I haven't made any New Year Resolution(s). I'm not buying another track suit and I won't be running up our lane like the neighbour I glimpsed puffing his way uphill this morning. Why would anyone want to endure such torture -- maybe it's good preparation for running a marathon?
Years ago I went to the first Dublin City Marathon -- not as a participant but as a willing observer. I was accompanied by 'a friendly neighbour' named Matt. He's now my husband and we are far away from Dublin, which has nothing at all to do with what I'm about to tell you.
To look suitably athletic on the day I'd bought a deep purple track suit with silver trim. My shoes -- were a black patent creation with kitten heels. I suppose designer runners were available but I didn't know anything about this. My 'friendly neighbour' wore a green anorak with fur lined hood -- it was a cold morning in October.
We positioned ourselves where we'd be able to see a good number of participants. The crowd stirred en mass when runners rounded a bend, loud clapping and cheering began. There were calls of, 'your almost there,'when there was still about twenty miles left to cover! I saw our butcher run by looking very serious. An onlooker shouted 'fine leg of lamb Mick!'
The atmosphere was one of power and physicality. Feet pounded the tarmac, hot breath condensed into the air, sweat streamed off oiled bodies, fancy dress and clever logos made the onlookers laugh.
Then runners arrived in groups as the leaders disappeared down the road. I clapped wildly when a company of girls came into sight. Watching them I didn't see a runner in trouble. 'Watch out,' Matt warned, when a man began to stagger forward. He grasped the air as a fellow runner tried to steady him. He stumbled out of reach and fell face down at Matt's feet.
Fortunately there was an Ambulance in position nearby. It arrived at the place where we and others were trying to comfort the injured man. The rear doors of the ambulance opened and a very strong looking nurse with black hair severely arranged leaped out. 'Can you help me to lift him inside?' she asked Matt. He, always willing to oblige, did so. The doors closed and the ambulance moved away but reversed again very quickly. Simultaneously, I spotted a large leather bag on the ground. Opening the ambulance door for a second time the strong black haired nurse shouted, 'That's my medical bag on the ground there, can you give it up to me?' Matt, once again was more than willing to oblige -- so willing that he allowed the nurse to grab his arm as well as her bag. Before I realised what was happening the ambulance moved away, siren blaring, with Matt inside.
Stupidly I ran after the ambulance in my kitten heels and deep purple suit. I was crying out, 'where are they taking him?'
'Was that your fella?' a woman asked. 'The poor devil, sure he did his best.'
I ran up the road against the groups of runners coming towards me.
'Hey,' a runner dressed like Big Bird called 'You're going the wrong way. It's a one way race.'
'I'm only going one way,' I shouted -- Chicken.'
What a relief to see Matt's green anorak again. 'What happened?' I cried.
'Nothing much,' he replied. 'They checked my pulse, took my temperature, said ''you'll do'' and dropped me off here at the traffic lights.'
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