FIT FIRST:We've taken to the great outdoors like never before, keeping body and soul together. It's free, it's fun and it beats being defeated by the recession. ANGELA RUTTLEDGE, a recent running convert, writes about how to get started, what kit to buy, what races to aim for, and what pitfalls to avoid. She'll be looking at iother sports and municipal faciites in coming weeks
SOME OF THE reasons running is so popular, and will become more so, are its affordability and flexibility: the only absolute requirement is to have good running shoes. Well, also a good sports bra, if you’re a woman. After that, it’s free and can be done any time, in any place.
The other reason that running is so popular is that it gives you super powers. Check out my husband, aka “The Flash”. He is in a lunchtime running club, with four or five of his colleagues. They change into their costumes and move in a pack through Irishtown, out off Sean Moore Road, looping around the semi-deserted shore of Poolbeg peninsula and back through the container-lined expanse of South Bank Road. They may fancy themselves rather deconstructed on these outings, urban warriors in an industrial wasteland, at least for the half-hour run before they go back to their papers and books, their cluttered desks, to wolf down a sandwich.
Then there is “The Clark Kent”. It’s 8am and you are afraid to speak because you still have bed breath despite your electric tongue brush. But your smug fellow commuter has been for a run on the beach, watched the sun come up, and when you meet him, he is learning Swedish on his i-Pod while waiting for the Dart. I admit, I do like to get my run done early as well. There’s nothing like five kilometres before breakfast to make you feel less like a rat on a wheel. In the lift, I’ll be thinking, “I am Buffy, I will slay the mean people, RRRRargh.” I’ll be very irritating those mornings, giddy as a school girl with a crush; high on the endorphins. Around midday, my exasperated assistant will come over to throttle it out of me, but at that stage my powers will have worn off anyway and she’ll find me weak as a kitten.
Lorraine, my running pal at work, takes the late shift; she’ll go home, get some spuds in, potter about for a while and then head out to prowl the dark city streets two hours past my bed time. Catherine, who lives in Cavan, is a bit of a “Catwoman” too, heading out at midnight. With a one-year-old baby, it’s the only time she can find. Isn’t she nervous in the dark? “Ah no,” she says, “I stick to the pavement and wear a reflector; the only time I get scared is going past the graveyard. It’s spooky – makes me run that bit faster.”
Surely superheroes’ ensembles are expensive though? Well, during races you’ll see some fellas in shorts so short you’d think they were going swimming in them. They couldn’t possibly cost more than €10-€15 (although you can’t put a price on modesty). Think of Batman’s sidekick Robin, minus the yellow tights ... waxing and varicose veins optional. I knew a Barry once, ex-Iron Man turned trainee solicitor, who wore a singlet for running, which made him look like an escaped gladiator.
Graduating from my mother’s five-year-old Penneys’ yoga pants (they kept slipping down when I ran . . . amusing for some) I bought some grey three-quarter-length tracksuit bottoms by Nike, costing around €40. These are earning their keep. I wear them all the time, for running, going to the shops, housework (with sensible all-weather flip-flops and woolly socks). It’s very anti-hero, very deranged housewife; however, I do think I look simply adorable in them.
Lorraine and her fiancé favour slick compression tights. I’m wondering if the dastardly duo know something about muscle support and lactic acid build-up and what-not. Lorraine just says they keep her legs nice and warm. I’m still not wearing them.
Check out www.sweatybetty.co.uk for super-heroine ensembles, www.runways.ie or www.amphibianking.ie for the compression gear.