A discussion about strength at work the other day, a colleague turns to me and says 'of course, you've got runners arms'. For a brief moment, I felt flattered, proud of my lean physique and obvious physical prowess, but then confused by the guffaws of laughter that followed. Then the realisation that much the same as having a good face for radio, runners arms are perhaps not something to be proud of. Runners arms or not, after the horrors of the Meerbrook 'Killer' 15 yesterday morning, I'm left wondering if in fact I have runners legs!
Naturally, I have great legs, my mum keeps telling me, one of those mum facts along with 'don't worry son, you'll fill out soon'. I'm still waiting. But she also adds an element of doubt about my legs. 'You've got legs girls would die for'! What does that mean? Does she mean legs in the same way girls covet a man with a six pack, or
Tom Bakers Captain Rum style, '
Aaaaargh, you have a woman's leg, M'Lord'? Either way, I struggled up those hills. I could blame the heat; it was hot and I did absolutely suffer once across the line. Unpleasant!
But I think it was a lack of preparation. No running since Tuesday and a week that wasn't ideal for the seasons toughest race. Fair enough then! So why did I run it? On paper, there was little to gain from this. Not a flat course, but on road. So, not good for points, no sprinty PB's or scenic trails, just two thumping great hills and Tarmac to look at. But races such as these are like warning signs that spell danger. Caution - Hot Surface. Or Wet Paint. You just have to, don't you?
Plenty of reason not to, but actually none of them valid; you simply need to know if you have it in you. So you turn up, register and you're given the T shirt, on this occasion before we'd actually run. Some rightly felt that was the deal done, suggesting an early bath and an early trip to the pub rather than run the race. But the T shirt said 'I Kept Calm And Climbed On - Meerbrook Survivor'. It's only a T shirt, not like I need another one. But I thought of those words up the hill as my club mates passed, cursing my skinny legs!
