Loch Ness Marathon

A year ago a Facebook friend posted some lovely photos of a race taking place in Scotland. Being the land of my birth, my curiosity was prickled and I went looked at the 'Loch Ness Marathon'  online and saw lovely sunny photos with happy faces plastered all over it. 'Could this be real, sun in Scotland?' I thought. After years of being 'rejected' by the London Marathon lottery I thought that this would be a nice option of a race and started working on a plan to get fellow runners on board. Five of us from South Africa and three UK-based ex South Africans all signed up.

The year slipped past and we found ourselves all ready and packed at OR Tambo Airport.

Standing at the flight check-in, I saw Comrades and running legend, Alan Robb, and I wondered out loud if he would be running the Loch Ness. I bounced over and blurted out my question to which his excited travelling companion said 'Yes, we are'! Chuffed to know that we would be running in the presence of greatness, we went through Customs and saw Alan talk to none other than Bruce Fordyce on the the other side of the strict customs officials. But later found out that the Comrades 'king' was going to Ireland instead.

We arrived in a sunny but cold Edinburgh and picked up our hired car. We had planned to stay with family as much as we could to soften the blow of our horrendous exchange rate so we made our way to our cousin who lovingly housed so many extra bodies in her home. She gave us a short tour of her pretty town and the following morning, we headed North to Inverness. The scenery was beautiful and green and the road got narrower, the further north, we drove. We turned off to our accommodation and arrived nice and early. We were staying at a hostel and it was interesting to see the different travellers that visit the the small town of Fort Augustus. 

We drove through to the finish area to register and had a quick walk round the small expo and tried not to gasp at the prices converted 21 times over. We spotted Alan Robb and Maritjie who had run the local 'parkrun' and we posed for a photograph.

I met up with a delightful friend who had travelled by motorbike to meet us, so we chatted in the rather chilly breeze before meeting up with my extended family. We met at a mall in the traffic-locked city and spent some time wandering around the shops before a leisurely walk along the River Ness. We joked at the amount of time we were spending on our feet unlike the day before Comrades when we try our best to 'rest up'. This was 'only a marathon'! 

Finally the morning of the race arrived and we all got ready in our SA flag tops and longs.

I was geared up with gloves, ear muffs and double layer clothing, taking no chance on this temperamental Scottish weather. We stepped outside the central heated rooms and gasped. The wind felt icy, but at least the sun was shining as we made our way for the bus to take us to the start. Two more of our 'party' joined us and we all climbed the bus eager for this delightful adventure to start. The bus climbed up some steep hills and dropped us off at the start. In the middle of nowhere there was speakers, toilets, huge trucks for our togbags, queues for free coffee, thousands of people rubbing and lubing and stripping down as the weather stayed kind to us. We huddled together in our designer dustbin bags to break the cold breeze and we saw Alan and Maritjie also in their SA flag tops. We chatted and felt honoured to be starting this unique race with a legend. 

The young pipe band started playing their bagpipes and walked through the throngs of people rousing up the heartstrings and leaving me teary eyed. This signalled that the race was about to start.

We were standing in the sub 4 hour starting pen, but it wasn't strictly controlled and everyone moved towards the start as the countdown began. The gun went off and we moved slowly forward. This is it. My first International Marathon start. Team SA ululated as we crossed the timing mats and our actual clock started. Our small group began to spread out and Marlene and I settled down to our own rhythm. We noticed how quiet the runners around us seemed and wondered if it was because we were still with the 'faster' group, but it turned out that is the way people run there. So Marlene and I chatted and took photos, greeted the few spectators, and generally had a great time. 

About half way, I started to feel two things differently from what I had expected. I was hungry and hot! This marathon only started at 10am and even though I had eaten a peanut butter sandwich on the bus, I began to crave real food. There was no coke on the road, only a sports drink and electrolyte sweets and the water was in bottles. I had my own supply of sweets but had forgotten biltong and crackers. The bottles proved quite useful due to the heat, and I made a point of keeping one in my pouch for the 3 miles in between tables. I contemplated taking off my top layer but then we would run through a shady area and I would feel a chill, so both layers stayed put. The views were magnificent when the trees cleared as we ran alongside Loch Ness for about 30km. The Urquhart castle ruins could be scene across the water and try I did to find 'Nessie' which had a £50 000 reward if spotted in a 'selfie'. But Nessie remained shy from our running eyes and the reward stayed sadly intact.

