first place, eventually pipping him by mere millimetres with a stunning lunge for the finish line at the last possible second.
Next, I have come up with a running plan. As of today, there are exactly 13 weeks until the first run so this is what I have resolved to do:
Weeks 1-5 = 2 runs a week
Weeks 5-10 = 3 runs a week
Weeks 10-13 = 4 runs a week
This will give me a total of (I think) 35 runs before raceday which sounds about right. I figure if the running distance remains the same but I increase the frequency, it should have the same effect as increasing the distance because otherwise I would have to measure my distances with some new-fangled piece of technology which I would prefer to do without.
Of course, it is possible that some proper runner has just stumbled on this blog and is rolling on the floor laughing at my hopelessly inadequate running plan, before composing himself and posting this link on some running forum so that everyone can have a good laugh before climbing Everest on their lunch breaks, but hey-ho. I will just have to do what I can.
And yes, this plan will only take me as far as the first run which is just half the job done. The second run is almost exactly 7 weeks after the first, so unless this particular regime spectacularly backfires for May, I will follow the same pattern for July. Then, and only then, will I rest. That's all for now, folks. Stay posted.
#PleaseDonate.
India Election Watch #Day4
This week our election coverage continues with not one but two posts (I hope you are suitably impressed). If you are new here, and would like to start from the beginning (or begin from the start) please click here and read from the bottom up and you will soon be fully up-to-date.
Firstly, it gives me great pleasure to welcome Ad Absurdum's first guest columnist in its eight-year history. Sujaya Jacob is currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in politics and international relations. In her first piece for us, she gives her take on what has been (and continues to be) arguably the most widely-discussed tv event in the history of Indian politics- Rahul Gandhi's interview with Arnab Goswami. At last count, it has had over 2 million views on YouTube, and with the general elections just over three months away, it is entirely possible it will have considerable implications for both the Congress party and the country as a whole.
Aside from politics and foreign policy, Sujaya's wide-ranging interests include writing, fashion, travel, and George Clooney; not necessarily in that order.
Dear Rahul, step away from the Goswamis.
I must admit I heard the jokes and read the memes much before I actually watched the now infamous Rahul Gandhi -Arnab Goswami Times Now interview.(If you have been living under a rock, or are just fortunate enough to be born politically apathetic, you can find this piece of comic relief in its entirety below.)
A number of things struck me about the interview; firstly how intensely and passionately my disdain for Arnab Goswami had grown since the last time I was revelling in his journalistic buffoonery (the Narendra Modi interview? or was it Salman Khan?). How he had somehow become the poster boy for mainstream Indian political journalism and discourse -when did this happen? How did we let it happen? When will it stop? (The nation should want to know!). But that is best left for another time.
Secondly, and perhaps most significantly, was how incredibly unprepared the young Gandhi was for what was touted to be his tv interview debut; his first sit -down interview in over ten years. I watched as he incorporated women’s empowerment and inclusive economic growth into every question he was asked; a little bit like an aspiring beauty pageant queen and her over-eagerness for world peace. I listened as he tried and failed repeatedly to dodge Goswami’s unrelenting attempts to pit ‘The Gandhi’ against ‘The Modi’ (but Rahul, please answer the question I am asking). I winced as he fumbled awkwardly through what he considered to be the achievements of the UPA’s ten-year tenure in power. I watched as his eyes darted around the room, looking perhaps for a friendly face and a knowing smile (rumour has it big sister Priyanka Gandhi was in the room for the duration of the interview). I sighed as key terms (RTI, anyone?) regularly interjected poorly-structured arguments. And I watched as he referred to himself in the third-person before switching to the first-person with all the grammatical prowess of a shy 5th grader.
Occasionally, from the darkness of an extremely well lit room, Rahul Gandhi was allowed enough air- time to talk about what it meant to sit through the funerals of his assassinated grandmother and father respectively; what it means to have lived his life with the inescapable looming landscape of Indian political history at his back. However, there is little or no room for sentimentality in newsroom studios crowded with a crew clamouring for instant headlines and showy one-liners. So, while Mr Gandhi’s readiness for political leadership may be debatable, one thing is for sure- he is not prepared for the onslaught of Goswami and his ilk.
Dear Rahul, step away from the Goswamis.
