Sponsored run euphoria
Tuesday August 17, 2010
I was never a sporty child at school. Anything involving tracksuits and boys meant I was the first in line with the sick note.
If there was an alternative (like a sudden interest in sewing) I took it. So it was with surprise that I found myself sandwiched between a pink adult fairy with trainers and a row of male spectators last weekend.
It was the 5k run. I had signed up, learned to jog, and here I was battling it out on a stretch of tarmac in aid of cancer research and the memory of my aunt Judith.
Somewhere in a park near you, or a road down your way, you will have seen us this summer: fat and thin, ageing or young, the sprinting fitness fanatic or the pottering relaxed type; a group of 12,000 women or more, head to toe in pink.
So with sports on the mind, I felt inspired to sign up my three-year-old for a week of football in Ravenscourt Park. With his Ben10 bottle and backpack filled with essentials for the hour (flapjack and toy ratty), we set off.
Despite the best efforts of the coaches, who had the kids scooting around cones, dribbling and even shooting, it wasn’t the most cohesive football side.
Two renegade boys had other ideas about cone usage (hats) and one girl dropped out with fatigue.
What I wasn’t expecting to observe was the behavioural differences between boys and girls so young.
When queueing to take turns, the boys naturally bunched up at the front of the group. The girls held back, seemingly unconcerned that they were now last in line.
We parents gave each other knowing looks. Is this how it all starts? Now, I know a bit of running won’t banish my own less-than-perfect memories of the PE department, but it is a start.
My advice to the novice with kids planning a similar run? Be comforted. When you throw yourself over the finish line and realise there is no one there to greet you, don’t be dismayed.
As you sit alone, sweaty and weak, nursing your free snack bar, wondering if anyone cares, don’t despair.
When you spy that familiar buggy weaving though the crowds towards you
(even with one child asleep and the other more interested in the local ducks), something strange happens.
A euphoria-induced madness descends and, before you know it, the brain swivels forwards and starts planning for the next sponsored run.
