Running in shiny trousers

I have been running a lot lately.

Or training, as I like to think of it.

I've noticed since I started that there is a definite sense of community amongst runners, as though we are all part of an unspoken club, a chosen minority of human beings born with added virtue and accompanying smugness.

But there is a hierarchy within this club. 

It starts at the bottom with those who are most obviously novices. They wear hilariously unsuitable clothing and carry silly objects such as large water bottles or cd players, flailing about with their arms thrashing wildly as they try not to fall over their own feet.

Then at the other end of the spectrum you find the runners who mean serious business.

These men and women have iPods strapped to their arms, and very tight shiny trousers meaning they have made the decision to swap their dignity for extra aerodynamics, which I personally find to be a laudable life-choice.

There is also an etiquette to running in public places.

For instance you must never make eye contact with another runner who passes you. 

Ever. 

It shows weakness and a lack of concentration. 

And overtaking can be awkward, especially when you find yourself confronted by a walking civilian.

Not long ago I turned out of my house to begin a short warmup before running properly. I realised immediately that I had manoeuvred straight into the path of a young lady walking up this fairly steep hill. For a few disastrous seconds I was jogging alongside her as she walked, and it became clear we were travelling at the same speed.

This was obviously unacceptable so I put on a burst of power to gain some distance between us.

Unfortunately the hill was spread out ahead, becoming steeper and steeper, and in order for her not to catch me up again and complete my humiliation, I had no choice but to continue at the same speed, which had accidentally become something of a sprint. 

So up I went, for a good 90 seconds, until fairly sure I was out of sight at which point I threw up into a bush and called a taxi home. 

That was one of my shorter runs, but I'm gaining in strength and confidence now.

I have always heard that after exercise one feels far more energetic for the rest of the day.
I have not found this to be the case.
No matter what time I run I feel exhausted until bedtime, and often find it's the most I can do to stay partially awake whilst lying on the couch with a cold flannel on my head.
At such times I am thankful that my daughter is now of an age (4) where she can be sponsored to go and fetch things from other rooms, which helps me to avoid any excess movement. A single jelly baby will buy you a favour ranging from passing the remote to fixing you an iced drink, although the latter often ends in tears and a clear up more painful than the initial task would have been had I done it myself.

I am trying to be less sedentary though, and to make more sensible life choices.
Having years ago found that coffe made me anxious, I started drinking decaf. But this, it turns out, still makes me anxious. So I switched to hot chocolate, as I decided it was surely better to be fat than to be anxious.
Missing the taste of the old decaf espresso, and now addicted to the sugar rush of the Starbucks chocolate syrup, I have now opted to be both fat and anxious by selecting the Mocha as my daily drink.

In any case, I try.  In certain senses I even enjoy my efforts to reverse the ageing process.
However I shall be holding off on the inevitable shiny trouser purchase for a little while longer. 

Malmo Festival and Olympics

Guy Johnston prepares for The Swan

Last weekend was the 2nd Malmo International String Festival, held this year in Malmo again due to the restrictive nature of the title we chose.

And what a lovely weekend it was.

The weather was magnificent, which led to a new creation which was born immediately after the last concert finished:
The Malmo Olympics.

Focusing mainly on 100 metre sprints and relays, the Games took place on the running track which sits invitingly next to the Malmo Academy, and I am pleased to report they were incredibly exciting.
There was everything a great Olympic competition requires: brilliance, ineptness, injury and, in at least one case, an athlete throwing up in the taxi home due to over-exertion.

The results were conclusive, and embarrassing.
Meghan Cassidy from the Solstice Quartet took the gold in the 100 metres, beating all the boys and performing a dive over the finish line that was nothing short of perplexing since she was already massively in the lead, and it resulted in a serious loss of blood.

But the relay race was by all accounts a thriller.
Ashley Wass, usually so adept with his fingers, fumbled the baton when I passed it to him costing our team dearly. We still might have won had he not then become distracted after around 70 metres, veering off course to kick a football.

In any case, next year this addition to the festival is a certain fixture and I'm already selling tickets.

The concerts?
Yes. They were nice too.
The magnificent Paladium was a pleasure to play in, and the audiences thoroughly appreciative of our efforts.

Callum Smart played a blinding recital which everyone is still talking about, even if mostly in hushed, jealous tones due to his being only 15 years old and better than it is polite to be at that age. (We didn't invite him to the Olympics as that would have been too much to bear.)

Guy Johnston spending half a day rehearsing, travelling and getting dressed in full concert gear for a 3 minute performance of the Swan was another highlight, and I for one found that hilarious.

Memories which will live long in my mind, thanks to all who made it possible.

Sparkly Elephants

I just came home from Izmir, Turkey, which is always a lively place to spend time.
My hotel was in the middle of a mountain, with sheep and everything, so I was compelled to walk as far up it as I could in order to get closer to the sheep, but my phone rang and I needed better reception so I had to put my ambitious plans on hold.
Such friendly people there. I got to know a chap who referees camel fights for instance. You might think I'd have little in common with such a person, but we got on like a house on fire- despite his not speaking any English and my Turkish sounding more like made up Japanese than an actual language.
I had a fabulous meal last night too- six courses, all of them fish.
I really do like the place hugely, the scenery is completely spectacular and there was a shiny sparkly elephant in my hotel lobby. Next to a full size replica of a horse with a lampshade on its head.
And they love music- the audience at last night's concert was so attentive and warm, with crowds of well-wishers afterwards which always makes a musician happy.
I wish every trip offered so much that I don't see every day.