"How's things with you? Any goss for me???
Fancy joining me for my next half marathon??!!!"
I lock my work station (much like a train station, this is where I stop, the name strikes me as suddenly apt). I head into the lab to check on my assay, thinking "Why would I want to do a half marathon?".
No colour development. Shit. It's not worked. What have I done wrong? I realise there shouldn't be any colour developed yet, and jovially berate myself for being a spacktard.
I do what needs doing, solve someones Excel related issues. I'm a walking help file apparently, more "user friendly" than a click on a menu.
Back to the work station for a break.
"Why wouldn't I want to do a half marathon?" - hold on. Since when did that question change? Come to think of it why wouldn't I want to do a full marathon?
a) Your hugely un-fit.
b) You smoke, and have done for the past 12 years.
c) You've done no exercise in the past 11 years.
d) You'll probably fail.
e) You've never been able to run a long distance, even at high school 400 meters seems to long to achieve.
Gradually the idea grows. Like once of the cancers I'm working on. A neoplastic lesion, growing slowly, at first un-noticed, then suddenly a bump, casually noticed one day. Slowly getting larger and more obvious.
A friend who plays Rugby for Oxford Uni sends a text the next day. Fancy going to circuits mate?
Fuck it. Why not? - My psychology is changing without my knowledge....
I sit at home. Anxiety building. What the hell is this place going to be like anyway? What can I expect? Everyone I asked says: "it's bollocking hard work mate, but you'll soon get used to it after a couple of sessions".
I get in the car, drag myself there. Still half thinking about formulating an excuse and turning round. I park the car. I don't even know where the hell this place is. Maybe I'll just go. I find it. Shit.
"£3.50 please for non-members", I hand over the money, like I do this all the time.
A girls looks at me. I make eye contact. She's knows I don't belong here. Another bloody tourist. I take a seat and wait for my friend to turn up. Time passes. I can see "things" being set up. Their design gives no clue as to what I should expect to my innocent eyes.
Others come. Regulars. Joking, talking about having just run here, as their car ran out of petrol, they had to run the Petrol station (where the petrol stops...) and back to the car before they got here.
"not far, only about a couple of miles either way" they say. I don't belong here. I'm genuinely knackered running up the stairs at home.
Maybe I'll just go.
Friend arrives. I bravado up. Can't seem like a pussy in front of my mate now can I.
We go through to the hall, awaiting the start. My heart is already pounding from the anxiety. We'll go round in groups of 4 people. Me and 3 Uni level rugby mates. Shit. Gotta keep up though.
A man can change...?
I lock my work station (much like a train station, this is where I stop, the name strikes me as suddenly apt). I head into the lab to check on my assay, thinking "Why would I want to do a half marathon?".
No colour development. Shit. It's not worked. What have I done wrong? I realise there shouldn't be any colour developed yet, and jovially berate myself for being a spacktard.
I do what needs doing, solve someones Excel related issues. I'm a walking help file apparently, more "user friendly" than a click on a menu.
Back to the work station for a break.
"Why wouldn't I want to do a half marathon?" - hold on. Since when did that question change? Come to think of it why wouldn't I want to do a full marathon?
a) Your hugely un-fit.
b) You smoke, and have done for the past 12 years.
c) You've done no exercise in the past 11 years.
d) You'll probably fail.
e) You've never been able to run a long distance, even at high school 400 meters seems to long to achieve.
Gradually the idea grows. Like once of the cancers I'm working on. A neoplastic lesion, growing slowly, at first un-noticed, then suddenly a bump, casually noticed one day. Slowly getting larger and more obvious.
A friend who plays Rugby for Oxford Uni sends a text the next day. Fancy going to circuits mate?
Fuck it. Why not? - My psychology is changing without my knowledge....
I sit at home. Anxiety building. What the hell is this place going to be like anyway? What can I expect? Everyone I asked says: "it's bollocking hard work mate, but you'll soon get used to it after a couple of sessions".
I get in the car, drag myself there. Still half thinking about formulating an excuse and turning round. I park the car. I don't even know where the hell this place is. Maybe I'll just go. I find it. Shit.
"£3.50 please for non-members", I hand over the money, like I do this all the time.
A girls looks at me. I make eye contact. She's knows I don't belong here. Another bloody tourist. I take a seat and wait for my friend to turn up. Time passes. I can see "things" being set up. Their design gives no clue as to what I should expect to my innocent eyes.
Others come. Regulars. Joking, talking about having just run here, as their car ran out of petrol, they had to run the Petrol station (where the petrol stops...) and back to the car before they got here.
"not far, only about a couple of miles either way" they say. I don't belong here. I'm genuinely knackered running up the stairs at home.
Maybe I'll just go.
Friend arrives. I bravado up. Can't seem like a pussy in front of my mate now can I.
We go through to the hall, awaiting the start. My heart is already pounding from the anxiety. We'll go round in groups of 4 people. Me and 3 Uni level rugby mates. Shit. Gotta keep up though.
A man can change...?
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