Here in Gladstone, signs are emerging that Spring is getting ready to pounce. Earlier sunrises, cane-toads re-appearing in dog water bowls, and our footpaths crammed each morning, and evening, with joggers preparing for the Botanic to Bridge Fun Run.
Folks, running is not something you do for fun. Running should only ever be used as a last resort to save a life, or make it to the smorgasbord, keg, toilets or exits before the crowd does.
If you need further proof that the words ‘run’ and ‘fun’ shouldn’t be uttered in the same sentence, then check out the faces of the many joggers shambling around town at the moment, and note the absence of smiles on their dials.
Sometimes their expressions are devoid of all emotion, like someone enduring a terrible torture, or showcasing any number of pained expressions ranging from ‘This really, really hurts!’ to, ‘I must be (insert swear word) insane?!’
If history is any guide we Brays have always been walkers, as there is no record anywhere of a Bray winning a running event. I reckon our original ancestor, Caveman Bray, only survived long enough to breed the next generation of strollers, because he managed to move only slightly faster than slow moving foods like geriatric tortoises, sleeping sloths, injured snails and moss.
But each year we happily line up with real runners in the B2B, and long after the pack of hopeful competitors have dashed off for possible race glory (and almost certain knee reconstruction), we can be found casually rambling along in the pre-Spring sunshine with a cheerful smile and a jaunty spring in our step.
Well, it’s for a great cause, and it’s also quite a lot of fun; provided you don’t do anything silly, like jogging or running.