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Saturday 10 September 2016

FIT OLD PEOPLE AND KIDS WITH NOTHING BETTER TO DO! - YES IT WAS MY FIRST DAY BACK AT PARK RUN!!

And so it begins. Again.

This week was suppose to be the week that the fitness regime became one with the healthy eating regime - where I threw myself mercilessly at the hands of my sadistic sister and asked her to kick me into shape.
That was the idea anyway. However an exceptionally busy week seeing paying and free clients, made busier by an invitation to spend Wednesday evening in Bournemouth with some equally brilliant hypnotherapists, gave me plenty of excuses to not show up at bootcamp, not take part in Simply Fitness By Clare's high intensity evening dancercise class (though secretly she will have been relieved as I am the more natural mover), nor hit the gym in the aggressive gung-ho fashion originally intended.
My sister (the Clare in the aforementioned business) will handle me in her own special way when she eventually sees me, not lecturing me, but rather looking at me calmly and empathetically as a weak and pathetic lost cause of a man, or worse, a slightly retarded older brother who needs to be shown pity and mercy.
What I have just seen through to completion is my promise to get back to doing 'Park Run' on a Saturday morning.
Park Run is incredible, it is an amazing gift, where not only can you turn up at an organised running event where kind hearted members of the public volunteer their services for free to help their fellow man and woman get fitter and healthier, but also a great place to have a good chance of finding someone fatter, un-fitter and more of a loser than yourself.
James and Jon, two of three friends who attend regularly (the third being Lee who I assume is either playing football or has been grounded) met me and were very supportive and encouraging of the fact that I had actually shown up.
Jon by his own admission has been clocking some some slower than average times of late which he attributes to carrying a few extra pound, a sign of good living and enjoying himself over the summer holidays, which kind of suited me as I thought if I could at least have someone to keep up with on the first lap my time would not be entirely shameful.
James on the other hand has been achieving quicker times, a direct result of the fact that he and his wife Shona have a clear understanding that he will not drink, socialise or enjoy curry nights for the duration of any school holidays. This understandably means he has more energy (both physical and pent up frustration) so when the horn sounded to begin, he shot off at a much livelier pace, explained further by Jon who, as we started to run, nodded ahead in James'd direction and said 'he's been told he needs to be back asap'.
Resigning myself to the fact that there was instantly no catching urgent James, I decided to track Jon who seemed to my great disappointment to be running at a far healthier pace than I was hoping for.
To my credit (and thanks to Jon's charitable nature) I stayed with him for the whole of the first lap and it was only then, as I began lap number two, that things started to unravel.
Jon was doing his best to coach me, but as I headed along the path, preparing to do it all again, my screaming lungs and trembling thighs were flashing the words 'walk....walk....walk...' into my internal projector screen at an increasing rate. Shamefully I didn't let them scream the words for too long and gave them what they wanted.
Frustrated with myself that I had slowed to a healthy walking pace and had quit so easily, I decided to look for reasons to begin running again. I didn't have to wait long for my first inspiration to present itself as an older chap, quite possibly the wrong side of seventy five (unless you're Anna Nicole Smith...shit that's a bit tasteless she's dead...fuck it i'll leave it in...where was I?...oh yeah..) overtook me just as I was happily rationalising that my walk was as fast as some peoples running. He didn't look like he was running very fast at all, but even my best power strides were losing ground on him. I dug deep and began, once more, to jog.
It was a good hundred and fifty yards or more of solid jogging before I came to the very logical conclusion that he was probably a former SAS soldier, conditioned to tab for hundreds of miles across hostile, arid desert and that I shouldn't be trying to compete with a former war hero at all. Respectfully I slowed once more, just, just as I was about to almost overtake him and returned to a commendable meandering pace.
I reasoned that I couldn't, no shouldn't use this old chap - this veteran of dozens of covert and treacherous military campaigns who had probably made the conscious decision to run as often as he could in memory of fallen comrades, to achieve my own selfish goals and so, showing great reverence, I allowed him once again to put some distance between himself and me.
I needed something else I concluded, another reason to inspire me and motivate my legs to start running again - I didn't have to wait too long.
They say god, if he existed, moves in mysterious ways and that if you ask something from him, you shall receive and as I asked for a person or a sign to encourage or shame me into returning to, at the very least a slow jogging pace, the universe delivered by giving me a father and his six year old girl, overtaking me at some pace on the inside.
My first thought was simply 'What the fuck?', my second 'Wow that kid has a lot of stamina', my third and fourth took a sudden change in direction as I silently asked 'Have you nothing better to do? No ipad or a brother and sister to torment at home, or hmmm, does mummy have a reason to get you out the house that daddy should know about?'. As my mind descended into evil I somewhat compromised with my final thought being 'I can take you both' and with a gritted smirk, my legs opened up and I began to gallop.
For a while I ran like a migrating wildebeest, head down, long strides carrying me forward, compelled by an invisible calling and it was only after the best part of another two hundred yards and a father and daughter left way behind in my dusty wake, that I decided to reward myself with an extended stroll.
As the pace slowed and I walked once more, it suddenly came to me what I had to do to atone for the nasty thoughts I had been having about that small innocent child and a mother I couldn't really ever be sure was having an affair.
I had to let that kid win. If I let her win it would make everything right.
Unfortunately so marvellous was my impromptu impression of a gnu moments earlier (that's another word for a wildebeest), that there was already quite some distance between myself, her and her dad and that it would take a long period of me walking fairly slow (think dawdle) to happily see that little treasure, once again overtaking me to finish ahead of me and getting daddy home sooner than expected (....whoops there I go again).
From that point on, content that I had absolutely done the right thing, I finished lap two with a gentle, musing stroll. Jon had left me but I encouragingly could still see him way up ahead and so when I passed through the gates to signal the final flat run into the finish, I began to run for the final time.
James fair play to him, was there already and it looked like he had been there for some time as he was on the phone, apologising to someone profusely and assuring them that he would be there as soon as he could (wherever there was) and that it wouldn't happen again.
Both friends congratulated me for finishing my first run back, but grateful as I was, I felt too tired to feel triumphant. We walked back along the path in the direction of Jons house and were all in total agreement that regardless of personal times, we had all earned a Sunday afternoon beer.

Just as we got to the end of the path and as we were about to pass through the gate, my attention was drawn to that same little girl and her father doing warm down exercises and leg stretches on the last bench in the park.
'Hey' I called out 'You beat me!' I said, jabbing a joking finger in the direction of the youngster who giggle and beamed back proudly. Smiling I turned to her dad 'wow you can tell she's yours' I said as I patted his shoulder and handed him my business card.

I am already feeling that high that runners get and looking forward to next Saturdays run. (36.09)

http://www.parkrun.org.uk/bexley/
http://www.simplyfitnessbyclare.co.uk
www.advancedhypnosis.co.uk
www.omnihypnosis.london





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