 At around 35km I saw my husband up ahead, walking upright. I was relieved as any leaning would have meant a problem, but he had suffered from cramps from early on and was walking rather briskly to the finish. We stayed with him, for the remainder of the distance, taking more selfies and greeting the spectators as we entered the city. With about 4km to go, the water table had a small packet of salty crackers and I asked if they could open them. They gave them to us and Marlene and I immediately wolfed them down, thankful for some solid food. We crossed the bridge of River Ness and waved as the 'Go South Africa' cheers gained momentum. All too soon we crossed the line in a rather slow time, but felt like we could still run on for longer. We collected our t-shirts, huge medals, soup and food and made our way over to our relieved family and shared our race stories. 

An absolutely fabulous race, perfect weather, beautiful scenery, no pain and great company, we can't ask for anything more. I will be back!

Och aye I will

Cathie

Speedy?

I know I said I wanted to get faster, but gosh it is hard work! We went out to run some hills. Sister Coach and bouncy hubby are fan-tastic supporters of mine and I know they mean well, but I could have used my arms to cause (their) bodily harm instead of bring my hands up to my chest!

On the uphill I was told ‘lift your knees’. At first I couldn’t hear them because my heartbeat was too noisy in my ears, but then they pointed to theirs and said ‘do this’ To which I cursed. They couldn’t hear me naturally as it was in internal curse, as I didn’t have the energy or breath to say it out loud. My one leg felt heavier than my sister’s whole body, I’m sure, mind you the other leg is a big as hubby too, I think! My chest was heaving and not in a sexy way but in that any-minute-now-I’m-going-to-collapse kind of way and I was beginning to reconsider my goals. Why don’t I take up chess rather? 

I wondered how the super athletes do it for so long and so fast but I took comfort knowing that we would be making our way home any moment. My heartbeat eventually returned to normal when we were one kilometre away from home. I knew I was feeling better because my chat was returning. I complained to hubby that I don’t feel fit at all. He said ‘it will get better’. But a part of me disagreed. I ran 80kms only a month ago, did I feel fit then? 

My body slips back into excuse mode very quickly and there is still that part of me that yearns for the couch. However I got a bit of speed going downhill and the clever part of me said ‘see, you are fitter than you think’.

We turned in at home and I was thankful that I can actually run, but was more thankful that we were done until sister Coach said ‘stretch’..... 

Hup, blerry hup

Winter Running

Running is a very strange phenomenon. Three weeks after Comrades, I found myself back on the road with a new race in mind. But three weeks of ‘rest’ means that my mind reverted back to ‘default’ thinking. Ten kilometres is far! But that is what my program says and hubby is my biggest driver at the moment, almost forcing me out on the road.  Ten kays. My inner voice starts screaming at me. ‘Are you mad? What the...’ Anyways, I recognise this tune so I keep my head down and plod. Everything felt heavy and sluggish. The cement bricks in my legs groaned and creaked as my body began to unwrinkle from the winter slumber.

Around 5 kays my breathing quickened and not because of a mean uphill. I needed the bathroom. NOW! We hadn’t gone out of our area but I knew we were still too far for a dash home, so I contemplated my options. Hubby offered the garage, but I remembered there is a pub closer to us. I told him of my plan and I think he saw the desperation in my eyes so we cut up towards the pub. We aren’t drinkers so going into the pub in the middle of any day was rather strange and all the men stopped their chit chat and watched as I ducked to the back for the toilet. Hubby stood a respectful distance away outside. I was too desperate to care. Nature’s call answered, we headed back out weaving through streets trying to make up the distance. It felt like we had been running for hours but in reality was only one (and a bit).

Sunday’s program said another 10kays, so I thought I would try out my running pants that I had bought for our upcoming marathon. Loch Ness marathon is in September in Scotland so I am preparing for any kind of weather, but long trouser running is new for me. I pulled them on and we set off. 30 metres down the road, my new trousers had their own plan. They had started to roll down my bum. Hubby and sister laughed and gave me a few options of rolling the waistband but this didn’t help. 50 meters away I realised that my 10km would be extremely long if I was fiddling with my trousers the whole way, so I turned back to change. Immediately lighter, my run felt better and my cement legs were a thing of the past. We set off in the mid-solstice sun to run through the ‘hood. It was a much nicer run for me than the day before and I actually felt good. So with a rest day today it’s back to the drawing board to find myself 'troosers' that stay on!

Wish me luck!

Comrades 4 and 3 quarters

The long weeks after Comrades. Sigh. Cranky, delightful, irritated and peaceful- yup that sums me up right now. The past 16 days have been rather trying for my hubby as he tries to figure out if I am really okay after my most recent Did Not Finish (DNF) on the 90th Comrades. I truly am - I think!

The race this year pointed out some serious internal beliefs that I am in the process of neatening up and hey, what better place to find them? On the (very) long road surrounded by other runners in the same space with no phone access, no internet access and no hubby driving a getaway car. 

