Colm O'Regan: Maybe Joan Rivers was wrong about runners
Image Entertainment Generic Vickie Maye Stock ie 27/03/2023 Fun Tv Laughter
You might as well hear it from me. I don’t want you to find out around the town. I’ve been running.
I may be lost to you forever. We’ll be out and the next thing you’ll turn your back and I’ll be deep in conversation with your worst enemy about what runners we wear.
We’ll be comparing injuries. Possibly planning a running trip away. It was bound to happen.
As children get older and time frees up it’s inevitable people drift apart at approximately 10km per hour.
I was hesitant to admit it because I often get up early to do it. And that’s not me. I’m supposed to take the piss out of people who do that.
“The first time I see a jogger smiling, I’ll consider it,” said Joan Rivers.
In movies about adorable schlubs who ‘get the girl’ the smooth-talking chisel-jawed nemesis is a often a super-fit morning runner.
And even if they’re not portrayed negatively, I’ve always thought of early morning running as impossible.
Watching American TV where the characters seem to have a ridiculous amount of time before breakfast.
Enough for a run, an enormous spread of pancakes, waffles, toast and orange juice, bacon (or rather rashers). None of which they eat.
But maybe Joan Rivers was wrong. Maybe the joggers saw Joan Rivers looking at them and said. “Is that Joan Rivers?”, and temporarily stopped smiling.
I did parkrun a few years ago but couldn’t keep up the habit even for a friendly welcoming well-organised run like that. So why now?
Others. There’s four of us in a Whatsapp group who ask each other “Anyone up for a run in the morning?”
And there hasn’t been too many weeks someone hasn’t gone out. It’s also a great way for men to chat.
Absolutely no eye contact and silences can be passed off as getting your breath back.
And with the good mood, I’m so much better able to deal with any shilly-shallying that goes on.
The dawdling child is no longer eating into my precious time on this planet. I’ve had my bowl of Precious Time already this morning.
It’s also great for on holidays. If we’re away somewhere I’ll get up with a rush of enthusiasm for us TO JUST DO SOMETHING early in the morning.
Previously this would have involved dragging family out of bed or rather failing to, then sulking and saying “Well there’s no point in going now.”
But with a run you can go on a little ground-based open-top bus tour and be back high as a kite and full of warm feelings towards your sleeping family.
You meet and salute the other runners. Younger men slightly worrying if you’re ok because you don’t look ok.
Then there are oul lad runners. The definition of hardy. With farmer fitness. I don’t know what age they are. They could be 65 or 130. Ageing like hobbits. Slim as elves.
Where is all of this leading? I cannot rule out a marathon, which is a real U-turn for me.
Many’s the time I’ve drained my glass in the pub, dotted the last of the crisp crumbs onto my finger and announced I read somewhere that doing a marathon shortens your life.
Where will it end? Will I be doing ultra marathons and giving inspiring speeches at corporate gigs about how running to the north pole through Bear Country is a lot like working in Customer Contact Centre (“something something ‘team work’ something”)?
No, you’re grand. I’ll settle for hardy.
