Big-J runs Canada (the whole of it) as I get to grips with American politics

We almost didn’t go to Canada.  Big-J is taking his training for the Adidas Thunder Run very seriously in-deed.   And what with his damaged hamstring, his strict training programme has been forcibly interrupted in a big way by intensive physiotherapy.  He hadn’t wanted to see a physio because illness and injury seems to equal weakness in his book but, having had a few sessions with the lovely Jonny in Colindale, true to form, Big-J now has a new best friend.  “Such a nice bloke,” he told me, “so caring and so kind.  I really like him.”

So the trip to the wedding of our friend’s daughter was conditional.  Conditional upon him being able to do at least two 10k runs whilst we were there.   “I have to do it,” he said - repeatedly.  “I can’t let my team down.  They’re relying on me.”  As the oldest in the team by a fairly long way, Big-J is determined to put on a good show and, so to speak, keep his end up.  

To be fair, I understand where he’s coming from.  The Thunder Run is a relay race which is run over 24-hours with one runner having to be on the track at all times during the 24 hours.  Through daylight and dark, in sunshine or rain, they must run and run …. and run.

Day One in Toronto was a bit hot and humid with the imminent threat of thundery showers so he headed off to the hotel’s state of the art, fully air conditioned gymnasium.  There they had had multifarious treadmill machines and he managed 5k on one of those but didn’t enjoy it at all.  Returning to the room 40 minutes later he said: “I only like to run outside” as he did a few star jumps.  “That way, I at least feel like I’m getting somewhere.  Better for the knees it may be but running on the spot just doesn’t float my boat.”

He spent the next 48-hours asking anyone (who was prepared to listen) what outdoor route he should take and where he was least likely to encounter bears  (his bear wrestling days are over) and all the other stuff that people-who-run seem to find so fascinating. Two days later, he donned his dinky shorts and specially designed aerodynamic running shirt and headed off to the great Canadian outdoors.  That was at 9am on the Sunday and he expected to be back in the room by around 10am – that same day.

By 10.32am, my mind was wandering into some spine-chilling places.  I knew that, to keep his silhouette lean and clean, he’d left with no phone, no money and no real clue as to where he was headed.  However, I felt confident that a man with A-Level geography couldn’t come to too much harm and, telling myself not to be so silly, I pushed all panicky thoughts to the back of my mind as I watched Mitt Romney and Barak Obama shamelessly electioneer courtesy of CNN.  They’re so, well, obvious – the Americans.  No subtlety at all. The way I see it, both candidates are offering the electorate big tax breaks which anyone marginally above idiot can tell is unaffordable in the current economic climate.  And Obama should be ashamed of himself – but I digress.

At 11.06am I started pondering the complexities of arranging trans-Atlantic transportation of a corpse assuming, that is, that I would ever find his body being as how he had no identification, no money and no phone about his person.  It would clearly take some time and ingenuity. By 11.34am and having an anxiety attack, I was mentally preparing to break it to my friends that Big-J was missing.  This, in the full knowledge that his disappearance would blight their big weekend and that their daughter’s wedding would forever be associated with our tragedy.

By 11.47am I was suppressing hysteria as my imagination ran riot.  Perhaps he’d wandered into that scene from the Bonfire of the Vanities and been mugged, dun-over, kidnapped, beaten, shot or knifed.  And do they actually have bears in downtown Toronto? The endless possibilities stretched out before me. At this point, I’d like to be able to tell you that all was well and he’d come back to the hotel and been waylaid in the bar by a friend – but he hadn’t.  Anyway, I didn’t dare leave the room to check just in case I missed him as he staggered in (perhaps missing a limb or two) after whatever grisly experience had befallen him.

Finally, at around 11.53am he did actually sort of fall into the room, flushed, sweating and palpably overwrought.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry …” he spluttered.  “You must have been so worried” he added.  “I’m really sorry …. so sorry.”  It transpired that he had indeed got lost - very lost - having thought that the whole of Toronto was designed on a grid system and not realising that one part of it skewed off at an angle.  His internal compass had really let him down. He’d been out running and walking for almost three hours and was somewhat shaky on his pins.  I tried to be annoyed but actually, I was just relieved to be able to breathe again.

In the words of the great bard, all’s well that ends well. This coming weekend we’re off to buy Big-J a running bum-bag for storage of his phone and some money before even runs Regents Park again – A-Level Geography or not.