I’ve had my number through for the notoriously tough Cliveden 6 mile cross-country on December 28th, and was feeling pretty good about this as I know that the race is now full. But then I read a message from the race director on the Runners World messageboard, in which he consoles those who missed the boat. “Remember”, he said, “That people who don’t get a place are the lucky ones”.
I see.
Running drips with ambivalence — don’t we just love to hate it? And races are a distilled nugget of running. We really love to really hate races. Which is why the race director’s remark first made me grimace, then made me smile. Apparently I’m glad to be reminded that it’s a tough one, and a tough one that comes just after Christmas.
I’ve been having a busy time of it recently. Nothing exciting. Work, work, work. My running hasn’t stopped completely, but I’ve been managing only a couple of jaunts per week since the Brighton 10K. Just enough to avoid seizing up, but not enough to feel that I’m making progress. It’s that ticking-over mode.
I’ve joined the local gym, in yet another attempt to convince myself that yep, this is it. A bit of variety in my training would be welcome, I tell myself. Indeed, a bit of training would be welcome. Let’s grow a few muscles to help avoid a repeat of the great Hamburg collapse. But perhaps the best reason for joining is that it offers a place other than the pub to watch the occasional football match. Yes, I can plod along on the treadmill or the cross-trainer while gazing upwards at those delicate Prem gods, and their complex Weltanschauung.
Is it just me, or do others find watching football to be a profound experience? I’m serious. It’s impossible to watch a game without questioning my ethical standpoint on a number of things. The diving and cheating — which seems less serious when it’s your team doing it. The attempts to hurt people without being found out. The play-acting. The referee and all the calculations he makes as he considers whether, and how, to punish someone. The fans — their irrational evangelism, the complex rituals.
It’s so close to being unbearable to watch, that it becomes totally compelling.
