Running
on...
There
are sure signs that autumn has arrived but in our town it is not the
colour of the trees, in fact most of them are still green. It's not
the falling chestnuts, though there are plenty of them. No, its the
sudden wave of joggers that hit the streets and parks. Many of them
wearing suspiciously shiny shoes and gleaming new track suits. Yes,
it's time for the annual half-marathon. Last Sunday more than 18,000
athletes and fun runners took part. About 2000 of them participating
in the main event.
Although it had been raining for an hour or so the sun was shining as the leading athletes breezed past so smoothly and effortlessly I swear that their feet never actually touch the ground. That must be against the rules! After what seemed like an age the next competitors came into sight, and the next, and the next. Gradually there were fewer and shorter gaps between the runners. Where the tail end of the race merged with the best of the recreational runners there was noticeably a greater variation in style and body shape. It was also the beginning of a seemingly unending kaleidoscopic ribbon of head bobbing bodies. We were on a new part of the circuit, just a few hundred yards from our apartment. The runners approached along a footpath on one side of the river, crossed the bridge where we were standing and made their way back towards the city along the opposite bank. A picturesque, multi-coloured spectacle on both riverbanks.
In
this jostling mass of runners it was difficult to pick out the few
friends taking part – some of them saw us first – experienced,
fit, trained, not quite as fast as they used to be but that didn't
matter. Each one had a broad smile and a relaxed stride: fun
runners, having fun.
Then
it was time for the less trained, less talented, beginners and
one-timers. For some this half marathon would be their ultimate
physical achievement, for some an impulse for a healthier life...and
some were almost certainly regretting a boast or a bet made after 'one or two beers' in the café.
As
the field thinned out again and the gaps between the stragglers got
longer my attention began to fade and my thoughts
drifted..................
…......
back to London when I was about 18. It's difficult to believe now
but joggers had not yet been invented! Just about anybody doing any
running was a member of an athletics club, all events were run by the
Athletics Association and one had to be a member to take part. There
were few opportunities for all-rounders or recreational runners to
participate in events. One possibility was 'business house'
competitions where teams from the police, fire brigade, civil
servants and some companies competed on the road and cross-country.
It will, I think, surprise you to know that I was a member of the
City of London Police team, an elite corps selected, among other
things, for their representative appearance and height. I had long
hair, a beard and was at least 10 cm too short. Later the
local council where I worked formed its own team, yes, another
surprise, once upon a time I did had a proper job! We entered
several events organised by local athletic clubs , mostly
cross-country and road relays which were popular at the time, maybe
they still are. It was during one of these races that I experienced
crossing the finishing line to the applause of the crowd...
well..okay it was a mistake I was almost a whole lap behind the
actual winner who appeared a few seconds later!!!....... We were the
only business team taking part and despite achieving, looking back,
quite impressive times we were often so far behind the 'real' athletes that
just about the only thing left when we got to the finish was the
line!
The
back markers, all shapes, sizes and ages were still straggling
doggedly past us. Brave, determined, foolish, unprepared or unlucky
many of them were suffering – and they still had 5km to go! These
were the ones that really needed encouragement. Most of the
spectators were beginning to lose interest and drift away. The rest
cheered them on. A brief smile or a wave from the runners as they
gratefully forgot their aching legs for a few meters before
continuing their weary way for at least another half hour!!
Remembering those lonely runs at the back of the field I felt a little
guilty that we didn't wait for the very last participants but you
know what? - standing on a windy bridge for more than 2½ hours with
no beer in sight, that's tough too... and anyway it had started to rain again.
