Running

“I didn’t know you had legs.”

 

“Oh yeah, I’ve got two. One on each side.”

 

“And they look dead sexy in those shorts.”

 

I run most days after school. I can’t stand the gym, everyone on treadmills like wannabe hamsters, I pound the streets. Occasionally I’ll run past someone I know and get heckled. It happens, but unlike in stand-up comedy you can’t answer back, at least not for long, as you’re running, so you don’t stop and chat, you take the flack and speed past.

 

But this wasn’t someone. This was Jasmine. Jasmine admiring my legs. I stopped to chat.

 

“You run a lot?” she asked.

 

“Most days,” I said.

 

“Far?”

 

“Just 5k mostly. Up to 10 when I have the time.”

 

“We should go running sometime.”

 

“Didn’t know you ran? Where d’yer go?”

 

“Along the river.”

 

“Never seen you.”

 

“You’re probably not up. I run first thing, before school.”

 

“Before school?” I didn’t know there was a before school. “What time is that.”

 

“About 5.00”

 

“5.00 am? In the morning?”

 

“Last time I looked.”

 

“But aren’t you asleep.”

 

“I wake up.”

 

“So do I sometimes. Then I go back to sleep again.”

 

“Fine, I’ll get another running buddy.”

 

Hang on. Was she asking me … was Jasmine Womble asking me to be her running buddy.

 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t. I just said it’s early. So when d’yer wanna go.”

 

“Tomorrow morning? I’ll run past your house at 5.00, you’d better be waiting for me. Well, don’t let me keep you.”

 

“See you at 5.00” I said, and ran on, feeling as if I was floating through the air.

 

xxx

 

I had a date. With Jasmine. Or did I? Going for a run together, did that count?  It had to, I decided. I mean, why else would she ask me to run with her.

 

The only problem was … Five in the bloody morning. Was she insane. I never get up before 8.00, and then only with copious amounts of coffee to get my system moving. To wake up at 5.00, no, it was worst, to wake up in time to be ready for a 5.00 run, I would have to – oh my god, the implications sank in – I would have to go to bed at a sensible time if I was to have any chance of getting up at 4.30.

 

I went to bed at 9.30.  I didn’t think I’d sleep but amazingly I crashed out five minutes after putting the lights out.

 

Then I woke up again at 10.30 when my parents went to bed. They looked in on me, to check I was ‘all right’, turning the light on and making a racket.

 

I tried to get back to sleep, but I was no longer tired. I lay in bed for a long time, but no sleep came. I played with my phone a bit, to help me relax, then I listened to some music on my headphones, to help me relax. Then I played with my phone a bit, to help me relax. It didn’t work. After the thousandth attempt at sleeping I checked my phone.  It was nearly 2.00. I’d had precisely 45 minutes sleep.

 

I thought about taking some of mum’s knockout cold medicine, it doesn’t really do anything to help a cold but it sure as heck sends you to sleep, one teaspoon of it could fell an elephant. The trouble is I had to get up again in just over 2 hours, and there’d be no chance of that if I took Sleep Off a Cold medication.

 

So I lay there a bit more. I read the book we had to read for school, then played on my phone a bit. Apparently elephants don’t get colds, so they wouldn’t need mum’s medication. Just as well with those noses, a six foot long snot hose.

 

Fuck, if I don’t sleep I’ll never get up.

 

xxx

 

My alarm went off and woke me, which means I must have finally gotten off to sleep, though I had no memory of it and felt none of the benefits. My god it was early.  Still dark, the middle of the night. Who goes for a run in the middle of the night? Oh yes, Jasmine does.

 

I had no time for breakfast proper, so I drank the Weetabix drink that had somehow appeared in the fridge. All the crunchy, cereally, non-liquid goodness of Weetabix, but in drink form. It was, of course, utterly disgusting.

 

Mum buys these things because she sees them on the adverts. She feels forced to buy anything that’s advertised, because if she doesn’t the adverts might stop, and clearly the adverts are the only reason she watches TV. 

 

I made myself coffee, just instant, there was no time to make a proper one. It tasted as bad as the Weetabix. Clearly mum had seen the coffee on TV.

 

I left the house at 4.55 to wait outside. It was cold, I was only wearing shorts and T-shirt, and clearly the spring weather didn’t get up this early either. There was no sign of Jasmine, nor of any kind of intelligent life, just a few stupidly early commuters and a police car. I leapt up and down to keep warm. It didn’t keep me warm, just shook up the liquid Weetabix and coffee I’d imbibed. God, I wanted to be sick.

 

Jasmine was late. It was nearly 5.10 when she finally arrived. That’s an extra 15 minutes I could have had in bed. That’s an extra 15 minutes she DID HAVE in bed – lazy cow.

 

“You managed to get up,” she said, no apology for being late.

 

“Been out here since five to,” I said. Still no apology.

 

“Look,” She held up her legs for me to inspect.

 

“Nice legs,” I said. I meant it.

 

“Not my legs, stupid. My trainers. New running shoes.”

 

The shoes were bright orange and glowed in the dark, like some insane safety aid imposed on night-time runners by the health and safety brigade.

 

“Nice,” I said. “Real stand out.”

 

“They’re latest thing. They hug the foot, breath in and out with your skin as you run, it’s like running barefoot but with shoes.”

 

It seems that in spite of her socialist leafleting, Jasmin is not immune to the lures of expensive training shoe bullshit.

 

“Impressive.”

 

She laughed. “Your face. You thought I was serious. Six quid from Asda. Cheap as shit, but they do the job.”

 

That’s my girl. “Nice,” I said. “Worth looking like an upside down belisha beacon if they’re that cheap.”

 

“You ready then?”  she ran off, not waiting for a reply. I ran after her. I thought I’d soon catch her up, pass her, and then deliberately stop and wait for her to catch up, but she sped down the street and I could barely keep up. Well, you can hardly expect me to be at my best when it’s still the middle of the night.

 

She whizzed along at a fair rate. Normally I’d have no problem keeping up, but this was stupidly early and my body wasn’t up to it. Worst, my stomach was at war with the liquid Weetabix I had stupidly drunk.

 

A thought suddenly struck me. Why did Jasmine go running so early every morning? Was it because, no surely not, she’d have said wouldn’t she, it wasn’t because it was a long run was it?

 

“How far we running, exactly? I shouted after her”

 

“I thought just ten, as you’re new to this.”

 

“Ten k!”

 

“No stupid, ten miles. I don’t fuck around with anything under 10 miles. Waste of time.”

 

Shit.

 

I tried to keep up. I mean, Jasmine’s a girl and everything, and I’m a much faster runner usually, but I struggled. The Weetabix, the coffee, the lack of sleep, the lack of sleep, did I mention the lack of sleep?

 

We reached the river. The sun was rising, a beautiful smiling pink streak of sunlight glimmering on the water and nobody else around, just me and Jasmin. Beautiful, poetic, romantic, a perfect opportunity … I threw up. A huge, splashing gush of liquid Weetabix and cheap coffee.

 

“Careful,” Jasmine said, “Don’t get it on me new trainers.”