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July - Mission: Lard-loss
Five Steamy Miles - [SIZE="1"]2nd July 2006[/SIZE]
'Another' struggle across the sweltering Downs tonight.
Carrying post-glug bottles of Duvel, Orvel and Leffe I head off with i-Pod and dogs to pay my dues. For details of the physical effort and subsequent unpleasant dripping, see the last run logged in June Bugs.
A year ago today I raced Haile Gebrselassie in the British 10K. It was the day before the dramatic announcement of a glorious British sporting victory – the 2012 Olympic games awarded to London.
My run today was somewhat less salubrious.
My canine companions suffered in the heat, managing the occasional spurt of speed as rabbits frolicked on the late evening, teasing the hounds with their bobbing bunny-girl bottoms. The i-Pod, set to 'shuffle', seemed to be on a mission, hell-bent on forcing me home for an early bath. I chugged up the first climb behind the house waiting for musical inspiration.
First up?
In My Time Of Dying, Led Zeppelin.
In my time of dying, (don't) want nobody to mourn
All I want for you to do is take my body home
They’ll need some vehicle to shift my lardy ass if I peg out on this hill tonight . . .
I plodded on gamely, wheezing like a 60-a-day smoker. I thought of the heart-wrenching anti-smoking ads first seen last year featuring relatives of people serioulsy damaged by The Weed.
I imagined a similar scenario based on runners who've succumbed to the charms of their sofas:
(Cue small girl in dance costume twiddling her fingers looking upset)
‘I really wanted my Dad to be able to see me dance in this competition’ she tells the invasive camera. ‘But he can’t – he’s drunk so much beer watching football on telly he’s still out on his flippin’ run . . .’
Led Zep finished off the track with a rare end-of-song gag. Instead of singing ‘Oh don’t you make it my dyin’ dyin’ dyin’ day’ Plant sings ‘dyin’ dyin’ dyin’ Cough. Synchronicity, good people.
OK, I’m facing the hard part – the start of Wicker Man Hill, and this time I’m going to bloody well run all the way, dripping lard or not. I need something inspirational, up-beat . . .
Tom Petty, Breakdown.
Super.
Blink 182 did their perky best, belting out Another Girl, Another Planet.
I like Blink 182, much to the horror of my 17-year-old son who has ‘outgrown’ such nonsense.
It’s his loss.
Space travel's in my blood
And There ain't nothing I can do about it
Long journeys wear me out
Oh God You know we wont live with out it
Ok, maybe not.
There followed a good dose of back-to-back Girlschool, excellent driving rock n roll – this did the trick and before long I’d rounded the ‘Cap and headed for home.
I can’t say it was pretty or in any way a return to form, but it was a run.
Five steamy miles in fifty-five minutes; the first of a few this week, I hope.
Happy Independence Day for Tuesday everyone.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
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