Murphy's Lore

This Christmas, expect a fight over the last slice of chocolate log.

- Sam Murphy

’TIS ONCE AGAIN THE SEASON of festive excess, and while I remain highly committed to becoming the best runner I can be, I will be gobbling mince pies and knocking back mulled wine with the best of them. And the worst. Non-running friends and acquaintances often express surprise when they see me eating cake or having a glass (or two) of wine. It’s as if they assume that because I’m a runner, it means I steer clear of ‘vices’ such as alcohol, butter icing and sugar.

Little do they know just how often the words ‘run’ and ‘cake’ turn up in the same sentence when runners are talking. And the fact that there are food-themed races, running clubs named after food, and a blog called Runs for Cake stands testament to the duo’s longstanding symbiotic relationship. For many runners, the ability to eat cake – or, far more importantly, enjoy eating cake or other kilojoule-laden treats without worrying too much about their waistline – is part of the reward for putting in the long kilometres.