little ‘angel’ into this world ( as hours of post-birth photo sessions, of what is in effect just a burping nappy filler, attempt to convince complete strangers such is the case) before you go ahead and do the deed, if you’re a runner, I beg you to think twice.
Displaying less élan than a French poodle on a Van de Graaff generator, running with a pram is rather
Unfortunate because it reminds the world that us white folk really shouldn’t be trying to run long distances, and instead is something best left to the Kenyans and Tarahumara.
Unfortunate because, like Quasimodo, the pained expression and desperate sepulchral wheezing is from lungs unable to fully inflate, a condition caused by rounded shoulders and a hunched over back, as one gamely leans into the uphill.
And most unexpected of all, unfortunate because in spite of all the very obvious signs of distress, and fortitude in the face of extreme hostility, one runs the very real risk of physical attack from angry parents.
Running along Nelson Mandela Drive, towards the bottom of Klapperkop, is admittedly a slightly hazardous undertaking, often the subject of strong debate between runners&cyclists and the rest of humanities armchair critics, henceforth known as “the Great Unwashed”.
Throw in a running pram, fill it with weighty objects and “tGU” become livid. Fists wave, mouth contours descend, teeth are bared and, as has happened once already, the passing car stops and reverses.
It would appear that the ‘Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Tinned Produce’ has a strong following in sleepy little Pretoria. At the very worst, any pram-car contact would result in a bent wheel, shattered nerves and a rather spectacular roadside salad weighing in at 10 kg, mixed with ‘whiskas’ cat korrels.
Even the pedestrian subspecies of ‘tGU’ ,with the luxury of more time, get it wrong . They smile (father and child out running together) and then look confused ( freak and tinned sweetcorn out running together? ) Some continue along the spectrum of facial expressions, ending up at ‘marked disapproval’.
The publics reaction to my few days of pram running, with my ‘obvious’ intentional deception inherent therein, is such that being of a naturally delicate constitution, I have started apologising for making people smile ( initially at least ) without apparent good cause.
The only conclusion that I can draw from this is : “ people don’t really like their vegetables and they definitely don’t like their veggies masquerading as babies.”
So, to all you running husbands and wives, I leave you with one sage piece of future running happiness advice, "if it’s not on, it’s not in."