Run to the hills

My Canadian ex sister in law (complicated much), is a keen marathon runner.

It was her fortieth this year. Her relatives decided that as a special gift they would mock up a copy of Running magazine, but make it all about her and her life.

They asked for pictures and articles.  I do not do pictures very much.  So I sent them an article.

I quite liked it, so I thought I would reproduce it here for you delight and delectation:

In these modern days, where one can buy running shoes filled with air collected from the lungs of super fit, genetically modified leopards; pedometers infused with the sweat of Roger Bannister; and motivationally stimulating under crackers which set on fire if you run below 50kmph, it is easy to forget that running is, in fact, an age old skill.

It is a little known fact that the Nike ‘Swoosh’, was actually first discovered as a recurring motif in the Paleolithic cave paintings at Lascaux, in South Western France.  Archaeologists believe it was a primitive image used to denote success in the hunt.  It is most often found in the paintings as a way of illustrating victorious hunters outrunning a herd of enraged antelope.

A modern parallel to this ancient ‘swoosh’, can be traced in the ‘thumbs aloft’ gesture contemporary society has developed to indicate that ‘all is well’.  Sir Paul McCartney, founder member of The Beatles, and all round vegetarian rock ‘n’ roll royalty, has long been a supporter of the ‘thumbs aloft’ gesture, despite its fall from grace in recent years, thanks to its re-classification as a symbol of good natured idiocy.  Sir Paul has actually managed to trace his ancestry back as far as the Paleolithic period, and believes his aversion to meat is probably due to a deeply supressed tribal memory of being savaged by an antelope during a hunt that went sadly awry.  His recent divorce from one legged wife and all round lunatic, Heather Mills, in favour of a two legged girlfriend, points to the fact that he may be trying to reinvigorate his latent running genes before he totters to the grave.

This just goes to show us that even without the power of reinforced Lycra sports bras, people have been running for thousands of years: mostly away from things with really pointy teeth and claws.  Our cave dwelling ancestors were fairly quick to learn that if you hadn’t managed to kill the sabre tooth tiger on the first attempt, vacating the immediate vicinity with alacrity after you had wounded one to the point of madness with your sharpened stick, was a wise move.  The word; ‘Neanderthal’, actually translates as ‘Bloody Hell! He can shift.’

The value our ancestors placed on the need for speed as a way of ensuring the continuation of the human race, is one of the earliest examples of the truth in the term ‘survival of the fittest,’ coined by Charles Darwin, who was himself a keen, amateur runner.  The captain of Darwin’s ship, ‘The Beagle’, which took him on his all-important voyages of discovery to the Galapagos Islands, notes in the ship’s log:

18^th June 1834

Good prevailing wind. We are travelling at a rate of about 15 knots. We should see land in the next two days. What all this fuss is about some over sized tortoises, I cannot imagine.  Mr. Darwin could have gone to London Zoo like everybody else.  It would have been a great deal cheaper. It’s only one and six for a ticket in the week. Still, it’s not my money.  Wilkins has scurvy again. It is a cruel irony that he is allergic to limes.  I told him he should have taken up that career in the post office, but he would go to sea.  I had to intervene in an altercation between Mr. Darwin and the Bosun this morning.  Mr. Darwin will insist on running around the deck clad only in his combinations after breakfast.  He says it does him the power of good.  This morning he was so intent on beating his best time, that he accidentally trod on, and killed, the Bosun’s prize winning weevil.  A shame, for I had half a crown on him to win in the Ship’s Biscuit Cup. R.I.P. Dinky.

It is believed that the derogatory term ‘jog on’, used to denote utter contempt for the doings of one’s fellow man, was also coined on this voyage.  It is perhaps unsurprising, given that it was used by the sailors to scorn Mr. Darwin and his activities, that it did not reach the same heights of literary glory as ‘survival of the fittest’, and was banished from his seminal work; ‘The Origin of the Species,’ instead becoming part of the rich idiomatic speech of sailors and their ilk.  It may also go some way to explaining the derision with which most serious runners treat those who merely jog.

Once the human race had embraced the agrarian revolution, and things with very sharp teeth and a nippy turn of speed had mostly been either eaten or banished to foreign parts, where they were free to snack on whichever half witted native couldn’t move out of the way fast enough without causing anyone to lose too much sleep over it, the story of running took a different turn.  The art of competitive running was born.

It was now the fashion to run towards something, usually something cup shaped, or glittery with a ribbon round it, rather than away from something with fur and a hearty appetite.

The most famous of these competitive running events is the Marathon, a gruelling endurance race of just over 26 miles in length, which traditionally involves thousands of people running around the streets, in already ridiculously congested cities on busy shopping days, and which causes hours of grid lock and general aggravation to the general public just going about their business.

The purpose of the Marathon is two fold: firstly to raise considerable sums of money for charity, and the second, and less well advertised reason is its function as a way of winnowing the gene pool for future generations.  The high profile nature of the Marathon, and the lure of television exposure, ensures that it is always well populated by lard arsed ne’er do wells whose only previous experience of running has been into the kitchen from the comfort of the arm chair to turn off the deep fat fryer before it sets off the smoke alarms.

Despite this singular lack of fitness, these people invariably have a deluded faith in their own athleticism, which leads them to sign up for the longest race in history, labouring under the mistaken belief that it will; ‘be a good laugh’.  The fact that they were always the people whose mothers sent notes to school on cross country day to explain that; ‘Tracy cannot do cross country today because she has; a) her period, b) asthma, c) one leg shorter than the other, which will only make her run in circles, and d) is allergic to nylon next to her skin’, is always conveniently forgotten on these occasions.

It is also interesting to note, that it is always these sorts of people who think that the race will be made much more palatable if they run it dressed as a giant, furry rabbit, or a nun.  They scorn those trained athletes running in their ‘boring’ ergonomically designed vest and shorts.  Any old fool can do that.  The skill of the serious Marathon runner can only be truly appreciated when accompanied by a crinoline and a pair of flip flops.  That is real endurance.

Statistics gathered by the trustees of the London Marathon show that in the last twenty-five years the three most common causes of death in amateur Marathon runners is:

1. Third degree burns brought about by excessive chafing, aggravated by the use of fun fur.
2. Comedy wig slippage, leading to temporary blindness and unfortunate altercations with motor vehicles.
3. Public stoning due to inappropriate costume use (Nazis and Popes being the two most offensive outfits).

Proponents of the continued use of costumes in Marathon running, despite the high mortality rate, argue that Pheidippides, the original runner of the Marathon in 490 B.C., actually ran the twenty six miles from Marathon to Athens dressed as a stuffed olive, to escape detection by enemy forces, and that any attempt to deny people the right to dress as hot dogs and members of the clergy, is disrespectful to the spirit of Marathon running through the ages.  Hence its continued use.

From this short history, it can be seen that running is in our blood.  It will perhaps go some way to explain why we are called the human race, although the chronically high levels of morbid obesity in modern man suggests that we may wish to think about renaming ourselves the human nice sit down and a cup of tea.

In the meantime some of us continue to run.  We run for buses, we run for pleasure, we keep running away from bears and mad axe murderers.  We run with increasing sophistication and an ease with which our sweaty and grunting forebears can only look on with envy.  We run into the future with optimism, a sense of wonder, and increasingly sturdy undergarments.  Who knows what we will find there?