Running (wo)man

This morning, I went for my first run in probably 20 years. Please don’t take that to mean that I was a runner 20 years ago – I’m fairly allergic to exercise. And when I say I went for a run, I half shuffled, half jogged around most of our block. But I was inspired by my friend, Cath Jenkin, who started doing something similar a few weeks ago. Do read her article about it here – it’s a worthwhile read.

I’d like to emphasise that I am not a natural athlete, and that’s putting it very politely. I am built for comfort, not for speed. I like to tell people that I have a body of steel, but I keep it bubble-wrapped so it can’t be damaged. I’m also completely unco-ordinated and terminally unfit. So for me to choose to go for a run was a Big Deal.

I laced myself into my lumo running shoes, said a silent prayer to whomever the gods of running might be – Usain Bolt, probably – and set off. I was about halfway when I ran past a man on the street. A man with just one arm. I wheezed and puffed a cheery greeting at him as he pressed the doorbell at one of my neighbours’ houses. He looked at me, deadpan, and tutted. “You’re only going at a three-quarter pace,” he said, not bothering to return my greeting.

My first thought was: “Why does this always happen to me?”

The last time I remember running, was just over 20 years ago when I lived in a flat opposite a school. The school was on a fair-sized block, and so I decided I would try and run around it. On my way, I met a small, lithe woman running effortlessly in the opposite direction. In other words, a woman who was the exact opposite of me.

She ran past me, greeted me, and continued on her way. Or so I thought until moments later when I heard her coming back. She caught up with me and fixed me with a quizzical gaze. More accurately, she fixed my boobs with a quizzical gaze. I’m used to this reaction from men – I have a fairly splendid pair of double dangs, if I may say so – but I don’t usually get this response from women.

Then she looked me in the eye and said: “I don’t know how you run with those. It must be very difficult.” And then she ran off again, leaving me completely flabbergasted and slightly demoralised.

So that’s why I strapped on two industrial-strength bras before I left for this morning’s foray. It’s also why I sometimes think twice about exercising in public. Because the public are damn rude, don’t you think?

How to avoid workouts

This morning I viewed nude photographs of Gary Player and was inspired. Good Lord, that sounds bad – let me explain.

I came across this article on Twitter and compared Player’s 77-year-old body to my 44-year-old one. I did not come out well in the comparison. “I know!” I thought. “I’ll ride my bike to my biokineticist appointment later this morning.”

As I begin to write this blogpost, I’ve already decided I’ll be driving because, truth be told, I’m too lazy. I’m also singularly unathletic, as a former post will attest. However, I have realised that something good can still come of all of this. And so, since I’m a self-proclaimed expert in avoiding exercise, I thought it would be selfish not to share what I’ve learned over the last 44 years.

Here then, is your five-step plan to avoiding a workout:

1. Don’t join a gym. You’d think this was obvious, but I know plenty of people whose gym cards mock them from the pockets of their gym bags, inducing all kinds of guilt. Just be honest with yourself – you’re going to pour money down the drain every month, and you’re never going to go to gym. And on the odd occasion when you do make it there, you’ll be so unfit, you’ll just feel terrible for days afterwards. And you’re paying for this?

2. Always have the wrong shoes. I’m told that the wrong shoes can be very damaging, and as someone with a pretty permanent foot injury, I feel one can’t be too careful. Ensure that you always carry the wrong shoes for whichever activity people are suggesting you try. Golf shoes don’t work on the squash court, for example, and squash shoes aren’t good for dance classes. Make sure you get that right… erm… wrong.

3. Don’t risk training when you’re ill. Obviously if you’ve taken to your bed, exercise is out of the question, but ‘ill’ also means you have a headache, hayfever, insomnia, a cold, a fever blister, a pimple, or worse. Any breakdown in your health, no matter how trivial, is an excuse to miss a workout.

4. Double book yourself. Coffee dates with friend always trump planned workout sessions. Just practise looking contrite and telling your trainer or workout partner this: “I’m so sorry, I doubled booked!” As soon as you’ve delivered your line, preferably over the phone, hightail it to that coffee shop so your latte (skinny, of course) doesn’t get cold.

5. Keep an eye on the weather. Having given up your gym membership (see point 1) you are now forced to exercise outdoors. There’s just no space at home. But frame your excuses carefully; be specific. “I really feel like swimming, but it’s far too cold.” or “I’d go for a ride, but it’s far too windy.” (I used that today.) Or even “This darn rain is messing with my running schedule.” Don’t leave yourself open to alternate suggestions by being too general.

Finally, there will be those naysayers who try to persuade you that exercise is good for you. I have incontrovertible proof that it isn’t. My husband is the team doctor for a professional rugby team — people who are paid to exercise — and they spend half their lives in hospital. Things break, they shatter, they tear, they become inflamed. Exercise is dangerous, people. Avoid it at all costs.

And as for Gary Player? Well, he’s not a real athlete, is he? He’s a golfer, and golf, as someone once told me, is a stroll in the park ruined by a little white ball. I’m always up for a gentle stroll, preferably one that doesn’t involve hills.