Bruce Lee Doesn’t Scare Me

The best way to win a fight remains by 500m. Running to me is the ultimate martial art, I’m a runner and I run. I watched futurama last week and there was this great line from bender: ‘I refuse to fight as a conscientious objector.’ ‘A what?’ ‘You know a coward.’ Running is a martial art so powerful and legitimate instinctively it has a category all to itself in the ‘fight or flight’ response.
Running is my first preference sport for a number of reasons to me. Firstly because generally speaking I’m too uncoordinated at ball sports. Secondly all sports are mind games and long distance running really does strip you down to your mind as the key muscle being exercised. It’s truly the best thing for willpower and discipline except for maybe staring contests, but running you can do by yourself.
If I may in praise of cowardice just in case I gave you the impression that I am some sort of noble character, you can get hurt, braindamaged or do long term damage to your joints engaging in a fight even if it’s only over spilt beer. You can gain a sense of achievement (and I have) by turning tail and burying an aggressive individual in the dust. If you run enough you gain extra sensory powers and superb reflexes as good as any shaolin monk. You end up knowing exactly when things are going to turn ugly. You can hear exactly how far behind your pursuers are so you don’t have to turn your head slowing you down and putting you off balance. You also get a good sense for how mentally strong your adversaries are and get a sense of when and how people give up. Like watching the tennis if your two sets up then drop one you know you have to come out in the fourth set and destroy all hope otherwise you go onto the backfoot and probably are more likely to lose. Every contest has a momentum that rolls between the contenders. Running is the best way to understand when your mind gives up, when it feels strong and how far it can push your body.
If they introduced the draft I don’t know whether I’d go to jail or war. Bullets can run you down for sure. And with my pretty locks and rosey cheeks I’d probably be bell of the shower ball in prison but I could probably run round the exercise yard. I was good at british bulldogs man that was a great game. I chipped a tooth. Now it’s black. I’ll never get in a fight again.