2011 Streak Day 225/365 (Aug 13th): Slapstick

2011 Streak Day 225/365 (Aug 13^th): Walk - 4 miles, Time !hr 10min, Weather - still grey

It has taken three days to get to the canal. Usually when I return from holiday it is my first run - a form of touching base. Today however was a walk. My legs felt weary and told me that although I had done OK, I could do with some rest. But total rest is impossible in  2011!

The gentle walk was fine but on holiday such a walk would not even have been mentioned in the daily stats.

Along the way I saw three young men (twentyish), dressed in suits with ties loosened off, messing about on a row boat. They were trying to get from one side of the canal to the other but lacking oars they were using a lump of wood to paddle. Progress was unsteady but they reached the other side only to be berated by one of the boat owners, whereupon they abandoned the row boat.

I can only think that young men in suits on a Saturday lunchtime meant they were refugees from a wedding.

I can remember something similar from my youth. After a wedding, three of us decided to play golf in rain so hard nobody else was out on the course. Being drunk we did not care how wet we got and also being drunk we found every inept shot funny. My own low/high point happened when a three wood slipped from my hands when driving off (as I said it was very wet and the grip was slippy) but then I could not find the club. I looked all around but it was nowhere to be seen as I went through the classic ‘searching for something lost’ routine of looking again and again in the same place and being just as surprised each time that it wasn’t there. I had all but given up when I looked up and saw the club hanging from a tree like a long catkin. It had obviously flown up and the head had hooked itself over a branch - amazing. I retrieved it and carried on with a puzzled look on my face like Stan Laurel.

Sometimes I think I still see life as a never ending silent comedy.

The Dangers of Golf

I regularly run near to three golf courses: The Grove, Berkhamsted, and Ashridge. The Grove I have already written about.

The Berkhamsted course is particularly attractive. It is carved out of the Common and actually adds to the recreational feeling of the land. It is criss-crossed with footpaths and is not therefore a privileged enclave, fenced off and private. In fact it was the Golf Course in conjunction with the National Trust who preserved the land as a Commons and for that reason I feel warmly towards it. However footpaths crossing the fairways can be dangerous.

Running out from behind some bushes I heard the metal crack of a driver. Better stop I thought. At the same moment I looked round I heard the shout of 'Fore!' and a ball flew past me, about an arms length away. “That was close” I thought and then carried on. It had been the merest pause; I hardly missed a step and didn't think any more about it. Only afterwards did I think that I had been rather sanguine. Another couple of feet and I could have been laid out on the grass watching stars circling above my head. It would have been no ones fault. The golfers could not see me when they hit the ball and because I was running I came into its path sooner than I would have done if walking.

There is only one conclusion: 'pay more attention'. That is an interesting problem when running because sometimes it is good to disassociate and let your mind wander somewhere else. So the conclusion has to be specific: 'disassociation is fine but not near the golf course.'.

It might be a little indistinct but this the photo with this post looks out to one of the greens of the Ashridge Golf Course. I had a look at the club website and took particular pleasure in their dress code. Apparently tailored shorts are allowed but only if they are worn with long socks, turned over at the top. Brilliant! Grown men basing their rules for dressing on the Boy Scouts.

Even if I could afford it (or even if I played golf), I would never join a club that thought dressing as a Boy Scout was a way of keeping up standards.