Having been one of the first to arrive, somehow I've managed to be right at the back for the 2008 "Great Gorilla Race" and I'm itching (literally) for the off. Im clad in full Gorilla costume and would be running almost blind such is the design of the mask.
It had mentioned in the e-mails that I’d received from the “Gorilla Organisation” that we would receive a rousing speech from TV personality and ex “Goodie” Bill Oddie shortly before the off. I could hear somebody in the far off distance saying something, but from this range it came across as gobbledegook rather in the fashion of the teacher in those “Charlie Brown” cartoons from years ago. You could feel the atmosphere starting to build though even from here, and, probably encouraged by our friend Bill, suddenly all eight hundred competitors were becoming agitated in the extreme, some vigorously beating at their chests with pumping fists, others jumping up and down, and nearly all either whooping or screeching as a loud hooter sounded for the race to begin.
It was something of an anti climax then, when, although jogging on the spot I didn’t actually get to move anywhere for at least two minutes as the hordes of primates bobbed up and down trying to get a glimpse of the scene up front and the possibility of actually getting started. I don’t think I saw one gorilla not in fancy dress, not too far in front I could see my old pal from the tube station with bowler hat and brolly, there was a red Indian with full head dress, who it transpired was one of a group, - “The Village People”, quite a few were done up as ballet dancers, a team of basketball players who bounced a ball the whole way round, Wonder woman was just one of a batch of superheroes, a couple of boxers sparred a bit over enthusiastically, and at one stage wrestling each other to the ground, there were pirates waving cutlasses around, a butcher and Michael Jackson performing his “Thriller” routine.
Suddenly the road opened up before me and we were off. Unfortunately it was very difficult to see through the two tiny slits above the eyes of the mask and I stumbled straight into a gorilla clad in a safari suit. After a few muffled apologies and just a hundred yards after the start I saw the first casualty of the campaign, when a “Ghostbuster”, or at least I think that was what he was supposed to be with a big pack on his back, had crashed and was laid writhing on the kerb looking a bit confused., several of his pals crowded round to help and somebody had pulled his head off to help him breathe.
I had no sooner got into my stride when I was collared by some youth and asked if I would do a TV interview. Hamming it up somewhat I said I would just as soon as I got by breath back, (even though I’d only been jogging for about ten seconds) and proceeded to cough and splutter, bend over with my hands on my knees, and take a long draw on my fag. (it was one of those joke ones). In my old mans voice I began to explain as how I’d drawn the short straw back home in the club and won the gorilla suit in a raffle, after which I’d been flown over here and frog marched to the start etc. etc. blah blah blah and basically lied through my rubber teeth for two minutes. As I set off once more I panicked as I realized that there was nobody behind me and all the runners in front were now out of sight. Another disconcerting thing was that the roads hadn’t been blocked off or anything so we had to run the gauntlet with pedestrians and Saturday morning traffic, which wasn’t inconsiderable as it was such a glorious day. I put on a sudden spurt to try and catch up and was nearly mown down by a black cab coming round the corner, because I could only see directly in front of me, and even then not that much. Fortunately I came across a race steward, who directed me the right way and across a pedestrian crossing.
At this point as I was running alone, and to the uninitiated seemingly a lone nutter, the number of looks I got from eager Japanese tourists was a mixture of high amusement and stern faced animosity. Of all the times I’ve had my photograph taken in all of my life, you could times that number by ten in that short five minute period until I caught up the stragglers at the back of the troupe. This was a happy moment and I could now relax into the roll and I found myself trotting straight backed, chest out and slightly bow-legged, all the while keeping the cig between the index and middle fingers of my right hand.
After about twenty minutes it was beginning to get hot in there and I noticed that many of my fellow competitors were either taking their masks off or pushing them back so that the chin was up on top of their heads, This was an outrage as far as I was concerned, once the mask has been taken off the whole illusion is shattered and if it had been anything to do with me it would have meant instant disqualification. But it was hot.
I had worked out that it would take about half an hour to run the 8km course and I had to laugh to myself that I’d actually put in some training in for this thing. As a rule I never run, I find it acutely boring, but I’d forced myself into early morning runs along Benidorms promenade at first light in order to get my dodgy knees into the swing of things. But here tootling along weaving in and out of casual shoppers and wide eyed tourists I was barely above stiff walking speed. Still, the scenery was good – if I could have seen it.
After about thirty five minutes we came across another steward who offered us (yes us, I was in the pack now) encouragement and said “Come on hang in there, you’re nearly halfway there!”. I shouted back at him “What!?, - halfway!?, - I thought you were about to put a medal round me neck and say well done, - yer bastard”.
Not long after this we came across a water station on the bank of the Thames that was being drained of all its resources, somebody thrust a bottle at me and although my first thought was to snatch and devour it, I relented realizing it was bad for the image. Instead I jogged on a few yards and tuned left into a pub opposite where H.M.S Belfast is moored. I dipped into my bumbag and produced a fiver to pay for my half of lager. The barmaid, who sounded eastern European regarded me with impunity remarking only that she liked my glasses.
I stood outside by the river and jammed the beer glass between the masks lips but when that didn’t work I lifted the chin outward slightly and had a sly slurp that way. This was indeed a great day. A bit further on I stopped as I recognised a few individuals that I’d set off with at the start and we took a few photos.
This was the first time I’d taken time out to look around me and see the bigger picture, it now appeared that we’d run over Tower Bridge and a few other bridges of lesser renown though I hadn’t been fully aware of it at the time, and I was conscious of the fact that we must be somewhere near finishing the course which saddened me somewhat.
As I approached the finishing line I was once again trotting alone and was given a rousing reception by a substantial crowd which surprised me somewhat. as I thought everybody would have pissed off home by now. Bill oddie was supposed to give out the medals, but had long since passed this duty on to one of the woman race officials by the time I theatrically dipped over the line, only to be ushered to the side to give another interview. I basically repeated the script from the first one but with a few more lusty coughs, chokes and wheezes. Some chap took it upon him self to remove the “chip” from my training shoe, leaving me to trip over my now hanging lace as I teetered out of the arena and into obscurity.
