Running Man

It's the dog days in Saratok after the Chinese New Year and I had to drag myself out for a run this evening. As usual I went to the running track a couple of kilometres out of town where the car park was full.  Several people were walking or running around the track and a football match was in progress in the middle.  I did a slow warm up, nodding every now and then to one of the regulars, then launched myself onto the track for a five kilometre trot, which my GPS watch tells me is just under eleven circuits in the outside lane.

Whenever I begin a run I have this anxiety that my body won't carry me, that this is the day when my old legs just refuse to budge and I stop immediately or fall flat on my face.  It never happens, muscle memory kicks in and the body just goes through the motions.  People seem surprised that I don't get bored, running round and round in circles, but there's a surprising amount of stimulation.  I have my MP3 player, on which I listen to radio podcasts.  This evening it was "Desert Island Discs" featuring Sir Terry Lyons, the strangely unassuming former Chief Exec of Tescos.  I also have my GPS watch, giving me a steady stream of data about my speed, distance covered and heart rate.  Tonight I'm slow, I struggle to cover a kilometre in six minutes thirty seconds, but my heart rate is up at about 120 beats per second.  I think I'm a bit under par and it's also pretty hot and humid and after a few minutes I'm drenched in sweat.

I started late this evening and after twenty minutes the sun has gone down and the football players have left the field and sat down on the grass around the car park for a chat.  I can feel mosquitos brushing my ankles and the swifts are out, swooping around the track eating their fill.  A bit of breeze picks up and it starts to spot with rain, but nothing happens.  I'm tired, but I press on slowly until my GPS tells me I've hit five kilometres, then I stop running and walk to the trackside where I drink some water and have a stretch against a small tree.

Why do I bother?  Perhaps because it makes me feel more alive, this daily test of fitness and stamina.  When you're running you're constantly confronted with the seductive possibility of not running.  All you have to do is tell your body to stop and every second that you keep going is a small victory over something.  It definitely makes one mentally tougher.  The hardest part is setting the goal before you start.  You have to be honest with yourself and decide clearly how far and how fast.  It has to be "five kilometres in under thirty minutes", not "maybe I'll do seven kilometres today", because that type of goal is never achieved.

Running came into my life late and it will be a sad day when I have to let it go.