There are some questions that no decent person should ever have to ask, such as: How can you surreptitiously pee in public without missing a beat? What bits of your body should Vaseline be smeared on? And is it ever socially acceptable to wear singlets made from artificial fibres?
But these questions have lain as heavily on my mind as a sumo wrestler sitting on a chocolate eclair. Why? Well, I’ve joined the exercise fascists, charidee fundraising addicts, closet masochists, Bernie Clifton wannabes, footwear fetishists, born-again medieval flagellants and the generally deluded who make up the blister-footed ranks of marathon runners.
And, as I’ve discovered, whenever a marathon veteran and a foolish running virgin meet the conversation quickly turns to Vaseline, missing toenails and high-speed urination. Or maybe it’s just me.
Just over a week ago, 30 readers of this newspaper, four Times staffers and some sporty bloke called Matthew Pinsent descended on the Millennium Arena in Battersea Park. All were volunteers for The Times Flora pro.activ team that will be running the London Marathon on April 23 and this was the first of three training sessions.
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This cross-section of humanity — a mix of barristers, gardeners, novelists, university profs, City traders, coppers and the like — looked alarmingly fit, keen and not obviously deranged. (Alas, there was no human blob of whom we could say come April 23: “Fat Bob pegged it near Tower Bridge. His last words were, ‘Bugger, I knew I should’ve skipped the black pudding this morning’. By the way, what was your time?”)
Now, I say “not obviously deranged” in the way that the talented Mr Ripley was “not obviously deranged”. Patricia Highsmith’s character was a perfectly charming, polished individual; his only real defect, which he managed to conceal, was a criminal mind and a propensity to murder. So despite the misleading outward signs of normality of my fellow runners there is something cracked about anyone who wants to jolt their knees for 26 miles or pant for four or five hours.
I confess that I’ve become interesting to psychiatrists. Or to be more accurate, deeply boring to everyone except other runners. I’ve become a little bit of an anorak.
In early December, my then personal trainer (when did I become a yuppie?) suggested that I might start running to work to get fit. Within a fortnight, running mania had consumed me: a two-mile jog became four, four jumped to six, six doubled to a dozen, half-an-hour non-stop running morphed into an hour, and so on. My stamina has certainly increased: half-an-hour monologuing about running has easily become an hour. Friends politely ask me how my training is going? And I tell them. At length. With graphs. And with an autistic attention to detail.
Let me count the ways that my new obsession manifests itself. Happy hours have been wasted with rulers and maps trying to work out distances of runs; I’m examining my legs for signs of perky little muscles; I’ve proudly showed fresh sweat stains on my hoodie to my partner; I’ve discussed with other enthusiasts what is the best music to run to (Bruce Springsteen, apparently. Perhaps joggers account for his sales; certainly music lovers can’t be buying his tosh). And right now, becalmed by a dodgy hip and ripped calf muscle, I’m banging on about physios, shockpads and the amazing fact that my left leg is 2cm shorter than my right.
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The thing that has surprised me most is how addictive it becomes. Last year, I was a fry-up gorging, ciggie-smoking, sport-despising slob; now I’m reading books about nutrition, doing stretching exercises, claiming to be a close personal friend of Matthew Pinsent (well, I’m well acquainted with the back of his head as I trail behind him) and looking forward to getting out and pounding the streets. It’s not right.
Oh. And the answers to the opening questions. a) The pros throw water all down their front to disguise the effects of a quick widdle; b) nipples and top of the legs where your shorts might rub, anywhere else and your peers will wonder whether you are a Lib Dem leadership contender; and c) Never. One should never take marathon running that seriously.
How is training going for The Times team? Blogs and lots more at www.timesonline.co.uk/marathon
Fit and Hearty
As well as wanting to raise money for the Stroke Association, many of The Times team wish to improve their heart health. Coronary heart disease (CHD) is the single biggest killer in the UK.
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Risk factors for CHD include raised blood pressure and cholesterol levels. The Blood Pressure Assocation recommends that adults should have their blood pressure checked at least once every five years but preferably more often. Cholesterol levels should also be monitored regularly.
There are preventative steps that can be taken to reduce the risk of CHD — these include taking regular exercise, reducing your saturated fat and salt intake, ensuring that you have at least five portions of fruit and vegetables a day, giving up smoking and cutting back on excess drinking.
www.floraproactiv.co.uk
www.bpassoc.org.uk