Saturday 2 November 2013

The Treacherous Encounters of a Clumsy Runner





I have started running again in the last few months. I am not a very well co-ordinated human being. I often  run into trouble (badum-tsch). Below I will discuss some of these issues.

1) When you pass other runners, what is the done thing? I feel like I should wave, or at least acknowledge them. I tried smiling but it made me really out of breath. One time I accidentally breathed too hard out of my nose from trying to smile, whilst in the midst of a cold, and a bit of snot flew out.

2) There are SO many spiders on my route around Roath park. I'm not even bothered by spiders but having to fiercely rub my face every 20 seconds because I have run through a bit of stray web and it is so unbearably tickle-y really knocks me off pace. Also, spider webs are invisible, so to everyone I pass I just resemble a sweaty schizophrenic with a tic.

3) Although I don't mind spiders, I did not enjoy looking down to change a song on my i-pod to then look up and to actually nearly be eating a fucking huge eight legged friend and to be covered in sticky flies. I genuinely had a full blown web covering my face. Luckily there wasn't anybody about at this point but I could have actually done a poo in my pants with fear. I'm not going to squeal if I see you in the bathroom, but I don't want to fucking eat you and have your babies hatch inside me, causing me to be the focus of a new elephant-man-esque documentary on Channel 4. I cut my run short and had a crazy long shower incessantly scraping at my skin and hair.

4) When you are not a runner, or even if you are a runner but you are not running at that very moment, you forget the little things that can really piss someone in mid-stride off. My pet hate is brady-bunch type families who take up the entire pathway, gayly pushing some blonde twat on a tricycle around and carelessly casting bread to the swans, with not a care in the world. Meanwhile I am coming up behind them trying awkwardly to change my pace and waiting for a gap in the five person barricade across my route. Running around them wouldn't be a problem if we weren't already fully instated in the rainy period, but now the grass verges pose as a poor man's Total-Wipeout, but with nice warm water replaced by the swampy turd of a dozen animals.

5) When I go running, I plait my hair, wash my face and use my profound ugliness sans-make-up as a reason to go burn some calories. The amount of girls I see running in a full face of make-up staggers me. Do they not sweat? Do they not wipe their faces? Do they not run through webs like I? Do they assume people to look intently at their faces in search of a blemish as they whizz past them? More to the point, do they care what some hunchbacked, smelly, swan feeding cretin thinks of their face? I actually saw a girl running with false eyelashes on just this week, one flailing slightly in the face of the wind and rain. She looked like if Marilyn Manson and Chucky had forged a love child out of their butts.

6) Sprints. Good god sprints. I have been incorporating sprints into my runs as wise people tell me they help burn fat for longer. The sprints aren't the problem really, a good crescendo on my i-pod and I am Forest Gump with the world flying by in my peripheral vision, my cheeks wobbling in the wind. It is when that sprint is over and I realise how fucking tired I have made myself. I feel like I am having an aneurysm but know I still have six kilometers  to go. My legs slow to a pace in which I imagine slugs see me as no big competition in the race to the next tree. Then, by the time I have finally recovered, another sprint is mere seconds away. The injustices of life.

7) Wolf Whisling. This truly is beyond me. Anyone who has ever seen me exercise will tell you that I am a formidable looking beast in the act of exertion. My face goes unfathomably red, highlighting the inevitable lurking acne on my chin further. My thin hair clings to my neck and face in a sweaty clump and often my unfortunate hairline is laid bare for all to see. I have the look of a pained animal on my face, which in my head looks like heroic determination. Nobody in their right mind would wolf whistle me. But they do! They bloody do, the bastards! It makes no sense to me. Men have a strange assumption about women who exercise. Years of music videos and 90's gym scenes have led them to believe that they should be attracted to a woman running. How they have been misled. Also, it puts me off, I've run through many a sludgy puddle, water splashing up to my face, following the shocking disbelief on hearing a whistle of apparent appreciation from some spotty teenagers in a polo.

If you have any suggestions on how to remedy any of these issues I would be very grateful for your feedback. Maybe a comedy horn to toot to indicate that I need to get by? Maybe a little flag I can raise by pressing a button on my i-pod, which reads " hello fellow runner"? Maybe a plastic face shield to avoid web-face?  I could be a running Mr.Gadget.

I do actually enjoy running, and have, over the weeks seen great improvement in my tone and cardiovascular abilities. It gives me a sense of pride and achievement. So I will continue to run, regardless of the obstacle course it creates for a clumsy soul like myself. No matter how slowly you are going, you are still lapping the person on the couch.


That's all for now
Jojo xxx