Firstly, it gives me great pleasure to welcome Ad Absurdum's first guest columnist in its eight-year history. Sujaya Jacob is currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in politics and international relations. In her first piece for us, she gives her take on what has been (and continues to be) arguably the most widely-discussed tv event in the history of Indian politics- Rahul Gandhi's interview with Arnab Goswami. At last count, it has had over 2 million views on YouTube, and with the general elections just over three months away, it is entirely possible it will have considerable implications for both the Congress party and the country as a whole.
Aside from politics and foreign policy, Sujaya's wide-ranging interests include writing, fashion, travel, and George Clooney; not necessarily in that order.
Dear Rahul, step away from the Goswamis.
I must admit I heard the jokes and read the memes much before I actually watched the now infamous Rahul Gandhi -Arnab Goswami Times Now interview.(If you have been living under a rock, or are just fortunate enough to be born politically apathetic, you can find this piece of comic relief in its entirety below.)
A number of things struck me about the interview; firstly how intensely and passionately my disdain for Arnab Goswami had grown since the last time I was revelling in his journalistic buffoonery (the Narendra Modi interview? or was it Salman Khan?). How he had somehow become the poster boy for mainstream Indian political journalism and discourse -when did this happen? How did we let it happen? When will it stop? (The nation should want to know!). But that is best left for another time.
Secondly, and perhaps most significantly, was how incredibly unprepared the young Gandhi was for what was touted to be his tv interview debut; his first sit -down interview in over ten years. I watched as he incorporated women’s empowerment and inclusive economic growth into every question he was asked; a little bit like an aspiring beauty pageant queen and her over-eagerness for world peace. I listened as he tried and failed repeatedly to dodge Goswami’s unrelenting attempts to pit ‘The Gandhi’ against ‘The Modi’ (but Rahul, please answer the question I am asking). I winced as he fumbled awkwardly through what he considered to be the achievements of the UPA’s ten-year tenure in power. I watched as his eyes darted around the room, looking perhaps for a friendly face and a knowing smile (rumour has it big sister Priyanka Gandhi was in the room for the duration of the interview). I sighed as key terms (RTI, anyone?) regularly interjected poorly-structured arguments. And I watched as he referred to himself in the third-person before switching to the first-person with all the grammatical prowess of a shy 5th grader.
Occasionally, from the darkness of an extremely well lit room, Rahul Gandhi was allowed enough air- time to talk about what it meant to sit through the funerals of his assassinated grandmother and father respectively; what it means to have lived his life with the inescapable looming landscape of Indian political history at his back. However, there is little or no room for sentimentality in newsroom studios crowded with a crew clamouring for instant headlines and showy one-liners. So, while Mr Gandhi’s readiness for political leadership may be debatable, one thing is for sure- he is not prepared for the onslaught of Goswami and his ilk.
Dear Rahul, step away from the Goswamis.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
And so the Delhi experiment, one that started on a cold winter's day in December, has ended 49 days later. Arvind Kejriwal has resigned as the Chief Minister and is now back to being just another 'Aam Aadmi', albeit one who is now preparing his party for the national elections.
The AAP came to power on a wave of hope and optimism, and much of that has now given way to confusion and despair. Questions remain on what it all means, and whether the AAP is really a viable option as a national party. Others see Delhi as just the first act in a larger political game. Only time will tell.
In the meantime, however, a couple of folks have weighed in with their opinions. I have been following Captain Gopinath's blog-posts for some time now, and they have always come across as interesting and insightful; particularly when appearing to be at odds with Kejriwal and the AAP, a party he is a member of. His latest post is perhaps, in my opinion, his most articulate yet. It attempts to explain some of the circumstances surrounding the government's early demise, offers a glimpse of what lies ahead, and even takes in a quote by Wordsworth along the way. I would recommend you read the full post here.
Meanwhile, someone else whose posts I have been following, and whose name I have invoked before, is Mani Shankar Aiyar. In his latest post, probably published within minutes of Kejriwal vacating his chair, he has listed about 20 bullet points- each one mocking the AAP's tenure in power. In fact, you get the sense that this obituary- of-sorts was drafted well before the death occurred; such is the perverse glee that emanates from it. It is an astonishing piece of writing; its triumphant, I-told-you-so note deeply disturbing. For reasons completely different from the previous link, I recommend reading the full post here.