The difference in this DNF as opposed to my previous one in 2010 was that I did not feel at all negative. Quite the opposite. I was charming all the spectators, barking at the dogs, and waving like royalty when the thought popped up. 'get into the bus, go to the tent and watch the winners come in while having lunch'. Huh? It felt like someone had flicked an internal switch. This was somewhere near the top of Fields hill, which is a misnomer, because 'fields' are usually flat. This hill ain't no molehill. I had managed to dodge away from my strong running partner as she shuffled up the hill looking over her shoulder to try find me, as I hid behind another walker. I did not want to affect her race. I took this strange foreign thought and started to work with it. Why is it here? There is no injury (loud panting aside) no real discomfort, and certainly only sunshine in my skull, so why this thought?

I then went through the many 'tests' that most long distance runners go through and the usual question is 'why am I here?' I looked around at the thousands of smiley, cheering spectators and knew that they are a big part for my being there. Then I considered that I actually enjoy it, and yet I found my eyes scanning the roads for those 'bailer buses'. I chatted to my usual 'helpers' in my heart and I then I spotted a familiar lean of an old running friend, unseen for the past five years. I felt delighted, although a little concerned to see Louis, who I found was struggling with stomach pain. I silently thanked Joe for this 'angel' he sent and then tried to encourage Louis to burp long and loud, which I demonstrated so he could get back to his faster pace. But he said he was 'paste'. I stayed with him for a long time and enjoyed just taking it easy, considering the ride back in the bus with company. The clock sped up as we slowed down and I felt that the halfway cut-off would give me my answer. 

The spectators thicken in places, and I was running behind a 'Westville' runner which made the local crowd roar and cheer specifically. I would complain as I ran past them shouting 'what about me' which usually made the spectators laugh in surprise. In one swollen crowd I spotted a familiar redhead, but before I got there, the small group screamed 'go Westville' to which I again lamented... 'what about me?' Ex cricket captain, gentleman, and hero of my moment, Shaun Pollock retorted in delight 'Go Lady Go'! I thanked him by name and thought 'wow, Joe you really are pulling out the stops'. Louis looked at me and said 'Wasn't that...' I grinned and nodded my head. 

We inched closer to Halfway and I caught another club mate who was having a really tough morning and was crying. I hugged her but couldn't really find the right words and suddenly my switch flew back and I started to run. Okay it was mostly downhill, but I began to motor. My thoughts kind went 'okay? let's just give it a try'. I didn't even say goodbye to Louis, I was so focussed. I crossed the cut-off point and wasn't really sure how I felt about another 40-odd kilometres to go. I managed to catch up with the dreaded 12 hour running bus that had passed me earlier, and I took comfort in the thought that I could just keep them in sight, I'll make it. So the next few hours were uphill and downhill, some drinking coke out of cupless bottles and keeping track of my thoughts. I knew my pace was still a tad slow, but I no longer panicked. I bought ice-cream, woke up the bored spectators and generally trundled along. 

I spotted some of the big (real)buses which I figured could have been my transport and I spotted some people I know inside them. I passed water through the windows and generally played with them for a while and as they drove further away I felt the switch begin to slide again. The dreaded 21km in 3 hour mark hit me and I started doing the maths in my head. Cutting it way too fine I thought. But kept trundling all the way to Polly Shorts. Another misnomer as it ain't short and polly is far too cheerful a word. I spotted many people I know and I saw some casualties and people began to lean. My head still felt clear but as the hill stretched out further for us, so did my hope for my fifth medal. I watched as people dashed to the last cut-off point and considered my options. I had to be absolutely sure that I was okay with this and I realised I was. The nice people on top shouted and encouraged us to 'do it' but I saw myself on TV afterwards and even then I could see that my mind was fine with missing it. Bam, gun off, roads closed, my race done. 

Quite a few runners ran round the back of where we were supposed to wait for the bus and continued on, but I knew their chances of medals were slim. We waited and waited as the sun sank lower to match many spirits around me. I still felt surprisingly okay as I borrowed a team mates phone to let hubby know I was fine to stop his worry. Eventually we got back to the stadium, got given a much needed space blanket and made my way through a very congested, limping crowd to find my friends. Their eyes checked me out to make sure I was fine and I could visibly see their relief when I tried to reassure them that I was.

I need to speed up. Simple as that. No excuses, no injuries, no nothing. If I want this, I need to speed up. The great thing? I know I can! 

Running 2015 BC

In 2008 I lined up for my first ever Comrades, a couple of weeks shy of my 42nd birthday. I was going to 'try the Comrades'. I had trained well, had lots of guidance, my good running friend was with me, I was all set to try. I never realised how much that mind angle would affect me. There is no 'try' in Comrades. I needed to 'do it' much like the advertising slogan says. Fast forward to current time and I am a few days away from my fifth(hopefully) medal!

