So you can imagine my shock, my horror, my speechless surprise when I climbed the stairs at Marylebone tube station last week and found that I was too out of breath to even find my Oyster card and make my way through the ticket gates without worried looks from the Transport for London staff. 'You okay miss?' asked one ticket inspector, as I wheezed past him. I had no answer for him, just a weary smile to reassure him, that no, this was not my asthma. It was couch-potato-eating-too-much-cream-at-Christmas-laziness that had led to the complete inability to climb 3 flights of stairs in one go, without a long and lengthy coffee break in between each 5 or so steps.
So something needs to be done. I can't very well keel over from a custard-induced-lack-of-exercise-death at the age of 35, leaving my husband bereft of company in our badly heated flat in London. Hence, I checked the British Army Fitness Guide for what they recommend for the terminally lazy people of this world. Very nicely, the author, Sam Murphy, referred to poor souls like me as 'sedentary' rather than lazy and recommended a 1 month course of different exercises. At the end of the book (and after 9 months) apparently I should be fit enough to try out for the Territorial Army, which may come in handy if there is ever a zombie apocalypse or London is invaded by aliens. My regime for today was:
Run for 1 minute
Walk for 3 minutes
Do the above five times in a row.
Which is harder than it sounds. Remember I am quite unfit. And not exactly confident in skin tight leggings in the streets of London. And...it is freezing! The air entering my lungs is not only moving around faster than it normally would as I am breathing so hard, but it is also freakishly cold because the weather in the UK has suddenly got a lot more wintry in the last four days (apparently our cold spell comes from wind from Russia. Gee thanks Russia!)
Well, I did it and now I feel pretty good. Of course, I need music to run to, simply because I actually find running really boring. If I could read a book and run at the same time I would. Failing that, the ipod makes the experience a bit more cinematic. I can imagine I am famous athlete while listening to Chariots of Fire or I am fleeing an oncoming army hoard of angry and hairy Vikings (The Gladiator Soundtrack). Currently my favourite tune to run to is 'Run, Boy, Run' by Woodkid (as seen in the below video), it does what it says on the tin...gets you running...
I may not enjoy running that much (especially on the concrete of the urban jungle that is London) but I do admire those who do run and simply for the fun of it. In that spirit, I want to share one my favourite poems:
The Song of the Ungirt Runners
We swing ungirded hips,
And lightened are our eyes,
The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
We know not whom we trust
Nor whitherward we fare,
But we run because we must
Through the great wide air.
The waters of the seas
Are troubled as by storm.
The tempest strips the trees
And does not leave them warm.
Does the tearing tempest pause?
Do the tree-tops ask it why?
So we run without a cause
'Neath the big bare sky.
The rain is on our lips,
We do not run for prize.
But the storm the water whips
And the wave howls to the skies.
The winds arise and strike it
And scatter it like sand,
And we run because we like it
Through the broad bright land.
Charles Hamilton Sorley
Unfortunately, although the imagery of this poem is glorious, I will have to be satisfied with my own little song for the moment - the Un-experienced Runner, until I have a pastoral landscape to run through. Or when Wandsworth Common dries out after being so waterlogged by the monumental amount of rain we had this Christmas. Until then, I will run, because I need to, through the uneven concrete slabs of South London's pavements and come home...to some nice warm custard.
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