Anakana Schofield – Award Winning Author of Bina, Martin John and Malarky

October 6, 2008

Further thoughts on thinking about what Mr Murakami thought about when he was running, now that I have stopped running

Mr Murakami did not mention the hallucinations likely caused by pneumo deprivation. Like for example the other day before I had officially stopped running and was still running I saw Joe Biden sitting on a park bench wearing a pressed white shirt.  Joe Biden remained on the bench deep in thought on my second lap and I did not do a third lap so for all I know he’s still sitting there.

At the time he was rumoured to be in debate camp, but my eyes saw him on a park bench in a different country. And he was very pensive, which is vice presidential unlike the other peut etre VP twit who appears to be on non stop audition for a barn dance and might form some coherent sentences if she actually sat down on a bench.

Anyway I digress.

But if, after my paltry efforts at the sport of running, I induce visions of Biden; imagine the visions Mr Murakami has had, and omitted to tell us about. By mile 58 he surely should have been getting a peek at T-Rex (as in the dino, not the band), JFK (since oxygen deprived hallucinations appear to have a political theme). This is likely the truth behind Nessie the Loch Ness Monster. She’s real alright, but she’s international. A weekly acquaintance of anyone pacing about, torturing the achilles.

September 27, 2008

Thinking about what Mr Murakami thought about when he was running

Mr Murakami was right in his descriptions of running. Initially I was perfectly satisfied to let him do the running, but then after he passed all those dead dogs in Greece and the unjust cruelty of that marathon where you’ve to hit mile 38 out of a total 65 mile course by a certain time or they hoof you from the race… I needed to raise out of the armchair and test drive what he reports.

Firstly he omits to mention, probably because he’s been at it 26 years and no longer notices, the perpetual build up of NASA style pressure and pain round the shins and ankles after running about five paces. Pressure only relieved by stopping and yowling. This never ceases even after 21 whole days of running.

Another omission is the ankle bending motion required to dodge the ample supply of dog shite (are there no dogs in Japan?) Eyes must remain down or shoes and nasals will suffer.

Eventually when you can alight your gaze for a few seconds, you do discover hark indeed, he’s right the same faces pass each day and nod or avoid eye contact…there’s the man in the green jacket who cycles up that hill every day (at a much swifter pace than I manage going down it) and then a few days more of ‘hark, there’s that man in the green coat before a closer squint …and  er bloody hell I actually know that man in the green coat and better duck so he does not bear witness to me in this much reduced condition.

He also did not mention the runner’s fury at objects blocking their way. Usually these objects happen to be baseball players, who seem to adopt urban sprawl as their policy for temporarily inhabiting outdoor spaces in pursuit of raising their bats. Pace, pace, pace, pant, chest pain, pant, cue blurring of vision, what the bleep is that slung across the path…tents, bicycles, extended family, cooler, and finally, but surely with single intent of wiping out approaching, arthritic runner they come complete with waist high dangling cigarettes designed to singe you and your polyester shorts as you pass them and their sprawling (and unnecessary) accoutrements. And this was on a rainy day. I think they bring the entire block of flats when the sun comes out.