Cool running

I’ve been doing a lot of running recently as I train for a marathon in the New Year. There are quite a few joggers in this area (Dubai is full of people in their 20s and 30s keen to be beautiful and glamorous). What’s interesting is that jogging is one sport that so many do ungracefully. I’d say the majority of people have the strangest, most ungainly running styles – so different from what we see on television. Heads flop forward, arms hang limp or shake, feet plod or swing… It’s funny to watch. Of course almost no-one ever gets taught how to run, or sees themselves running – people just assume it’s something we can all do.

Of course, then you think ‘Well, what do I look like?’ Dubai offers plenty of full length tinted windows so you occasionally get a glimpse of yourself, but I can’t say with any confidence that I’m among the minority that don’t look ridiculous when I jog.

That leads me on to a wider point. How many of us really appreciate the way we look? Not the face profile we see in the mirror every morning in the flattering light, but our manner, our style, our gait, our demeanor. My wife is very good at pointing out how I am often a ‘gaou’ (Ivorian French for someone who looks/is dumb – see Magic System’s chart-topping song ‘Premier Gaou’). How sometimes my back is not straight,, my mouth is open. Sometimes she says I’m looking like Yaya Boni the president of Benin whose head is permanently stretched forward. Certain gestures I make, certain positions I take naturally in photos…the way I can sometimes rock back and forth or tilt on the sides of my feet when I’m giving a presentation. In many ways my wife has opened up a whole new world for me but pointing out how unstylish so many people are (I am certainly still in that category). Maybe for my part, it comes from growing up without sisters.

I noticed in (particularly French-speaking) Africa how Westerners are almost always extremely frumpy in their clothes and style. It’s funny but UN/NGO/diplomats tend to think of themselves as rather superior beings (though they won’t admit it), but if you watch the news with Ivorians they’ll frequently be joking at how ridiculous some of the world’s great and good look when they come to visit. I guess this sort of mockery could come under the ‘Weapons of the Weak’ label. When I think back to some of the clothes I used to wear to visit government ministers in Brazzaville, Congo, I positively shudder.

It’s nice to know perhaps that beyond the genetics of bone-structure and body dimensions, we can become more stylish/beautiful by just knowing how to hold ourselves. But there’s also a scary recognition for many of us that we aren’t really sure of the impression we’re giving off. I remember once going to an all night youth club party back home in my early teens and I spent the night dancing in what I thought was a very cool way. I thought I’d really shown my skills, but one joke from brother and I realised what a clown I’d been. It took me ten years after the event to realise that teenage acne had scarred my face and neck – it was something I actually didn’t even know was there. Then I realised that it was what everyone saw when they met me. I hadn’t been aware that that was part of the message I was giving off.

We’ve come a long way from jogging in this post. To move back in that direction, and picking up on a point above, the annoying thing about the fitness side of physical beauty is that we can’t blame it on our genes (at least most of us) – if we don’t have a six pack it’s actually our own choice. That’s actually more difficult than saying we weren’t born beautiful because the fact of us being overweight is because we’re not disciplined enough (or it’s simply something we don’t consider important). it’s a choice we’ve made. For my part – I’m a long way from a six pack.

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