Sunday 1^st April and I am up at 5.30 (engineering works on the railway get in the way of a more civilised start) getting ready for the Wholefoods Breakfast Run in Kingston which I’m competing in with my BL colleague, Sally.

 The last visit to this event was distinguished by my tripping over near the start, twisting my ankle and then doing the full 16 miles (twice round the course - though I’m only doing one circuit on this occasion) by attempting to run on one leg only, so I know the bit of the kerb I’m going to be avoiding this time round. It’s a fine day and men and women of all shapes and sizes are gathering at the start. I’m a bit cold so instead of running in my flash running gear, I’m wearing some baggy grey tracksuit bottoms that have seen better days. It’s a bit infra dig but after years of running I’ve got over doing the fashionable thing. Everyone else looks hot though: elaborate pony tails, snazzy socks and fake tan are in evidence. And that’s only the men. The other thing is, it looks as if I’m the oldest person here by far. So what’s all that about? It’s a longish way but it’s a flat course, and it feels pretty easy, so with a bit of training anyone could do it, even an oldie – or ‘masters’ as we’re called in the States.

 I’m not aiming to beat any records so I can do a bit of nature spotting as I go round, and sure enough I notice some dive-bombing parakeets arguing in the treetops, two cormorants on a barge with some swans staring intently into the water, and as we approach Hampton Court it becomes clear that the trees in that vicinity are all festooned with great balls of mistletoe. All very interesting. Now and then a runner going at some incredible speed zips past on the outside. These are the people aiming to win, to do a PB.  Some are going round twice and already lapping the 8.2 milers.

 So why isn’t everyone doing this, and more particularly people of a certain age? The early shoppers in Kingston look slightly bemused as we go past and after we finish it feels so great to sit in Patisserie Valerie drinking tea and eating a hot cross bun that I feel rather sorry for those who won’t get to feel this sense of – well I did it. It’s not that we’re in any way athletic stars, but we’ve all gone through the pain barrier, soldiered on when it got a bit tough and felt sheer happiness when it got easier. We were all practising mindfulness – the new buzzword for the chronically anxious – felt the breeze blowing past, heard all the sounds of nature with an almost supernatural clarity and listened to our bodies, however abusive they were being.

 Pierre de Coubertin saw the Olympic Games as a chance for the young to exert themselves in useful and fulfilling ways. The idea of lifelong exercise wasn’t part of the early 20^th century equation, and in some ways that isn’t the Olympic Games emphasis now. In fact it is frequently stated that the aim is to get young people fired up with enthusiasm, and the athletes themselves are youthful and in the prime of life; why wouldn’t they appeal to people their age? It has to be said that the Games themselves – in their current incarnation - are really for the young.

 So what’s appealing about sport for the oldster? Just watching it isn’t the same thing at all. Taking part is the key. And perhaps it’s purely a cultural rather than a physical thing. In Christopher McDougall’s book about the Tarahumara tribe, people carry on ‘taking part’ as they age. Running, sometimes competing, is what life is all about in this neck of the woods, and people of all ages find it perfectly natural.

 There’s often something daunting and other-worldly about the performances turned in by the Olympians, who are so obviously different from the rest of us. To attain those heights would be impossible without that essential element of physical genius which is gifted to very few. So perhaps we need some less impressive sporting role models to provide us with a meaningful legacy for 2012: old ones, young ones, fast and slow ones: all sorts.

 Reference

 

Christopher McDougall

 Born to run: the hidden tribe; the ultra-runners and the greatest race never seen

London: Profile, 2009

 London reference collections shelfmark: YK.2010.a.16168