The Unfinished Race: Part 1

When I lived in Taunton, I would often see a man I came to know as Alan walking along one of the main roads through the town. He was clearly mentally unwell but after seeing him for many years I heard a rumour about his past that seemed to make sense. Even if this rumour was not founded entirely on fact, it made me start to view Alan in a new light and the thought of how his life could have changed so radically sparked an idea for a film....

Tall and gaunt, Alan walked with his shoulders hunched and his arms crossed tightly across his chest. He stared straight ahead and his eyes reflected a pain and sadness that even he did not seem to understand. At any moment it seemed as if he might let out a cry of anguish because of some deep sorrow he kept hidden from the world. The grey macintosh he wore bearly reached his knees and its sleeves struggled to hide his long arms. The ends of his trouser legs had long since given up the fight to meet with his shoes and were now resigned to a life suspended above his ankles. His slow, mournful pace carried him mile upon mile along the same route every day, as if through his walking he might reconnect with a life he had once had but that had now been taken away from him.

But there was one aspect of Alan's appearance that was not in keeping with the rest. In contradiction to and standing out from his drab, ill fitting attire he wore a pair of white, pristine running shoes. It was as if from his ankles up Alan's appearance reflected his present status and served to let the world around him know that he didn't belong. But on his feet it seemed he wore a reminder of a secret he wanted to keep alive, a secret that his weary existence would never be allowed to destroy. Every now and again, like a sudden gust of wind scatters a pile of autumn leaves, this secret would cause him to break into a run, laboured at first, but increasing in speed and for a few metres it was as if Alan outran the pain and sorrow that held him captive.