Friday 30/09/11

Running has got serious – serious like a disease that may very well kill me. In the last few months I’ve been training hard, done a few 10k races and a couple of half-marathons. I’ve even got myself a place in next year’s London Marathon. I feel great – I’ve somehow come through 3 months of exercise without injuries or illnesses – though occasionally exhausted. I stand at work’s coffee machine, like the Cat asking for fish in Red Dwarf, and don’t leave until I have filled my mug to the brim with espresso.

The caffeine comedown annoyingly coincides with my run after work. I’ll get in, fill the iPod and run a few miles while getting odd looks from the public because I’m laughing to a Frank Skinner podcast or I’m being admired for my mental strength. Not that I’m at all inspirational, just because I’m the only person in the UK who isn’t ashamed to wear an Arsenal shirt in public anymore. Even the players aren’t that fussed.

We’re at a point in history where more people have done the London Marathon than those who haven’t, so the fact my first will be in 2012 makes me look like a Johnny-come-lately who’s hopping on the bandwagon. That’s not strictly true, as I’ve applied to run it every year since 2007 and never got through the entry ballot. This year I also failed to get through the ballot (which may be a sign from God that I really shouldn’t be doing it) but determined as I am, I got a charity place. This means I can run the marathon so long as I raise lots of money for a charity before it. It goes against everything I believe in (that running should never be treated as a life-affirming community-spirited challenge but merely something to keep nutcases fit) however I’m so keen to do the run that it feels a worthwhile sacrifice of my retarded principles.

Also acting on my principles, I figured recently that, having seen a fair amount of stuff about it, I’d give veganism a try. In many ways it’s more logical than vegetarianism, particularly given how intertwined the meat and dairy industries are. The tricky bit involves incorporating it into a running schedule.

Like so many of my plans, I failed within minutes when, out for an early evening jog by the river, I unwittingly consumed dozens of flies, creatures I consider of equal value as humans, as I breathed in. This isn’t good for my asthma or my attitude of moral superiority. I may as well have eaten a live cow.