If these pontifications are intended to come off as brave and defiant in the face of near-certain electoral defeat, I personally don't think it is working. Instead, they are making him look either arrogant, ignorant or in denial, and sometimes all three at the same time. He is starting to remind me of the Iraqi minister who appeared on tv interviews at the start of the Iraq war in 2003, proudly proclaiming that Bhagdad is secure, even as the tanks were slowly rolling up behind him. I am now increasingly convinced that Ronan Keating was thinking of Mr. Aiyar when he sang- you say it best, when you say nothing at all.
If I was to be so bold as to offer this seasoned politician some advice, it would be this: Please, Mr. Aiyar, please just stop. Please stop listing problems and start listing solutions. And if you are going to reflect, reflect on the state of our great nation rather than the shortcomings of other individuals and political parties. Reflect on the more than 50 years your own party has been in power, and reflect on the reasons why Arvind Kejriwal and the Aam Aadmi Party have come into being. Then, maybe, just maybe, we will listen to what you have to say.
The AAP came to power on a wave of hope and optimism, and much of that has now given way to confusion and despair. Questions remain on what it all means, and whether the AAP is really a viable option as a national party. Others see Delhi as just the first act in a larger political game. Only time will tell.
In the meantime, however, a couple of folks have weighed in with their opinions. I have been following Captain Gopinath's blog-posts for some time now, and they have always come across as interesting and insightful; particularly when appearing to be at odds with Kejriwal and the AAP, a party he is a member of. His latest post is perhaps, in my opinion, his most articulate yet. It attempts to explain some of the circumstances surrounding the government's early demise, offers a glimpse of what lies ahead, and even takes in a quote by Wordsworth along the way. I would recommend you read the full post here.
Meanwhile, someone else whose posts I have been following, and whose name I have invoked before, is Mani Shankar Aiyar. In his latest post, probably published within minutes of Kejriwal vacating his chair, he has listed about 20 bullet points- each one mocking the AAP's tenure in power. In fact, you get the sense that this obituary- of-sorts was drafted well before the death occurred; such is the perverse glee that emanates from it. It is an astonishing piece of writing; its triumphant, I-told-you-so note deeply disturbing. For reasons completely different from the previous link, I recommend reading the full post here.
If these pontifications are intended to come off as brave and defiant in the face of near-certain electoral defeat, I personally don't think it is working. Instead, they are making him look either arrogant, ignorant or in denial, and sometimes all three at the same time. He is starting to remind me of the Iraqi minister who appeared on tv interviews at the start of the Iraq war in 2003, proudly proclaiming that Bhagdad is secure, even as the tanks were slowly rolling up behind him. I am now increasingly convinced that Ronan Keating was thinking of Mr. Aiyar when he sang- you say it best, when you say nothing at all.
If I was to be so bold as to offer this seasoned politician some advice, it would be this: Please, Mr. Aiyar, please just stop. Please stop listing problems and start listing solutions. And if you are going to reflect, reflect on the state of our great nation rather than the shortcomings of other individuals and political parties. Reflect on the more than 50 years your own party has been in power, and reflect on the reasons why Arvind Kejriwal and the Aam Aadmi Party have come into being. Then, maybe, just maybe, we will listen to what you have to say.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Fundraising 2014 kicks off today!
Dear friends,
Many of you gave so generously to my 2013 'Movember' fundraiser (which you can read more about here), in aid of prostate cancer. Along with the many kind donations, it was (somewhat justifiably) pointed out to me that growing a moustache for a month, despite the many challenges it presented to me personally, did not require much physical effort on my part.
So, for 2014, I thought I would change this by attempting to do two 10 km runs, in aid of two different charities. While not a massive distance per se, I am well aware there will be many obstacles along the way, chief among them being my chronic lack of both motivation and fitness. Even so, I am determined to see these through- both for the sake of the charities involved, and the two remarkable women who have inspired me throughout my life.
As some of you may know, my paternal grandmother (86 years old) recently underwent treatment for cancer and is now recuperating. So my first run on 25th May will be in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support, a charity that does a lot of important work improving lives of cancer patients in the UK.
You can find out more about them and make a donation at this link: http://www.justgiving.com/ajayjacob
My maternal grandmother (96 years old and currently in poor health) has suffered from glaucoma and it has been passed on to my mother who will need to use eye-drops for the rest of her life. My second run on 13th July will be in aid of the International Glaucoma Association (IGA), a charity that provides crucial support for patients as well as funding research into a cure.
