It’s a brilliant word, isn’t it?
My mother used it a lot when I was a child. Similar terms include “faffing around” and doing things “arse around tit”. If she accused me of “fanny-arsing” she basically meant that I was going a very long winded way about things, more than likely because I was disorganised and ill-prepared.
NOTE: One should never find themselves fanny-arsing on race day. Ever.
My first ever half marathon is a prime example of the perils of disorganisation… I had no idea how I was getting to the race until a few days before, ended up crashing on a fellow racer/friend’s sofa, ate strange food that wasn’t mine, washed in a strange bathroom, and then drove aimlessly around town for hours before the race trying to locate the third friend and member of our running party whose phone battery had died. By the time we arrived at the start line of the Bath Half Marathon my tummy was in knots. I felt flustered and unfocused, and to top it all off my new socks just felt weird…
Another tale of disorganisation saw me running the Winchester 10K with a beast of a hangover (forgot about a friend’s birthday), finding a last minute lift to the race after discovering that trains were cancelled for planned engineering, and feeling nothing short of traumatised by time I crossed the finish line.
Take note, my friends: preparation is key. That is why my preparation for the Berlin Half Marathon has been executed so far with military precision.
Pre-race meal: planned (I’m staying with a friend, so I’m taking over her kitchen. She does not know this yet.)
Route to race HQ: mapped.
Race day outfit: finalised (And I’ve done two long runs in it to check for any potential chafing. Incidentally it is chafe-free.)
Do you know what? I think I’m about as fanny-arse free as possible.