This Saturday, I was feeling good. I woke at 9am in the morning, the equivalent of the crack of dawn for a university student. I was feeling good. I ate Weetabix topped with honey and carefully sliced bananas. I was feeling good. I got dressed in my finest running gear. I was feeling good. I left the house and started to run. I was feeling good. It was, as usual, raining. That didn’t matter. I was feeling good. A car decided to drive ridiculously close to the puddle-ridden curb, sending a wave of cold water into my face. That didn’t matter. I was feeling good. I entered the park. Was feeling slightly less good (was getting slightly breathless) but I felt that I was running slightly faster than normal so, relative to normal, I felt good.
When suddenly, out of nowhere, a boy ran past me. Now, this wouldn’t have bothered me if the boy had been adolescent or even above the age of eight. But this cherub looked like he’d stopped wearing nappies barely two days ago.
I was suddenly feeling less good. In fact, I was feeling pretty bad. All I could think was – you are like two. Your legs are half the size of mine. How are you doing this?!!!
I comforted myself by thinking that the boy was some abnormal freak of nature. Obviously, this child was the next Mo Farah. However, this deduction was swiftly quashed as not one, not two but eight other small boys progressively made their way past me. I was being outpaced by some sort of infantile running club.
Just when I thought that my ego couldn’t possibly shrink more, a man ran past me. Initially, I was relieved that I had finally been overtaken by somebody who was taller than me. Then, I noticed that this man could not have been below the age of fifty. He was grey haired and more than slightly chubby around the edges.
The man, obviously some sort of instructor, shouted after the small boys. “Right boys! Now that we’re warmed up, I want you to do the next lap at your normal pace!”
By this point, I was considerably behind the running group. I watched, disbelieving, as the boys accelerated out of their ‘warm-up’ pace. I felt like a rhinoceros chasing a pack of cheetahs.
I guess I’m going to have to re-evaluate my perception of myself running. Before this run, there was still a small, extortionately hopeful and blatantly deluded part of myself that thought I looked like this:
When in fact I probably looked a bit like this (minus the crazed mob):
I feel as if I have been thrust from the ‘running’ category firmly into the jogging one. Still, despite the slightly soul-crushing nature of this jog, it did make me feel better. So bring on the next one!
All of the Interesting Things I See When Running 