Abubilla Music

Tip of the Day: 10.03.16 Running in Richmond Park, part 2

Written by Jimmy

Part two of this humiliation.    So now, this running is a regular thing; this Sunday in the Park.  And it just gets worse, not better.  And did I tell you I ran a marathon?  Important to remember as this sorry tail concludes…

So, Kathy catches on to this ‘station’ thing, and explains in no uncertain terms that ‘teaming’ on this requires some forward movement on my part (gonna take a long, long run, to get this big old bird to fly).   And I agree, but explain to her that this substantially changes the whole nature of this Sunday run and I bring up Lewie again. No, I was not allowed to use and abuse the animals for personal gain, and yes, we could bring bloody marathon fitness junkie dog, Toby.

Now, we start to experiment.  First, we meet a group of other friends to run on Sunday.  kathy has been running with some of the during the week (fitness Alert, Jimmy, Fitness Alert).  We’ll I didn’t clue into this warning.   ‘They’ve all just started too,’ says Kathy the Evil, and ‘we just walk and run around the park.’  Well, first Georges arrived in shorts and a silly hat.  Looks like Vanilla Ice ready to go jogging.  But he’s doing his lent this, so sugar free, alchohol free and ready to go.  The other two women have fitness clothes on.  I have blue jeans.   EEEEK.  So we’re off.  And i realise this run walk thing is I walk, they run and I see them about a mile ahead and work out angles to catch up as they run a circle and i walk a triangle.  A lot of fun.  Brought me back to bad memories in geometry class.    After clever geometric moves, we end up back at the car at same time.     Kathy asked how I was and did I enjoy it.  I say i never left car park because I was tying my shoe just as they took off.  She believes me, BECAUSE SHE NEVER ACTUALLY NOTICED I WASN’T WITH THEM!  She was too busy chatting at 100 words a minute while running up and down hills around the park.    She actually feels a bit guilty.  Exactly.  Even super fit, psycho, stone lovin’, deer poo rollin’ marathon idiot dog had the decency to notice me in distance and would run back and forth between the Olympians and the abandoned.   

We conclude that maybe we go to a second plan, just the two of us running for a bit together.  No stations, no Vanilla Ice.  Just the two of us.  And new plan is I go out early with fitness dog and get a head start.  Kathy would then catch up, and by running hard enough to catch up would be sufficiently tired to keep my pace.    This is the actual conversation!  How humiliating is that?  We discussed alternatives:  tying her legs together, making her carry weights, or Lewie, or she had to drink two Bloody Mary’s before.  

So I’m off.  Fast walk with dog.  Diet coke in one hand, Pepporami in left pocket, Baby Bells in right pocket.  I secretly think of running just to make it harder for her to catch up.  But realise that would just be harder for me.  So walk.  Get into Park, catch up with friends on a stroll.  Find out my ‘brisk walk’ is same pace as their ‘stroll.’  I don’t tell them I’m fast walking and confess to be strolling.   They are impressed I’m wearing running clothes (decided that MUST be what is holding me back so abandoned jeans and  have sweat pants).  I tell them the plan and open up a baby bell and sip on Diet Coke waiting for Kathy to join my run.  We have a good old talk, these dear friends, who now are the only thing between me and Kathy the Evil who I imagine is gradually coming up from behind like that final scene in Terminator where Arnold just KEPT COMING.    They will surely convince her to do this strolling bit on arrival.  These dear good friends.

And sure enough she arrives.  Panting, fit, happy.  And she says hi to our friends.  And they, betraying all that I hold sacred in the world, say to her, ‘Well, we don’t want to get in the way of your run, so off you go!’  WHAT??? Didn’t I just have a silent pact with you to stroll?   Didn’t i break ‘baby bell’ with you?  Oh, you Satanists.   But know comes the humiliating bit.  The really, really sad bit.  The bit that I replay in my mind now, again and again.  There is no song to be written that can bring this to life.  So Kathy says, ‘Come on then, let’s go.’

And I go.  I start running.  And, I’m not going any faster than the strollers.  And there is this real awkward moment.  They are strolling.  I am running.  And there is no distance growing between us.  We all understand what is happening and what that implies, but no one can say anything.  And finally, after about 40 awkward metres, with Kathy and I running and good friends strolling, four across in the park, like a parade of Horse Guards, they save me.  ‘Okay, that’s it, then, we’ll head on back.  Enjoy your run.’  And they turn around, to leave me ‘ running’ in the park with Kathy the evil.  And we are passed by a nice old couple strolling.  And a man and his children (its Mother’s day so lots of dads with kids in park giving mums a lie in.)  And we’re passed by one old lady walking an older talk in a stroller. She chats with us awhile, then strolls on as we keep running.

And that’s my humiliation.  Tears in my eyes, now, as I write this at 7AM in the morning in NYC, looking out on the Hudson from the 29th Floor of the Westin.  I did go to gym this morning.  And I did tie my shoe while the treadmill was on.  And I did read the Economist.  But going way to fast for FT.

And that’s it.   And that’s why I say ‘It’s all about the Music.’  Because the alternatives are so humiliating.

The stroll-runner from the Big Apple.