Master J has exhausted himself rolling, dragging, drooling and sucking (you know, I never believed the kids and pets comparison had much credence, but come to think of it…), so I have a moment to myself and I’m going to ignore the state of the place and say hello.
Race recovery has gone remarkably smoothly… I expected to be a stiff-jointed automaton for a few days, walking without knees, but in the event I’ve been all right, which I put down once again to not having pushed my luck. The thing about a half marathon is that it sounds a lot more daunting and impressive than it really is. It sounds disingenuous to say, ‘Oh, it was no big deal,’ but I am giving it to you straight. You should see the range of fitness levels across the field – very few are in what I’d describe as great shape. The important thing is having a realistic grasp of how fit you are, so that you don’t do yourself an injury or place undue stress on your body. Amble along at a comfortable pace and I guarantee most people of average fitness would reach the Finish line. Plenty of people stop and walk for a bit – I didn’t, but I would have in a heartbeat had I felt the need. I don’t wear a heart-rate monitor, but Llew does, and he watched his the entire race. We’re not in it to win it, are we, it’s just a bit of fun, so I think the main thing is rocking up and participating, which a broad spectrum of participants did on Sunday. I certainly wouldn’t advise anyone to follow our race preparation routine, because it was non-existent, but I do want to explode the illusion that it’s a distance that’s beyond all but the keenest, fittest runners, because it’s simply not. Once you’ve seen who turns up and gives it a crack, you’ll undoubtedly rate your own chances a little better – maybe enough to give it a go one day yourself. It’s a worthy goal for anyone who enjoys a trot.
Now, I really have a couple of fiction-related things I must get on with, chief among them reading a Darkling MS and also, one of these days, writing that short story I keep threatening, so I’m going to leave you with my latest feature for the Varuna Alumni News, ‘Young Buds and Late Bloomers: writing stages at different ages’, as well as this excellent article by Malcolm Knox, which made me feel badly caught out, as though he’s been watching the deterioration of my reading skills over my shoulder. It is spot on – I can feel my capacity for concentration coming undone, and the way I read has shifted so drastically in recent times that I feel certain Knox is onto something here, something big, something bad, something I must correct at all costs.
My little buster is awake and grumbling. Easy come, easy go.