Full Circle Digital Magazine August 2013 | Page 40

H U M O U R

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GR A N T

C L A R K E

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O N

THE

R UN

On the

RUN
by Grant Clarke
Illustration Joy Rose-Innes

I personally find achieving to be highly overrated and am quite happy to just “be”.

The one down side to being married to an over achiever is that you are often expected to achieve. I personally find achieving to be highly overrated and am quite happy to just “be”. I view this as being a very enlightened stance to take. TLJ says I can hardly call it a stance when I am always sitting on my bum, on the couch, in front of the TV, to be more specific. While TLJ derives genuine pleasure from being a parent to three daughters, keeping the house running smoothly, studying towards a second Masters Degree, ensuring her husband remains a functional human being and keeping unnecessarily fit – I derive genuine pleasure from just being. On top of that it’s a lot less tiring. Of course when worlds collide, as ours do on a regular basis, there are often casualties. More often than not I am the casualty, because TLJ is smarter than me, quicker than me and can undo the child proof latches on the cupboard where we keep the chips. And this pretty much explains how I end up doing all the stuff I really don’t want to do that will, according to someone other than me, make my life full to bursting with excitement and value. As if loading me onto a two wheeled portent of doom and pointing me towards a mountain was not enough, TLJ has now insisted that I start running. As far as I am concerned, running is something that is done solely when something big and hungry is chasing you, or when there is only one beer left in the fridge and you have several thirsty friends visiting. On the other hand, a big plus of running, as opposed to mountain biking, is that I don’t have to wear all that lycra anymore and so I no longer look like the walking “before” advert for that ladies body shaper thing you see on TV. I now get to wear respectable shorts and a T-shirt with almost any slogan I like on it. The down side to running is, of course, that I am

expected to run. Because I cannot be trusted to run alone, I am now a part of TLJ’s running group. Group is a very strong word. There are only 3 of us because nobody else is stupid enough to join. The other participant in our group is some Irish floozy that my wife found wandering around, who clearly has mountain goat in her genealogy somewhere. If ever I was wary about the Irish before and their exotic Irish ways, I am now crystal clear on the subject, I don’t like them.

“In my opinion, nothing quite communicates that your fellow running group hold you in complete disdain while at the same time appear to have a very fragile grasp on sanity, like jogging on the spot.”
Every run starts off the same way. Firstly, in the dark because apparently it’s invigorating to be running at a ridiculous hour of the morning when the rest of civilised society is tucked up warm in bed; and secondly, with TLJ and the mad Irish woman sprinting out of the blocks, leaving me trailing behind trying to figure out how to turn my head torch on, and how to get it to shine on the road in front of me and not into the foliage on the side of the road, where I have no desire to venture. Then by the time I eventually catch up to them they have forgotten about me entirely and are discussing topics of interest to woman only such as art and their idiotic husbands. I have very little to contribute on either of those topics. When they finally realise I am back with them and include me in the conversation, it’s usually just as we hit the first of the insanely steep hills (route chosen by the Irish) littered across our route. At this point, conversation

immediately halts and the mad Irish woman starts bounding off into the distance singing “Danny Boy” with TLJ not far behind, with me at the back walking and feigning a head torch malfunction. When I finally make it to the top of the hill, TLJ and the Irish are generally jogging on the spot waiting for me. In my opinion, nothing quite communicates that your fellow running group hold you in complete disdain while at the same time appear to have a very fragile grasp on sanity, like jogging on the spot. There is a reason it’s not an Olympic sport. You look like a tosser doing it and it communicates to the person behind you that they are so slow that you aren’t even going anywhere and you are still in front of them. Round about this point I start becoming monosyllabic because I am sulking and because I am too tired to say much more. I understand F?RF?V?'?F?B??R?2?WB??F?Rg&W6??"?BW?W&6?6??rv???RWfW'???RV?6R?26?VW?BF?B'?F???rF??2vR&RvWGF??r?V?????F?R????VG2?WBF?W&R?????B?2?b?N( ?26?f?F7F?2v??&RvRF?R?????W2?WBF???r?C?v??&V?( ?BF?R7G&VWG26?VBv?F???R??FVB??F?f?GV?3?w&?FVB?WfW'???r?Bv??vR'V???F???F?W"'V??W"?"Gv??WBF?W&R??F?Rv????'WBF?W??v?2?????FB?B6?F???w2??R( ?F??bF?R??&???rF??( ??B( ???F?R?V6??bF?R?&?6?&Rv?F??( ??g&????????B6??f??6VBF?BF?Rv???R?&??2??f7Bv??Bf?"??RB???'?F?RF??RvR&RF??R'V????r?6W'F???F??( ?BfVV?( ???R?????WW&?>( ????"F??fVV?&VG?F?F?R??F?RF????f7B??F?????7V?B??&RF??R??F?R6?V6?gFW"'V?F???WfW"F?B&Vf?&R??fVV???R??VVB6??V??RF?&??Rf?"F??27FFR?bff?'2??( ???v?fR?B6??RF??Vv?B?BvWB&6?F???Rv?F?7V?&?B??F??fR6??R&V???'??FV2??F?R?GFW"?eT??4?$4?RD?t?D??t???RTuU5B#0??