Allow me a moment to moan…
I always thought it would be good to join a running club. But was that getting a little too serious?
Having gone along for my first taster session (7.30pm, raining hard), I was encouraged to find myself setting off with the second fastest group. One mile in, our group leader James falls back to chat…
“So Mike, I hear you’re running the London marathon?” he says in a voice that sounds like it’s coming from a living-room sofa. Now call me human, but I’m not very good at running hard and chatting at the same time.
Two miles later, James falls back again. “If you just want to drop back and join the next group behind that’s fine.” I grunt my agreement, squaring up in my head that the ski holiday last week has taken its toll. But the group behind is led by a 60-something old man and as I look to see the way he struggles to lift each leg, I am staggered to realise I’m running at the same speed as him. He overtakes me. I up my speed and nudge past him again. But oh no… he wants to chat!!
Thankfully by Mile 5 he’s taken the short route back to the “club house” leaving me with a few more respectable peers. But they too like a chat. Thankfully there are two of them so I leave them to it, just dropping in the odd comment to suggest I’m not totally mute.
One mile to go and I’m feeling the strain. One of them falls back. “Mike, is it alright if we pull ahead for this last bit? You know, get the old heart rate up a bit!”
That was surely the last straw… but I’m not done just yet! Next week is beer night after the run, when I can really find out what these freaks are drinking.