THE BEGINNING - PART ONE

So, after wasting a small portion of my life slumped on the sofa, watching a succession of men trying to beat the shit out of each other (professional boxing, not an ITV expose into the binge drinking culture in Britain's provinces) I slumped myself into a hot bath and, as I lay there, drifting off, imagining moments of great accomplishment, that I was, no doubt, soon to enjoy, I had an 'Eureka' moment (quite different from an Ulrika moment - I have never had one of those in the bath).  "Eureka" I cried, as I leapt out the bath...as this is a running blog, I shall write about running.  I am amazed that I had not thought of this earlier.

So filled with enthusiasm and excitement, I eased myself back in the bath and laid there for a further hour, then transferred myself back to the sofa to watch the Superbowl (and watch my little flutter flitter away).  But at least today I know what to write about.

So, where to begin?  The title of this entry kind of gives it way, but the obvious place to begin, is the beginning.

It is a question that always makes me smile (I am a simple sort): "When did you start running?".  Most people will answer "a year ago" or "five years ago" &c. &c. whilst of course missing the true answer, that they started running when they were a toddler.  And continued throughout infancy; and during any sport they played at school and beyond; and even for the bus/ice cream van/last orders (delete where applicable). There will, of course, be exceptions, but on the whole we have been running for longer than we give ourselves credit for.

This may in part explain why some people's progress seems to be accelerated compered to others.  How annoying is it to speak to the person who has just pipped you across the finish line of a race only for them to say "O, I have only been running for a couple of weeks" and you are there thinking "Fuck off! It has taken me two years to get to this level of ability".  Of course, what they may be neglecting to tell you is that  they have been playing football - or some other such sport - three times a week, for the past ten years, which, of course, involves a fair bit of running (unless you are a stroppy centre forward).

So, I started structured running in the beginning of 2005.  Mrs (NotsoRude) McNude coerced me into applying for the London Marathon with her.  I did not want to - I found running extremely dull; my whole sporting life has involved some sort of side activity to distract my mind away from the fact that I was actually running - but yet, having some idea of the difficulty of getting into the Marathon, I agreed.  I crossed my fingers.  Of course, I got in and she did not.  I was not sure who was the most disappointed.