“All the people. So many people.”
– Blur
Having attempted to start running recently, I’ve noticed that people get up to all sorts of strange things in parks.
There are runners and cyclists, Dads throwing sticks into the trees to knock down conkers for the kids, and then there’s the man – god bless him – who walks around with his All About Trees book while naming them out loud.
People visit parks all year round, but there’s something about this time of year that inspires people to enjoy the great outdoors one last time before the temperature falls below zero, like the last mad dash to the supermarket (if the supermarket was shut all winter.)
I was not immune, so I put on my running shoes and went out to join the all those outdoorsy people doing outdoorsy things. Twenty minutes in, I decided that running is a dangerous drug.
In a recent graduation speech at his old University, Tim Minchin talked about the well-known correlation between depression and exercise, urging angsty philosophy students to run like their lives depended on it. (It’s worth a watch on YouTube.)
Running is all well and good, but once the burning in your legs and lungs begins to subside, that’s when the false feeling of euphoria kicks in. You start thinking maybe you could do this professionally. Marathon runners peak in their thirties don’t they? Your best years are still ahead!
I decided that the first thing I would do when I got home was to ring up everyone in my phonebook and tell them how great they all are. But I quickly abandoned this plan when the endorphins began to run out on the wrong side of Preston Park and I had to limp back home the way I had come.
Parks I like, but my running career is still a long way off.
Blog Life. Brighton 