RUNNING ON...

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.