You can find out more about them and make a donation at this link: http://www.justgiving.com/ajayjacob1
Even though the runs are still a few months away, I hope you will take a few moments to:
1) Make a donation to one or both of these great causes. Even a small amount will make a huge difference.
2) Forward this to any friends and colleagues who might consider donating.
Thank you so much for doing either one or both of the above. You can follow my progress on either the individual JustGiving links above or on this blog here; I will post updates as often as I can.
Very many thanks again for your support.
Many of you gave so generously to my 2013 'Movember' fundraiser (which you can read more about here), in aid of prostate cancer. Along with the many kind donations, it was (somewhat justifiably) pointed out to me that growing a moustache for a month, despite the many challenges it presented to me personally, did not require much physical effort on my part.
So, for 2014, I thought I would change this by attempting to do two 10 km runs, in aid of two different charities. While not a massive distance per se, I am well aware there will be many obstacles along the way, chief among them being my chronic lack of both motivation and fitness. Even so, I am determined to see these through- both for the sake of the charities involved, and the two remarkable women who have inspired me throughout my life.
As some of you may know, my paternal grandmother (86 years old) recently underwent treatment for cancer and is now recuperating. So my first run on 25th May will be in aid of Macmillan Cancer Support, a charity that does a lot of important work improving lives of cancer patients in the UK.
You can find out more about them and make a donation at this link: http://www.justgiving.com/ajayjacob
My maternal grandmother (96 years old and currently in poor health) has suffered from glaucoma and it has been passed on to my mother who will need to use eye-drops for the rest of her life. My second run on 13th July will be in aid of the International Glaucoma Association (IGA), a charity that provides crucial support for patients as well as funding research into a cure.
You can find out more about them and make a donation at this link: http://www.justgiving.com/ajayjacob1
Even though the runs are still a few months away, I hope you will take a few moments to:
1) Make a donation to one or both of these great causes. Even a small amount will make a huge difference.
2) Forward this to any friends and colleagues who might consider donating.
Thank you so much for doing either one or both of the above. You can follow my progress on either the individual JustGiving links above or on this blog here; I will post updates as often as I can.
Very many thanks again for your support.
Friday, February 14, 2014
For Nigel Jenkins (1949-2014)
It was with a deep sadness that I found out about the recent death of Nigel Jenkins, co-director of the Swansea Uni Creative Writing Programme which I was so fortunate to be part of. Besides being an outstanding poet and writer, Nigel was a remarkable man who will be missed by many, both in the beautiful land of Wales and far beyond.
For me, he was one of those very rare people- someone I considered both a mentor and a friend. He was the best type of teacher- critiquing without being critical, spurring you on without wearing you down; always gently demanding excellence. He was inspirational, generous with his time, and unfailingly supportive. His passion for writing was infectious, but so too was his enthusiasm for life.
Nigel was not one for the ivory towers, always choosing instead to be in the cafes and pubs with his students. It was there, as much as in the classroom, that you would be likely to catch glimpses of a greatness he often hid behind his baritone voice and hearty laugh. Those evenings with him always felt like they came to an end much too early, and now his untimely demise feels much the same.
While I cannot help but mourn his passing, Nigel, along with his words, his wit and his wisdom, will always remain in a warm corner of the memory; a place the tides of time cannot quite reach, and where the sun always shines.
Diolch i chi, Nigel, a hwyl fawr.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Just when I was wondering why there weren't any ads with this song as the soundtrack, here's the latest hyper-fuzzy, puppy-love commercial from Budweiser. Enjoy responsibly.
While on the topic of advertisements, this Coke ad is probably one of the best I've seen in recent times. Clever inversion of a universal theme, and simple execution. Connection to a soft drink is tenuous, but then so is the connection of a puppy to beer.
While on the topic of advertisements, this Coke ad is probably one of the best I've seen in recent times. Clever inversion of a universal theme, and simple execution. Connection to a soft drink is tenuous, but then so is the connection of a puppy to beer.
Run FatBoy Run
A couple of weeks ago, in a fit of uncharacteristic spontaneity, I signed up for not one but two competitive runs. Since then, I have spent a considerable amount of time thinking about exactly what it was I was thinking when I did this.
One possible explanation is the running gene that supposedly runs (ha!) through my family. I have been reliably informed by my grandmother that my father started running almost as soon as he could stand unaided, and usually took off like a shot the moment he had the tiniest inkling it was bath time. The aversion to baths may have reduced as he got older, but the running continued all the way to the Kerala state record books for the 800 metres.
