Like you, I spend a lot of time sitting around in my pants, staring into the terrifying blankness of my own existence and contemplating the pointlessness of everything. To ameliorate the hollowness and despair, I like to self-medicate through existential crises with a potent combination of Doritos, temazepam and a carefully choreographed programme of intense masturbation. Weird thing is, since turning 30, I’m shitting breezeblocks as I increasingly Guantanamo myself with thoughts of my own mortality. It’s like the Woody Allen joke about terrible food: life relentlessly sucks a big donkey’s dick, but you still want more of it.
So I’ve set about trying to prolongue my exposure to all the gaping emptiness that inevitably awaits. I’ve started to exercise. I’ve started to run. It’s my girlfriend’s idea (self-pitying onanism isn’t ‘proper’ exercise, apparently). In many ways, it’s a good idea. I’ll get to enjoy the forthcoming apocalypse from my own portable throne, because my knees will be completely bojangled.
Anyway, I’m quite getting into it. We’re planning a 10k run in the New Year, together, like the sickeningly in-love middle-class Guildford couple we are. I’ve even got a watch that tracks my route with GPS and then gets cross at me for being slower than I was yesterday, encouraging a fierce and unhealthy rivalry with my younger, fitter self. I can currently run 5k in 22 minutes. Whoopee for me.
I was thinking about blogging about running and how I’m progressing but I’m not really sure what there is to say. Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running sounds interesting, but I’m put off by the possibility of wading through another 400 pages of whimsical surrealism where running is probably an extended metaphor for the trials and tribulations faced by overweight talking barnacles. So I’m not going to read that. Instead, I’ll just nick the idea from the title. Here’s a list of some of the things that go through my brain when I’m moving at speeds that make me indiscernible to the human eye…
1) Crikey, these pants are tight. Is everything tucked in? Feels a bit breezy down there.
2) Was he looking at my groin?
3) Is it me or is this hill steeper than yesterday?
4) Lace is undone. Fuck.
5) Legs ache.
6) Better check watch.
7) 1 min 30. Approximately 25 left to go. Fuck.
8) Legs really ache. Can’t…breathe.
9) I could just walk home now. Nobody would ever know.
10) Jade Goody did a marathon without practising. Maybe training for a 10k is overkill? The atmosphere of the occasion will get me through.
11) Jade Goody is dead.
12) Jade Goody didn’t die of running.
13) I’m not sure what the moral of Jade Goody is in this context.
14) Need a wee.
15) Legs hurt.
16) Watch check. 10 minutes 40. Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
17) Fuck the fuck out of my fucking way, dildo dog.
18) “No. No really. No worries. Yes, he’s a lovely dog isn’t he? Ahhhhh. He’s a lovely dog. You’re lovely dog aren’t you? Lovely dog.”
19) Legs hurt. Arms hurt. Feet hurt. Back hurts. Neck hurts. Can’t breathe. Snot. Pouring. Down. Face. Sweaty. Smell. Like. Raccoon’s. Vagina.
20) Hot girl! Hot girl!
21) Did she notice me?
22) Yes.
23) Shit.
24) 5 minutes to go. Step it up.
25) Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
26) Think the pain away. Think the pain away. Think the pain away.
27) Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
28) Did I leave the gas on?
29) What’s the name of that thing where you press your balls against a window to make them look like vacuum-packed chicken?
30) Pancaking?
31) No, that’s something else isn’t it?
32) Was I being offensive at that party last night?
33) Yes.
34) I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.
35) Uh, was that some shit?
36) Yes.
37) Is this over yet?
38) Nearly.
39) Oh, you’ve already stopped.
40) LOSER!
vdofisdpofi! 