Secondly, it wasn’t actually a giant.
And if we’re being totally honest, I wasn’t really being chased.
The word “by” is spot on though. Can’t fault that.
Tell you what, I’ll start again…
This is a short tale that illustrates just how easily amused I am by stupid things.
It was a night-time run (although, at this time of year, pretty much any run after about 1pm counts as one of those). To light my way, and to scare off the many werewolves, zombie ninjas and razor-toothed killer ducks that frequent my home town, I’d opted for a small Nathan clip-on light. A year or two ago I reviewed a ton of light-up stuff from them, with mixed results, but this little chap is something I still swear by. It’s small but formidable, like a toddler with a hand grenade.
I’d clipped it to the front of my jacket (at around nipple-height, since you’re asking. Pervert), and as I plodded along the dark, oaty-fragranced streets, I noticed a curious thing.
There weren’t many streetlights about. Well, actually, that’s not true. There were lots of streetlights, but the council leave most of them turned off these days. The only reason they’re still there is to give me something to run headfirst into. But there was a bright moon behind me, casting a dim shadow of my squat little body in front of me as I ran. But then on top of that there was another shadow, thicker and darker than the first, cast whenever my hands passed in front of the beam thrown by my chest light. The overall effect was that a giant pair of hands, each about the size of a small horse, were clutching at me as I made my way through the murky streets.
I was filled with a feeling of 30% wonder and 67% sheer terror. The remaining 3% was mostly made up of pudding-related nostalgia that doesn’t really have any bearing on this story. At one point, I momentarily forgot about the scary shadow monster, perhaps distracted by a particularly handsome owl or something, only to spot it again and let out an involuntary “eep!” noise. I’ll be honest, I’ve made manlier noises.
I think this story pretty much sums up why I’m still a bit rubbish at running, even after all these years. If Ussain Bolt kept stopping mid-race to giggle at a cloud shaped a bit like boobs or to talk to a cow, he’d probably have been considerably less successful.
BEFORE YOU GO…
Hey lovely person who’s reading my blog! How are you? Guess what, I’ve been shortlisted for the 2016 Running Awards. Yay! I was nominated for an award last year, and while I didn’t win, I did get horrifically drunk and became very excited when I found a button on the floor. Long story. Anyway, if you enjoy reading this blog, then frankly you’re a bit weird. But also, it’d be lovely if you could spare a few seconds to vote for me in the online/blog category (I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m unlikely to win “Shoe of the Year”). Here’s the linky: Running Awards 2016. Last year there weren’t snacks, but this year there might be snacks, so please please PLEASE don’t let me not be a part of the potential snack-eating. Fankoo!
Coffee and cake? Yes please, that’d be lovely.