As the years have ticked swiftly by, I realise that my life now has been divided into six month cycles. Before Comrades (BC) and After Comrades (AC). 2015's BC season has been rather stress-free. Last year I was coming back from foot issues and a non-start on Comrades in 2013 which happened to be really good timing for me to have an injury. The race that year was an 'Up-run" from Durban to Pietermaritsburg, and had one of the worst cases of 'berg wind' weather conditions on the races history. Intense heat accompanied by a dusty hellish wind made the road look more like a battlefield as people wearily tried their best. My last 'Up run' was in 2011 and I had a great day. I have realised that in my running career, missing out on this race makes me very determined to get back to taking part in it. There is nothing like it, so this year's training has made me really look forward to 'running the other way'. I did 3 Ultra-distances and ran 2 marathons, all rather sluggishly slow, but it all helps in the mental preparation for this race. The panic over my foot injuries is long gone and with regular exercise classes and massages I now know that it is not 'just about running the distance'.

BC running has been calm and enjoyable for the most part. My mileage is a little on the low side, but I am hoping to stay calm enough to do some mental training closer to race day. I am now realistic. Having run the race a few times I understand that there is no way I am suddenly going to start running a 6 min-a-kay speed if all my other running has been closer to 7 minutes. But I looked at my times from last year and saw that they were rather consistent, so I am hoping to be able to do something similar this year. I read all the talk about timing and marker boards on social media and a teeny part of me wants to join in the panic, but the other part of me knows.

On race day, nothing is the same, not the running, not the distance, not the pain, not the support, not the waterpoints, not the road, not your friends, nothing! Strangers stand for hours to catch a glimpse of me, to applaud me and offer me food, support and chirps. I don't get that on other races. I love catching the eye of a supporter and thank them, or give them a smile, or a thumbs up- depending on my energy level. They are the magic of this special day. With their bored dogs, yummy smelling braai's, loud blasting music, kids who would rather be anywhere else, hands red from clapping, eyes sore from trying to read our names and throats sore from screaming, these are the people I am coming to see. KZN throws the best party, and I am lucky enough to be able to run through the province to accept their invitation to make myself a better person!

The thing I dread now is the AC, once the afterglow has waned and I face the bleakness of a dry Winter. But now that I'm aware of this we try to get things in place to help us look forward. This year we are going to run the Loch Ness marathon in September. This takes place in my birth country and it promises to be a great run. It also means that I can't hibernate for too long and it will drag me out of my AC slumber and get me back on the road. But in the meantime it's 'hurry up an wait' for that long party on foot on Sunday!

Run, walk, run

Run, walk, run

In the wonder full sport of long distance running, I have learned many things. Things about people, life, exercise, and myself. I know that I continually surprise myself, and yet I get confused because my hubby doesn't understand me! I experienced a new aspect of myself this past weekend while doing a long run round a dam.

I have learned that if my body is resistant longer than 30 minutes, I should really pay attention. It started early in the year, when my friend, Marlene, told me of her running plan for Comrades. She mentioned the 50km 'Om die Dam' race, which I have had a love/hate relationship with. I only remember two runnings of it, but I have three medals, so I think the one run must've been so bad I have wiped it from my memory banks. I stammered out loud, 'No, I don't want to do that one' and let her tell me the rest of her races. I came home and frantically searched for a different option. Great! The same weekend there was a 52km in a nature reserve on the calendar. I looked it up and told Marlene, and we decided to register there. We had done this one only once before, and loved it, for it's toughness and beauty, so we were keen to get another chance to run it. A month went by and the training built up, and then the bad news altered our plans. The Suikerbos race was cancelled, but 'Om die Dam' had been kind enough to extend it's entries, so reluctantly we changed plans. The silent body screams were muffled out by the thoughts of needing to do the long distance, and I entered the race online. The weeks sped by and the week of the race was staring me in my face.

Hubby had asked me why I was actually doing these races if it made me so tense. I argued that I wasn't nervous, so he quietly asked 'Why are you pacing?' I stopped in my tracks and checked my body. No, I wasn't nervous, just heavy, and I couldn't figure out why. I normally analyse myself to the point of distraction, but this time I decided I better get an early night and force myself to sleep. Anyone who is a light sleeper knows that 'forcing sleep' does not work. But I did manage to dream, so I know I must've slept and around 3am I got up and got ready.

The traffic to this race brought our car to a standstill at 4.30am and knowing that there was only one road to the new 'Start' we sat and sighed in relative silence. We turned off the stalled traffic road and finally found the back road, which we recognised as part of the 50km route. We stumbled on the shops via a back road and quickly got out the car to look for bathrooms. Sister was doing the half marathon and I was secretly jealous of her as she watched my 6am dawning start. We had lost Marlene and Willem in the traffic, but I knew that they would catch me on the race so I relaxed and listened to all the chit-chat around me. I think I may have started out a little too quickly, but I felt physically okay and deliberately started to hold back when I saw some runners who I knew are faster than me. The new start route had a nasty little steep hill just to wake us up and get the heart beating faster, and then we turned onto the familiar part along the scenic dam and started our climb.

