The wonder of running and operating-table racism

" So," said my brother-in-law, Ben, when we were in Bristol last weekend,         " whatever happened with your running?  I read on your blog that it was one of your New Year's Resolutions to start running but you have been strangely silent on the subject since then!"

And although he didn't say it, i could feel the question he really wanted to ask: 

" did you wimp out?"

So here it is.

Time to own up:

I am a complete running convert. After all these years I now understand why Ninesh, a long-time dedicated runner, does it.  So 2 or 3 mornings a week, as the sun rises, you can see me running, or rather clomping, through the centre of Chichester in my immorally expensive and still quite clean, running shoes. And I think, to begin with, it was the shoes that did it!  

" If you really are going to run without damaging anything," said Ninesh, " you have to get proper shoes."

So on the 2nd of January he took me to a tiny shop, hidden on a Portsmouth street corner. Inside, it was packed with dauntingly sporty looking people standing in line . People who looked like they were born running.

" How long have you been running?" asked the assistant when I finally reached the front of the queue. He beckoned to a seat in front of him.  

" I haven't started yet," I whispered, glancing furtively around me.

For a while he didn't say anything, just stared, critically at my feet. 

" it's alright," he said at last, " We have shoes for everyone here, even.....beginners.  Just take your shoes and socks off, roll up your jeans and walk to the door over there."

I have walked barefoot through much of my life but when a stranger tells you to do it in front of lots of other strangers, walking normally, barefoot on a cold, unfamiliar floor suddenly becomes almost impossible. I felt eyes boring into my heels and toes as I walked barefoot to the door and back again before returning to my seat in front of the assistant.
He sighed slowly.

"Can I just ask," he said, " have you ever had to wear orthoptics?'

" No," I said, " should I have?"

He looked at me sadly.

" Well," he said, " we have shoes with different levels of support here.  1 is the least amount of support and 5 is the most.  But I'm not sure that 5 is going to be enough for you!"

In the end I bought a pair of level 5's and we all hoped for the best. And so far so good. My feet have never felt so supported! It's the rest of my body that has been left to its own devices.. But I had no idea running shoes cost so much.  They are now the most expensive thing I own. Which is why, on that damp  evening when Ninesh suggested we go for our first run, I couldn't say no.  Not when I had just spent so much money on a pair of shoes!

And here they are.My pride and joy.  Less  " diamonds in the sole of your shoes," than " hole in the bottom of your wallet!" 

My sister-in-law Anusha, like Ninesh, has the smooth, dark skin and meltingly dark eyes of many Sri-Lankans.  She is an acclaimed and successful kidney-transplant  surgeon who recently became a consultant. She often receives thanks from her patients for her kind and caring bedside manner and her ability to explain a complicated procedure in a way that everyone can understand. Yet recently a patient made it very clear that he did not wish for someone of her colour to operate on him.

" Well," replied Anusha calmly, " If I don't operate, you don't get a kidney. 
Over to you!"

I hope he made the right decision.