My own short running career, while far less stellar, did have a few significant moments; notably the half-marathon at age 23 when I was all set for a silver medal until I took a wrong turn a couple of hundred metres from the end and was duly disqualified (there's a metaphor for my life in there somewhere, but we will save it for another day)
Since then, both age and apathy have taken its toll and the only running I have been doing of late is running off with my imagination, running away from responsibility, and running after a train or bus when I am late (which is all the time). None of which actually counts as any sort of preparation for an actual run. So, come May and then July this year, I fear that any remnants of my youth will most likely lie scattered amongst the rubbish along the route in central London, waiting to be sucked up by a slow-moving motorised street-cleaner, which itself may overtake me around the half-way mark.
The first run, on the 25th of May, is the BUPA London 10K, an event which has been won by reigning Olympic champion Mo Farah for the last five years. To be honest, there's a good chance I will be so Farah from him that he will probably be getting ready to start the Rome 10k just as I am completing London.
All of which suggests that the outlook is decidedly bleak. Still, the most important thing in all of this is that it is all for a good cause. In the larger scheme of things, my personal and near-certain humiliation is a small price to pay in the pursuit of the greater good. I will be in touch shortly with links where you can donate to the very worthy causes I will be running for. Please give what you can. Both charities, and my bruised and battered ego, will be extremely grateful. Thank you and good night.
One possible explanation is the running gene that supposedly runs (ha!) through my family. I have been reliably informed by my grandmother that my father started running almost as soon as he could stand unaided, and usually took off like a shot the moment he had the tiniest inkling it was bath time. The aversion to baths may have reduced as he got older, but the running continued all the way to the Kerala state record books for the 800 metres.
My own short running career, while far less stellar, did have a few significant moments; notably the half-marathon at age 23 when I was all set for a silver medal until I took a wrong turn a couple of hundred metres from the end and was duly disqualified (there's a metaphor for my life in there somewhere, but we will save it for another day)
Since then, both age and apathy have taken its toll and the only running I have been doing of late is running off with my imagination, running away from responsibility, and running after a train or bus when I am late (which is all the time). None of which actually counts as any sort of preparation for an actual run. So, come May and then July this year, I fear that any remnants of my youth will most likely lie scattered amongst the rubbish along the route in central London, waiting to be sucked up by a slow-moving motorised street-cleaner, which itself may overtake me around the half-way mark.
The first run, on the 25th of May, is the BUPA London 10K, an event which has been won by reigning Olympic champion Mo Farah for the last five years. To be honest, there's a good chance I will be so Farah from him that he will probably be getting ready to start the Rome 10k just as I am completing London.
All of which suggests that the outlook is decidedly bleak. Still, the most important thing in all of this is that it is all for a good cause. In the larger scheme of things, my personal and near-certain humiliation is a small price to pay in the pursuit of the greater good. I will be in touch shortly with links where you can donate to the very worthy causes I will be running for. Please give what you can. Both charities, and my bruised and battered ego, will be extremely grateful. Thank you and good night.
Friday, February 07, 2014
When the mind pines...
When the mind pines for home,
it finds it wherever it looks;
In a silent tomb, an empty room,
or within the pages of books.
When the mind pines for spring,
it finds it in whatever it sees;
a blade of grass, a swallow's wing,
or the changing colour of trees.
When the mind pines for joy,
it finds it lurking in wait;
in a place the shadows can't destroy,
far from the machinations of fate.
When the mind pines for hope,
it clings to anything it can find;
A fortune cookie, a horoscope,
any sign the stars are aligned.
When the mind pines for love,
it seeks it out far and wide;
But the heart knows, as it often does,
you start by looking inside.
it finds it wherever it looks;
In a silent tomb, an empty room,
or within the pages of books.
When the mind pines for spring,
it finds it in whatever it sees;
a blade of grass, a swallow's wing,
or the changing colour of trees.
When the mind pines for joy,
it finds it lurking in wait;
in a place the shadows can't destroy,
far from the machinations of fate.
When the mind pines for hope,
it clings to anything it can find;
A fortune cookie, a horoscope,
any sign the stars are aligned.
When the mind pines for love,
it seeks it out far and wide;
But the heart knows, as it often does,
you start by looking inside.
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