At last, the great day had arrived. The Queen’s Golden Jubilee… And what better way of celebrating this display of old monarchs than by running as fast as possible away from the TV?
Next week, four and a half months of training for the Chicago marathon starts. The plan had been to get at least 3 or 4 weeks of preliminary loosening-up under my belt before the serious stuff began, but after some deliberation, I chose the beer and donuts option instead. I’ve had seven weeks of shore leave since the London Marathon, mostly filled with calories and alcohol and lethargy, and it’s been completely splendid.
Seven weeks? Seems longer than that since I’ve been unable to find my socks and heart rate monitor strap. The socks resurfaced eventually but I gave up on the HRM: overkill for today.
It was strange to be back in running gear again. Mixed emotions. Familiar and comfortable on one level. Daunting on another. Weather warm but not sunny – good running conditions. I set off walking, tentative. No idea what to expect. Well, perhaps that isn’t true. I was expecting to struggle and flap about breathlessly like a landed fish. My pessimism had me setting my stopwatch to signal 10 minute spells as I thought I should aim for alternating 10 of walking with 10 of running. But I got bored trying to walk for the first 10 minutes, so at the 5 minute mark I took a deep breath – in both senses – and burst… into an explosive jog. I giggled a bit. For a moment running seemed weird and unnatural, though surprisingly pleasant. I could feel the blood pouring through my legs again, uncoiling them, unwrapping them. It was like the sensation of finally being able to stretch your legs after sitting in a cramped position for hours. Lovely. The plan was to run for a total of thirty minutes.
I headed out along the canal, past a grinning lady polishing the brass rails on her barge. She shouted good morning. The grin was cheerful, not derisive – I think. Further along, I passed the lake where a shoal of anglers were mustering for a day’s fishing, and then nothing more. Just the tranquility and silence of the canal.
The ten minute mark came and went. I kept running. After 17 minutes I stopped and turned back, arriving back at my starting point just on 35 minutes. I was pleased. Thirty five minutes without stopping was better than I could have hoped at this stage. It was just a gentle jog but surprisingly and hearteningly easy. A good sign.
We have two days off work to celebrate the Jubilee, and this was as good a way as any. The only dampener was all the negative stuff I’ve been reading about England’s draw with Sweden in the World Cup on Sunday. It wasn’t the result or the performance that irked me, but the irrational reaction to it. Have England ever started a tournament well? Despite reminding as many people as I could that England were unlikely to win, but that we shouldn’t panic, the nation is in a state of collective distress. Silly buggers.
