January 2009

[Sweder]

Recovery run? Well, more a sort of analytical saunter through sodden mud and rain-lashed hills; a post-Sunday MOT if you will. Knees seem OK, legs generally tired and laced with lactic, otherwise as expected. My lower back has started to kick off though - not sure what that's about. I was involved in some manual labour yesterday, passing an endless stream of box-files into the loft at work (archiving 2001/ 2002 event files - yes, it's as glamorous as it sounds). It was unusual work so perhaps that's the cause.

I had time to reflect on several things.
Sunday's run was interesting. I'm not planning another long run before Almeria, preferring to keep any 21k powder I have left dry. And yet . . . that last outing was less than satisfactory. I guess you can't always finish on a high note. This time I'll settle for a local Sunday jaunt with the dogs, perhaps 8 miles, maybe only 5. Less, I must remind myself, is more.

Then there's this inauguration thungumy-bob this afternoon. I was elated when Obama was elected US President. It showed that anything is still possible in life, that there is hope for mankind, blah blah blah. That euphoria has been eroded slightly over the past few days, the endless stream of hysterical African-American vox-pops flooding our radios and TVs. If I hear the phrase 'from the oppression of slavery to the White House' one more time I think I'll puke. No doubt there'’s validity in the sentiment but please, let's give the guy a chance. I have visions of every black person in American who gets pulled over in the next few weeks smiling at the cop and saying 'go ahead, we got our boy in the big house now'.

That's not what Obama's about, or, at least, not what he should be about. The expectation levels have exceeded the Katrina/ NOLA flood-line in so many towns and cities. This man, with his carefully chosen staff, has a mountain to climb. If he's going to get out of the foothills he'll need to ditch that heavy backpack of expectation or surely perish in the quagmire of disappointment.

My old pal Hunter S Thompson observed during the Clinton campaign that the great and the good in the GOP had turned their snouts to the economic and political winds and caught the foul stench of failure on the breeze. He hypothesised that they shoved Ross Perot into the fray to torpedo Bush Senior below the waterline and so scupper the chances of Republican success, avoiding the forecast national and global nightmares. Of course it back-fired. The Great Philanderer made a pretty good fist of things, humanising the post, even if at times in somewhat less than auspicious ways. He did enough to ensure a gravy-train legacy of international delegate positions and the veritable gold-mine of the after-dinner circuit.

Some believe the McCain/ Palin ticket was similarly, deliberately, doomed. They were fall-guys, paving the way for future Republican dynasties, leaving Obama and his Democrats to push Bush's broken legacy around like the pieces of an impossible jigsaw. The odds are stacked against him. I for one wish him all good fortune in his endeavours, not least in dodging some of the bullets, real and metaphorical, likely to come his way in the weeks and months ahead.

It's a proud day for Americans everywhere, for people of all colours and social backgrounds. The election of Barack Obama shows us many things about America: that it is still a place where people can aspire to fulfil their dreams, can look beyond boundaries and reach for the stars. But also that it's a place run by and for big business, where cash is king and your best running-mate is and always will be the almighty Greenback.

Good luck Barack old son; you're going to need it.