I mean, it was only minus 2 degrees outside, why wouldn't
you expect to see sometbody in trainers, shorts, running top and a luminous
striped hat heading for the door to go for a run. Perfectly normal where I come
from.
To be fair, I did have to question my own sense of sanity as
the icy blast of the night air tore through my flimsy polyster top and almost
took my breath away.
Had to keep repeating the mantra I'd seen on Facebook
recently about how it doesn't matter how far or slowly you run, you're still
going further than you would sat on your arse watching telly.
With that in mind I bravely set off on my jog through
Banbury town centre. I say bravely, it really wasn't, it was more stupid than
brave, but I gritted my teeth nonetheless and started the film of my life
playing in my head to keep me going.
In all honesty, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
After leaving the office this evening the cold felt almost crippling, but then,
you don’t go running in a cheap suit from M&S and an even cheaper cotton
shirt, unless you’re being chased by muggers I guess.
Properly attired the cold
was not so much of a problem, and anyway, the layers of lard I’m working so
hard to shift off my frame played a key role in keeping me alive. Also,
considering I break into a sweat from stepping up a kerb, it wasn’t long before
I warmed up on my run.
I did see one or two other similarly luminous people
trudging round, which made me feel a bit better, although they seemd to hunt in
packs and were much quicker than me. I’ve never been a fan of running clubs,
always felt I’d never be quick enough to keep up and frankly I had years of
lolling at the back of the pack in sport
when I was at school, and it’s not an experience I wish to repeat by
choice as an adult. Besides, I enjoy the solitary nature of running on my own,
with my own thoughts for company, shaking off the stresses of the day and, once
again, pretending I’m playing Rocky in that scene when he runs through the
streets of his home town. Was it Philidelphia or Pitsburg? I can never
remember.
As I was consumed with these thoughts and other weighty
issues, I realised I was jogging past the historic Banbury Cross, so I stopped briefly (any excuse) and took
out my phone to take a quick pic. So as I was reviewing my handiwork, which was
pretty crap as I managed to cut the top off it somehow, I was dawdling in the
middle of the pavement a little and started to move off again. But as I looked
up, suddenly out of nowhere the running club I’d seen a few minutes ago were
charging towards me with the all terrifying force of a herd of day-glow
wilderbeast.
I stood paralysed with fear as seemingly hundreds (probably half a
dozen) of them swerved either side of me to avoid flattening me completely.
They didn’t look best pleased that I had somehow got in their way, so much for
the solidarity of the running fraternity.
Once again, I bravely found the courage to go on in the
face of overwhelming adversity, and headed back up the hill towards the hotel.
It was a fairly stop-start run but did manage
35 minutes and covered about 2.5 miles, which was better than sitting on my
arse in my hotel room. Especially as the telly only has five channels and the only thing slower than me
round here is the free wifi. I only wish the sniggering beer drinkers had still
been there to see me return from battle, tired but victorious and just a little
bit ice cold.
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