Monday, February 10, 2014

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.

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