It seems as if everyone I know is raising money for good causes. Which is absolutely amazing, well done indeed to them all – but the trouble is they are putting so much effort into their fund-raising that I am starting
to feel a little, well, inactive by comparison.
This Sunday it is the Brighton Marathon and several friends are competing. I wouldn’t mind if they were all
young un’s but one is running in celebration of her 65th birthday. Plus my brother in law is off on his annual fifty mile bike ride for the British Heart Foundation and, while he is younger than me, he’s well into his sixties.
Whereas, with the very best will in the world, I can’t somehow imagine myself in the saddle or on the marathon beat. Why are some people so much more, well, up for it than I am?
My son in law is signing up for several sponsored bike rides. He’s cycling over the bridges of London, from London to Brighton, and from London to Brighton off-road. Not all at the same time, fortunately. Somehow the idea of
the London to Paris cycle ride seems to have slipped off his radar. This is a pity as the Middle of the Darling Daughters and I really fancied a trip to Paris to meet him as he arrived at the finish. We would get there early, of course, just in case we missed
him. As in, the day before. In time for moules frites and something fizzy in the Champs Elysees....
The grandchildren sign us up for all kinds of sponsored activities
but that goes with the grandparental territory, doesn’t it? We have, in our time, sponsored silences, spelling, goal shooting, book reading as well as the usual walks. If you take a quick trip over to the Way We Were page, you can read the story
of a sponsored walk from the Olden Days (well, the Seventies!) Those were the days! But, if you read it you will see that nothing has changed. I am as bad now as I was then when it comes to Sponsored Events of the Physically Demanding Variety. The Eldest
of the Darling Daughters puts me to shame, often taking part with her girls in fund-raising runs. She is the “Anne” in the Way We Were stories so perhaps I can take some credit for her upbringing. She will always be properly shod when she sets
out on one of her runs, she won’t be wearing last summer’s down and out sandals. As I explained a couple of days ago, as a parent it’s better to be a horrible warning than a good example.
I do make a good supporter (though I say it myself as shouldn’t.) I am good at standing on finish lines with banners and bottles of beer. What I lack in activity, I make up for in vocalising. You will hear me encouraging
you as you limp / scoot / hurtle towards the tape. But is it enough? I ask myself.
Down on the sea-front the other day I witnessed what could be the answer to
my question. It was a Sponsored Toddle for Very Small Children. This time next year, I shall snatch young Morgan and even younger Faris from the arms of their unsuspecting parents and head off down to the sea-front where together we shall toddle. Provided
I can manage to persuade them both to toddle in the same direction we will do just fine. From what I could see, it wasn’t a long course – just right for tiny toddlers.
And for me...