At around 10km's I started to feel odd, but not in a physical way, but in my head. Yes, I know there are degrees of 'oddness', but this felt different. I walked uphill, and was told to walk on the side. I silently cursed the man, as I always check over my shoulder before I suddenly stop and the runners had been far behind me when I stopped, so the internal growling ignited what was to become a very negative mind frame that I am not used to having and keeping for seven hours! Marlene and Willem passed me around 15km and I could see that they were both very strong, so I shooed them away before my negativity spilled out of my mouth. I saw another club member who runs a similar pace, but I realised something was very wrong when I didn't want to chat. I asked her how she was doing and she also complained a little, so I told her it's best for me to run behind her and not make her more negative.

At around 25 km's I was surprised that the distance markers seemed to be turning over very quickly, in spite of my reluctance, but this marker board meant the beginning of my worst part of the race, the Pelindaba road. I popped in at the kiosk and bought an ice lolly, hoping that the glorious orange ice would freeze the negativity in my brain. I know that mind blocks like this happen while running, but usually they shift. This one just got deeper and deeper in spite of my usual distractions and brain tricks. I noticed many runners sitting on the side of the road and I'd seen the full bailer buses go by. Surely we aren't supposed to feel this bad at such a short distance? I trundled on, silently cursing the dust turned up by very fast speeding cars, and cursed- out loud- the rushing trucks as they swooped by. This was not helping my mood. I started planning my escape route. This distracted my brain for some time and before I knew it, I had stopped to help a man who was cramping. I told him to gently walk with me (yes, I was a regular walker by now) so as to prevent the cramps from stalling him completely. I rummaged in my pouch for something to help while he told me that this was his birthday gift to himself as he turned 61 today. I laughed and said 'this is no birthday gift'. We chatted for a bit and got separated by the waterpoint so I mooched on, ready to hail down a bailer bus.

I stomped up the notorious 'Saartjie's Nek' where the tired helpers, now weary from waiting for us, where trying to juggle luke warm water sachets, and limited cups. Usually a very festive point in the road, even the helpers seemed ready for us to finish. They fed us food and some perseverant cheering to try lift my spirits almost helped. At the top I saw a familiar face who reminded me to look at the view. I was not charmed by the mountain glow, nor watery haze, I wanted the keys to his car! The trundle down the hill made me take stock of how I was feeling physically and I wasn't bad. Not sore, no pains, no niggles, just a huge reluctance to run and desire to get off my feet. I turned the corner towards the marathon mark and I saw more familiar faces WITH a car, but they were busy loading up so I shouted on the top of my voice 'KIMMMMYYYYYY, WAIT'. So they promptly did, but Sharon was having none of me jumping into their oh-so delightful-vehicle. She poured cold water down my neck which took my breath (and words) away and told me to keep moving. Shell-shocked I reverted to my plan A, my older sister at 'Ouma's' house. I knew the route goes right past their front garden, so I started to bargain. If her car was there, then I would definitely go in. I turned in and had another 'hosedown' by a kind resident supplying a sprinkler for us weary, hot runners. Then I saw the house and the car, and the locked front door. Argh, they must be out!! Almost tripping over my lip, my planning went into overdrive. I asked patient onlookers if they had a car, I asked a young parent to sell me their kids bmx bike, I asked for a lift on another bicycle, but no takers, only smiles.

At around 3 to go, I saw a familiar sight. Hubby had teased me saying he would come and park in the bushes and pick me up and then drop me off again and I had brushed that off laughingly, the night before. Now our rather rare, white car came into my vision and my heart sang as I was about to shout 'loveeeee' and I realised that it was the right car, wrong registration number. I could almost hear the universe laughing at me sarcastically, as I can be a touch sarcastic sometimes and the quiet reasoned voice in my head went 'you get what you give out'. By this time, I was really fed up so started to try run again. At less than two to go, I saw a young chap start to lie down on the pavement and when I reached him, I asked him what was wrong. He complained 'pain' but I told him 'no ways, your people will worry, just walk slowly' and pulled him up. He was complaining that he didn't want to miss the cut-off by seconds to which I laughed and told him we were way too slow to miss it by seconds. Once on his feet I told him to keep gently moving, and to stop stressing when I saw another chap plan a nap on the pavement. Once again, I complained, telling him that his people will worry and he complained about cramp. I argued that we were less than 1 km away so he just had to keep slowly walking, so I told the two men that they were now responsible for each other and they just had to walk slowly back. I started running off, when I remembered I had salt in my pouch, so I gave it to him and said take this for your cramp. I know the wonders of the placebo effect and sometimes that is all a person needs to just get through the moment. I turned the corner and finally my heart beamed, the finish line, right there! Spectators told me they had extended the cut-off time, but I didn't really care, I just wanted it done.

