The First Photo

I have to admit it; I’m not photogenic. I know I’m no oil painting so I don’t have unrealistic expectations. I appreciate that the camera isn’t going to turn me into a George Clooney lookalike, but some people who aren’t particularly eye-catching do “take a good photo”. This photo of me is not untypical.

There was a (an?) horrendous foul-smelling muddy trench on the PECO Ilkley cross country run. You had to cross it three times through the shallow end and three times through the deep end. A guy from Ilkley Harriers had positioned himself with camera to catch the interesting action as runners floundered or powered their way through the puddle. He got some great shots and was joined by enthusiastic amateurs equally keen to see how we coped. There are photos of various people Kay, Rick, Dave and Liz among others all storming through the puddle. But not me.

So here I am going through the muddy trench for the third time. First time I went through I really went for it (honest). Where was the cameraman then? Wandered off to photograph the alpha males and the uber fast lady from Kirkstall coming back through the shallow end. Second time round I also went for it with some gusto but twisted my ankle and nearly fell over. Luckily the cameraman had wandered off again so fortunately no photographic evidence.

Third time around and I was feeling a little tentative. The two guys behind me had been lining me up for the last half mile, my ankle was sore and I’d begun to become anxious about the muddy expanse which in my mind has grown from a puddle to a lake. Suddenly the runner in front of me (who I’m about to lap) pulls up so she can tiptoe across the puddle. It‘ll make no difference; they’ve cunningly attached tape around the lake and you’ve got to go through the middle of it. Then “snap” and I’m captured for posterity in a bizarre startled pose. What is this? Aquaphobia? Hydrophobia? Whatever it is the two guys behind storm past me and I limp to the finish line a sorry and bedraggled spectacle.