I’m absolutely disgusted with myself. Thirteen days without running is positively scandalous; so it’s good I don’t have one of those PTs from
Asia’s biggest loser here, slapping my face with a Carrot, whilst shrieking expletives in my left ear and looking ready to explode from ‘roid rage. OK, so the sunburn and dehydration knocked me out for around a week, but most things in life are learned the hard way and I now know to sip throughout the day. It’s six of one and half a dozen of the other – sweating in the heat and sitting in the dry air-con both remove fluids. That quite literally sucks.
You’d have thought that morning running is preferential; surely it makes sense, as the Sun’s absence during night will make for the lowest temperature.
C’est logique, non? Well, the French are always wrong – about everything – so I headed back to the Park for the penultimate hour of afternoon instead. Another lesson learned; next time I’ll go just after 6pm has chimed. I wonder why I’ve never noticed this before; the whole of Thailand grinds to a halt for the National Anthem, blared from any and every available Speaker at precisely 6 o’clock. Traffic even stops; seriously, the Tuk Tuks set down on the left.
When in to my stride, I don’t want to stop. And with my headphones blaring motivational Club music, it takes a while for my observational skills to awaken. Has Hiro Nakamura stopped time, or an Alien ship descended – why is everyone stood still? I’m used to dodging in races – I’ll do the same here, perhaps I can see what all the fuss is about further ahead. Tentatively, I unplug one headphone and look around inquisitively. Happening to pass a Speaker, conveniently opposite three policemen, my ear is filled with the dulcet tones of the Thai Anthem. Evidently, it took a while to realise what was going on, but rather than chance an arrest I think I’ll stop. It is, however, difficult not to laugh – the propaganda clearly extends
far beyond the Cinema screen and out in to daily life. I’m intrigued; it seems born of a Communist regime.
Lap three comes around and I’m joined by an excellent pace-setter. Common behaviour in races this is; in fact some of my best times have been made through chasing tail along the course. Yes, I’ll admit to that; anything for that new PB. As it happens, I enjoy running with some fair competition, and as the fourth Lap commences, we’re gently jostling with each other and slowing up should one take a generous lead. We exchange the occasional hand signal, gesturing to keep motivation levels high and before I know it, I’ve done my four laps. A day off to let the ITB settle and a foot massage later, I’ll be back to get high again. Hard life this is.
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