The good thing about this training run is that in spite of my negativity, my head, sugar and BP stayed clear and level, so I wasn't feeling dizzy or ill, just negative and I started to understand once again that the power of the mind can affect a person's 'game'. I put it down to a very bad run, but glad it happened on a day that didn't 'matter, and now I can thankfully say that the only way I will see 'Om die Dam' again is by car!

A wee 12 hour jog with my comrades

2am I wake up with a start. I am surprised that the alarm woke me because that meant I was sleeping. I blink in the darkness a couple of times and then smile.  ‘It’s here-finally’

I jump out of bed and start the day with a mix of excitement and trepidation. It feels like the morning of Christmas, except I had a two year wait for my present. We bundle into the hired car following the usual line of cars into Durban towards the parking garage. Sister Debbie realised that she had left her coffee and sandwiches behind so I give her half of mine. She must be nervous as she never forgets anything. Our group of five queue for the bus where we get split up. Silence falls upon us in the darkness as we all turn inward thinking about the long journey on foot. I notice the starry sky and the crescent moon looking cheerfully down on us. I hear Debbie sighing deeply and I look round and realise that she is stressing big time. It’s her tenth Comrades, a special one, but her stress is her taped-up knee. A ligament tear 9 months ago has rocked her usual easy running and after months of rehab today is the big test. I smile and she realises that she has sighed out loud again.  

The bus thunders into Pietermaritsburg and inches it’s way through crazy cars and blocked off streets to spit us out into the hustle of the start. Music blares through the city and people are everywhere. I am surprised that it feels so warm. The five of us line up in a dark side street for the portaloos and queue jumpers get shouted at from our desperate, patient line. Nature calls answered we quickly say our goodbyes and make our way to our respective seeding pens. Marlene, Jade, Cerlest and I have a long walk through the throngs of people to our pen at the back. I realise that we don’t have a long wait before the start so I switch on my watch. The crowd surges forward as the seeding pens get dropped and the TV lights feel closer to us slower folk at the back. Shosholoza starts playing loudly over the PA system and the hair on my arms prickles up in emotion. The crowd begins to sing together and some sway to the music. The national anthem pushes the bladder closer to my eye and then Chariots of Fire makes many a tear spill onto nervous faces. The famous cockerel crows and everybody raises their arms to start their watches. The gun goes, the crowd cheers and we wait. After a minute there is a slight movement and we start our patient shuffle towards the City Hall. Eight minutes later we are on the beeping starting line and I look back and see the sweeper car uncomfortably close to us. Spotting the TV cameras I tell novice Jade to wave and we wave our way through spectators who are cheering and whistling us through.

The streets of the city seem brighter this year and I am grateful that the weather is so mild compared to my last run. We turn into a side street and I hear the sounds of a bagpiper which pulls my tears again. Three barefoot runners pass us and I wonder how their feet will last over the long road. People begin to strip off the top layer of clothing as we make our way out of the city. I decide to keep my gloves on for the colder hills of Polly Shorts. I read the paper numbers of the runners in front of us and I tell Jade that it distracts me. We reach the cold pockets sooner than I expected and although colder, it was still mild. We see the long river of runners as the road begins to stretch out ahead and the sunrise creates the most magnificent tapestry of colours with the cloud as it inches it’s way into this first day of June.

The distance markers showed up quicker and I was pleasantly surprised by how good I felt. Jade was staying with us and Marlene seems strangely quiet. After un-layering our outer tops I realise that Jade had let us out of her sight. Marlene and I chatted as we neared the first of the timing mats and waved nicely for the cameras. Not long after that, she told me to go on as she felt I was too strong. I held back for a while and then remembered that she has great finishing power so I trundled ahead greeting lots of different club members along the way.

I walked the uphills and trundled the downhills towards the halfway timing mat and had a slight panic as I was a few minutes behind our ideal time. The festive atmosphere lifted my spirits and I spotted some familiar faces which helped morale as I was about to start the next marathon within this marathon. I walked briskly up the hill noticing how the seeding numbers had become diluted with faster runners with their plans radically shifted. I got to Arthur’s Seat quicker than I remembered and I realised I didn’t have a flower. I picked up a flower stem from the ground and went over to the hole in the wall and looked at my watch. It was still morning after all. I greeted ‘him’ and jogged towards the Wall of Remembrance and thought about absent runners in spirit. One runner was thanking his Comrades before him for starting this race and I nodded my head knowing that those few runners must be immensely proud of what this race has become.

