31 May 2010

What happens if you spill carpet cleaner?

Route 66: The Zac Efron of the industrial road surface community.

I don't know what it is about pavements that makes them so utterly and soul-destroyingly boring ... well actually I do.

For starters they're grey, aside from being my preferred hue choice for t-shirts and hoodies. There's hardly an abundance of praise waiting in the wings for the illegitimate love child of black and white. Even the word itself is onomatopoeic to tediousness, especially in the throes of my dulcet lancastrian tones. Disregarding the monotony of my vocal skills (that definitely wouldn't pay the bills), our more opulent neighbours France don't seem to fare any better with the equally uninspiring lexeme 'gris'. Neither do the Germans with 'grau', or the home of the linguaggio d'amore and their sub-par 'grigio'. You know all hope is lost if the Italians can't manage to make something sound appealing.

I suppose what I'm trying to imply is that for anyone who endures endless miles of prosaic pathways whilst running, pavement isn't exactly the most awe-inspiring sight to behold whilst bounding along the beat of your running route. On numerous occasions, I have been bear-baited by the pavement's black and double-yellow lined lustrous neighbour: Mr Road. However, my conscience quickly kicks into gear and reminds me that this is a sure-fire way to getting a lift home from a paramedic. Secondly, and most importantly, my choices of underwear when running would hardly class as 'Sunday best' if I were to accidentally get myself into some sort of misadventure.

A much safer option would be to suggest a series of 'alternative' road coverings to councils everywhere, which would guarantee a deluge of runners hitting the streets. All we need to do is rewind back to 1939 and follow the yellow brick road. I don't know about you, but if Nike brought out some ruby red running shoes, and gingham shorts, I could happily imagine I was Dorothy doing a fun-run from Munchkin Country to the Emerald City and I'm sure my running times would be the better for it too.

Alternatively, there could be a road kind of like a hybrid between the giant piano in Big and the Billie-Jean video. How much fun would it be skipping and moonwalking through the streets with a solitary white glove. Progressing from the gently melodic bpm of a sonata-esque warm-up, all the way up to a heart-racing jazzy drum & bass fusion fuelled sprint finish. All the way back down to an ambient and euphoric Ibiza, 15 minute remixed, sunset on the terrace cool-down. All I need now is a Mojito (or Lucozade) and I'd be in a runner's oasis.

I'm well aware that these are the far-fetched missives of a madman, but I'd happily settle for anything, so long as it wasn't grey. Is it too much to ask for a pavement adorned with the hues of a 'First-Dawn Blue', or a 'Raspberry Bellini Red'. Even a 'Melon Sorbet Green' would be welcomed with open arms, I would happily settle for the marginally more motivational beige carpet option instead of grey. But then just as I was beginning to lose every ounce of hope. All of a sudden it hit me, why don't I just stop looking at the pavement beneath my feet? Wouldn't it be infinitely easier to just look around and soak up some of the stirring scenery surrounding me? As Aleksandr the Meerkat would say "Simples".

30 May 2010

"You have no idea what you are getting yourself into ..."

Welcome, or as they say in Germany, Wilkommen!

Firstly I would like to welcome you to my blog. Secondly, as stated in the heading "you have no idea what you are getting yourself into." This is the phrase that has greeted me on numerous occasions upon telling people that I have elected to run 26.2 miles at the 37th Berlin Marathon in September.

However by opting to read my blog, whether by accident or of your own accord, I too could say to you "you have no idea what you are getting yourself into."

As my infinitely tolerant and non-judgemental girlfriend will testify, some of the ponderings that progress from the recesses of my mind all the way to lexical ludicrousness are nonsensical to say the least. So you are most certainly in for a treat.

Well, apart from possessing an Idea Ball Manatee inside my head (for south park aficionados only), I am fast approaching 30 and wanted to test myself before the rapidly approaching onset of middle-age, what better way than running really really far. If you need further reasoning for running a marathon, I will be doing it for a good cause: the super boys & girls at The Stroke Association (www.stroke.org.uk)

I noticed how nobody gets described as 'mild mannered' unless referring to a superheroe's 'mild mannered' alter-ego (Peter Parker, Clark Kent et al), so I thought i'd get a slice of the action, all I need now is a form-fitting lycra ensemble and i'm good to go.

Finally, for any Lostologists out there, I will be running 26 miles on the 26th of September (The 9th month of the year) at the 37th Berlin Marathon. Therefore you can begin hatching your conspiracy theories as to the relevance of the numbers 26, 37 and 9, answers on a post card please.

Hopefully I've managed to charm and entice you into regularly peering through the looking glass into the world of somebody who continuously puts one foot in front of another for fun.