The JH family, or at least those old enough to appreciate such things, all trooped out to our local multiplex last night to view this particular piece of cinematic culture:

Run, Fat Boy, Run

It’s not so bad, as movies go.

Basic plot: our hero leaves gorgeous pregnant wife at the alter and, surprisingly, no-one’s pleased. Some years later, in a futile attempt to win back her respect, he enters a marathon, having never run before. Amusing jokes ensue about running shorts, chafing, KY jelly on the nipples etc.

It was directed by David Schwimmer, who I believe was Ross from Friends in a former life. Thankfully, “Ross” managed to keep his face out of the movie.

I grumbled a bit, as expected, at the factual errors in the film. The most glaring was the way the marathon organisers kept the course open for 14 hours or so. That’s not going to happen in a major city….

Running
12km this morning, in bright crisp cool sunshine. It was a lovely morning and a good time was had by all. Well, by me. I’m not sure what A/M thought of it.

Heckling
I’ve noticed a rise in the JH heckling rate in the past week. P’raps it’s the new shorts, I don’t know. I was favoured with that wonderful old witticism “Run Forrest Run!” shouted from the back seat of a car in Kilsyth (I believe that’s the natural habitat of the runner heckler). This morning a man in his 60s on a racing bike shouted at me as I lumbered up the William Barack bridge “buy a bike!”.

Buy a bike???? Why??? I have a bike. I’d just rather run. I don’t understand his point. Oh well.