Support began to thicken as we neared the towns and I was amazed at the throngs of people patiently sitting and cheering. Music, braai’s, dogs, blankets, chairs, people of all ages helped me keep my pace. Some young girls had colourful wigs and I complimented them on their ‘cool’ hair. I curtsied before two older ladies with crowns on and commented on how good an older crowd looked sitting quietly in their chairs. A young man balanced on a high cement pole for a better look out and I commented that he would have sore legs tomorrow. He laughed and said

‘Not as sore as yours will be’.

I thought about that but was feeling physically alright. My mouth felt dry, but I knew it wasn’t thirst as the water tables were well stocked so I decided I needed some ice. It was humid but cloudy which mentally felt better without the sun tearing into my pale skin. I found some ice and crunched gratefully through the crowds of cheering people. The miles ticked by and I crossed the point where I had bailed in 2010 and silently I thought ‘not today- you are not’ and tipped my hat with a smile. Crossing the highway I knew that the Nedbank Green Mile lay around the corner and I was excited to be feeling so good at this point. I made the young ‘Elvis’ run a stretch with me and posed for some photos with some KISS lookalikes, the pipe bands were on a break but the dj’s played on. There were huge puppets that were so cool and I danced along the mile with a big smile on my face. I  felt sad that they couldn’t stay with me the rest of the way to Durban. We spilled onto the quieter highway and suddenly I felt lonely. Surrounded by runners I realised I needed to look for inspiration so I started reading names again and making a conscious effort to see and greet every supporter on this stretch of road. I started thinking about ice lollies and that became my focus. After three sellers not having an orange ice-lolly I almost gave up on the idea when I heard a far-off bell ring. I started shouting ‘Ola’ and barged through the supporters to the beautiful lady who had a selection that were R10- cheaper. Music to my ears and I pulled off the wrapper with delight as a spectator shouted ‘enjoy your ice-cream Cathie’. My mouth was full so I gave him a cheerful thumbs up! I walked my way through my lolly enjoying every icy moment before the trundle started again. I was hoping to hang onto some of it for my walk down the big Field’s Hill, but I was too far away.

I reached the hill and started to plan how I was going to do this. It is steep and the camber tilts rather harshly. So I decided to run until I could feel my inner brakes working too much and then walk. I walked a lot this way but I knew I had plenty time so I didn’t need to panic. Getting to the bottom I heard a noisier ‘Cathie’ than usual and I saw it was Jade. I was confused as she wore 'regular' clothes and only after I turned the corner did it really sink it who it was. I felt sad for a moment but she had looked so cheerful I thought she must be okay so I continued my way through a noisy Pinetown. On leaving the town I hit a bit of a mental slump. I walked, looked about, sighed and fiddled with my belt as a means of distraction. I heard a ‘bus’ behind me and panicked a little, looking at my watch trying to figure out all the numbers. A fellow runner calmed me down by saying this group were aiming for 11h30 so I relaxed knowing that I was okay. The bus sang behind me for a while and at the one water point I deliberately let them pass me. I ran behind alongside a Brazilian runner in a Santa suit. This distracted me as the crowd loved him so I let him entertain my mind for a while. At one stage ‘Batman’ appeared and I know it sounds like I was hallucinating but some people make their Comrades journey even tougher by running in fancy costumes. The little kids squealed with delight and I stayed between the two costume runners for quite a while. My head had cleared as Durban inched closer and the crowds thickened again with their support, food, drinks and smiles.

With about 5km to go I caughtup with the ‘bus’ again and I wondered what to do. I was running faster than they were but there was singing and they got bigger cheering from the crowds and the water points weren’t as crucial  so I decided to hang onto the back of them. It was easier to let them decide when to walk and when to run and when to breathe so I relaxed and joined in. The last four km board passed by and I thought back to a few short months when 4km felt so far and so impossible after my own injuries of neuromas and fascitis. I thought about my marathons that brought me to this point. Jackie, Arthur and Wally and all the distances in between and one part of me wondered how on earth I did it. The streets of Durban felt long as the floodlights of the stadium teased me from the left. I was considering leaving the bus and running on ahead but decided against it and to be patient. Finally- the last stretch of road and crowds cheered enthusiastically as our big group ran past. The sunset lit the sky spectacularly once more and it reminded me of the sunrise 11 hours before. We turned into the stadium and I held back wanting my sister to spot me in amongst the huge crowd to stop her stressing. I was here! The stadium roared at the sight of the bus and I spotted my sister in the stand, we both jumped excitedly and I waved royally as I ran past. I turned the last stretch and danced a little. Yippee, I was done, fourth medal at last! I spotted the red TV camera light and I blew a kiss into the lens not knowing if it was ‘live’ or on a commercial. Unbeknown to me, family overseas were ‘live’ streaming and they spotted me, so too, did friends and family nationally.

