The Fat Bloke Diaries

Episode Thirty-Seven – Head Over Heels

You know the dream; everyone’s had it or at least heard of it. It starts when you’re in mid-air, serenely taking in the details of the perfect blue sky and wispy clouds. You just start to really enjoy the sensation of almost flying when reality bites as hard as it ever can in a dream. You’re not flying, you’re falling.

Suddenly it’s a nightmare and you’re sleeping self is flooded with sheer panic. Seconds become hours as you pat at your chest, searching in vain for a ripcord. It’s futile of course, as your not wearing a parachute. My partner says that this is the point when I start to ‘run’ in my sleep, churning the bedclothes. Presumably I’m trying to fly. Either that or I’m chasing rabbits.

But nothing helps. Nothing stops your relentless descent. You continue to plummet and the ground looms larger and larger. Buildings, cars, even cows all appear to magically grow as you rush towards them and that inevitable and very final sickening thud…

It was at this point the other night that my dream changed direction suddenly in the way that only dreams and cheap television dramas can. I was lying on the ground having fallen, but this was more ‘real’. There was no aeroplane involved. I had simply tripped over while running.

Some dreams are impossible to decipher, I have no idea what brings them on (but the green-speckled cheese from the back of the fridge is looking suspicious). Others, like this one, are easy to explain. That hill that I regularly take past the ruined old railway station is far too steep to run down. The covering of loose gravel even makes walking down it when tired treacherous, so I really shouldn’t try to jog it. It’s a fear of mine that I’ll slip, tumble, fall and end up face down in a cloud of dust with gravel rash along my arms, legs and beautiful face. I could be disfigured for life, and probably crack one lens in my glasses, which will look great on a poster if I should ever sell the film rights. That would make me look hard. Half-blind, but hard.

This hasn’t happened yet (the falling, not the cinematic cash-in) but the mere thought of it makes taking that particular route just a little more difficult and slows me down just a tad. The images, both at night and by day, of plummeting down that nasty slope are enough to make me think twice each time I approach it. I don’t know much about sports injuries (and long may that ignorance remain) but I know that they’re more likely to happen when you’re doing something tentatively rather than striding out (or down in this case) with confidence.

Falling is never a good thing for a runner. Falling equals failing. It’s only one little letter away. Half a pen stroke really. Falling through the pack; falling off the pace; falling behind in training. Sadly, this latter is something that I’ve been doing recently.

I’ve been putting in the hours that I should, but my training plan seems to have suddenly taken a leap in difficulty. The learning curve has gone from linear to exponential and I’m getting to the vertical bit at the end. Previously every target had been demanding but achievable, but in the last few weeks the increases in distance have been more than my body (or more precisely my fitness level) can take. I haven’t wanted to because I’m male and we don’t like to admit our failings, but I’ve had to take a step backwards. I don’t know how many steps are in a week, but that’s how far I’ve stepped back in my plan. I’ve told myself that it’s no big deal, that I’ll still reach my goal, but it’s disappointing. And disappointment breeds disappointment just as surely as a small slip when going downhill on gravel and at speed can eventually lead to freefall.

That’s why I’m staying away from that particular steep gravelly hill this week. I don’t want to risk the headfirst dive of death. It could injury me physically and emotionally; neither of which would help my long term fitness and fund-raising goals. So many people have been incredibly generous to date, and I wouldn’t want to fall from grace with them.

Not all things that fall are bad though. My weight is continuing to head steadily downwards, and as a direct result of this, so are my trousers. It’s got to the point where I don’t even need to unfasten them to take them off. This can sometimes be a good thing, but is probably a little inappropriate for the office. Especially as performance reviews are looming.

I’m going to have to start wearing a belt.


© Shaun Finnie 2009

 

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