The Lonely Lycra Life

It is not often that I am shocked by Londoners. We come in all shapes and sizes and can be seen doing a number of strange and not so strange activities at any time of the day or night. Typically none of this phases me. Up until recently I was convinced that London was the most unfriendly of European cities which, being slightly anti-social at times, has never phased me.  Not ones for a stop and chat the most interaction a native Londoner may have with a stranger is when we are asked for the time.

One time we do show signs of a break down in our cool calm exterior is when we exercise. Runners hailing from all sides of the city, from the Concrete Jungle professional types of Canary Wharf to the Square Milers and even the cool artsy Soho Media Types, may wear a perma-scoul when walking through the tubes or pushing past tourists, but come Running Time there is an odd sense of Camaraderie. Many a time I have been huffing and puffing my way round the Wharf only to be passed by a sprightly sprinter who gives me a knowing nod. Whenever I am running red faced around Regents Park I know that when I am overtaken by another jolly jogger they will be sure to crack a smile back at me. Even cyclists tip their helmet or offer a wave. It is just part and parcel of the sporty clientele in London.

So imagine my surprise when I sampled the Geneva running route this weekend (just a little self plug as I am super smug that I ran whilst on my City Break!) only to find that London is not in fact, the rudest city of them all. Husband and I jetted off to Geneva for the weekend for a wedding and whilst I was there I decided to keep up with my training regime and sample the UNESCO suggested running route by Lake Geneva. It was absolutely stunning. The weather was gorgeous and the setting couldn’t have been more perfect for a serene morning run to clear my head. The route took me through the park, along the lake and up to the Botanical Gardens. Gorgeous. The only problem was the hard faced fellow runners I encountered. At first I beamed proudly at the chap I saw running towards me. It was oddly disconcerting to find my award winning smile was met with such a frown. The next random runner I saw I tried a more professional nod. When this still didn’t work I must admit I resorted to pulling out all the stops and hitting them with my best London glare and ignoring everyone. I would love to say that I managed to shock someone into smiling, or even to tempt someone to nod. But alas, I didn’t even get a little eyebrow raise.

So there it is, the lonely life in lycra. Who would have thought that the happy watch wearing, fondue eating, chocolate making Swiss would ever be so cold? If I can implore anyone who reads this to just spare a thought for this Lone Woolf running when you can. Give us a nod, go on.

Fact of the blog: As soon as you stop smoking, your risk of lung cancer starts to go down

http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserProfilePage.action?userUrl=AmyWoolf
http://cancerhelp.cancerresearchuk.org/type/lung-cancer/