I walked towards the drinks area and my head started to swim. I made the mistake of sitting down and sip some soup to stop the dizziness when now I realise I should have kept walking. As thousands of runners finished, thousands more lined up to meet their loved ones and walking anywhere was difficult. I had the togbag sticker and I contemplated how I was going to get there. Eventually a fresh-faced Debbie found me and she saved me the dizzy confusion of finding the bag. It took me ages to get across the bridge as I lay down on the grass for a while to get ‘grounded’ and found a ‘tums’ in my bag to settle the nausea. With my medal swinging proudly round my neck I made my way to my friends. Sadly we were greeted by some tragic news that Cerlest’s brother had died in the early hours of the morning in an accident. The remainder of the evening we sat sombrely as Jade arranged Cerlest to fly straight home. With bittersweet thoughts Debbie and I chatted in bed that night talking about our experiences. She had done marvellously and her knee had held up fine to clinch her 10th medal and permanent number. Marlene had gotten into a bailer bus in Pinetown with other runners and they picked up regret on the way to the stadium. Jade was happy but had a new understanding of what is required of her for next year. I was pleased with my own achievement. My goal was a comfortable finish, and I ended up having a marvellous day on this spectacular road. All in all it is an honour to be able to run this, a privilege that not everyone gets, but that every person should do at least once in their life. A day that is so hard to watch form the sidelines and is so much nicer to take part.

I can’t wait for next year! 

A tribute to my sister, coach... friend

I am blessed to come from a large family and I have an abundance of older siblings. I only have one ‘little’ sister, Debbie, and I am honoured to call her sister. As siblings, there was a love-hate relationship and for most of my young years it was more of a ‘hate’ or at least- despise. She was untidy, young, and whiny and I was responsible for her. We shared a bedroom and I had created an imaginary line that she dare not cross into my space. Yet, when she started school I remember bursting with pride as she raced the 60m sprint into first place with plaited pigtails flying in the wind. The gap was so large between us that I was off and out of home as she entered secondary school, I was so keen to set off into the big wide world. I was oblivious to most of her teen years, looking after my own adventures. But her teens came to an abrupt end when Mum died when she was only 19. The whole family stopped and then, cracked wide open, in the uncertainty of grief. Everyone scrambled looking for a place to hide from the pain, to hope that the gap would close quickly but knowing that our family was forever changed.

Debbie had her own little family with the unexpected gift of her baby daughter and she sought refuge in a different town where my Mum’s younger sister lived. Somehow she forged her own way and developed her new role as ‘mum’ in a very dynamic way. A strict mum, Kelsey was loved and encouraged by the love that she got from all in the larger, scarred family. A few years later they moved back to my town and I watched in quiet admiration as she worked, cared for, and raised her daughter without much help. One afternoon after Debbie had collected a very sickly, chicken pox toddler from our house, my husband, Nic, asked why I hadn’t offered them to stay over so I could support Debbie. I hadn’t thought of it but in the quiet of the night I went over his words and tried to imagine what it must be like being the responsible adult on my own.

Ten years ago Debbie started on a new journey, to start running. Naturally sporty and athletic with a determination that I never seemed to have, she joined a running club and started running mad distances and got fitter and fitter. She wanted to make one of her dreams come true, to run the Comrades marathon. So after many blisters and aching toes she registered and got herself qualified for her first race. There was no way I was letting her go down to Comrades by herself so our older sister, Mary, Kelsey and I booked into the special Comrades Train tour to support her. It was so exciting yet so nerve-wracking as our cellphone system didn’t tell us where she was on the road and only after an overseas sister had tracked her, did we know she had passed halfway. With 20 minutes before cut-off, her smiling face entered the stadium waving and we cried tears of relief and joy at her success. I remember shaking my head at how crazy she was at running so far but my chest soared with pride at my ‘little’ sister for being so strong.

Her next Comrades run, which was a ‘surprise’ to us all - as she said she was only going to do it once, she had changed clubs and found a lovely group of people to run with. She trained hard and seemed to glow and that year she set off on the club bus to run her second successful race. Nic and I picked her up from the bus stop where so many people were limping and groaning climbing down the stairs. A lovely father figure had taken Debbie under his wing and they had a tight group of three who ran together, joked together and succeeded together. Joe was one of a kind gentleman who seemed to be all heart and looked after all of us but he had a soft spot for Debbie and Alan and I must confess to sometimes feeling envy as they ran on ahead laughing and making long distances look like a walk in the park. Debbie’s third Comrades was joyful as she crossed the line with Joe, Alan and the others from their special group. I watched it from across the globe tracking them on the computer as red blimps on the screen. Debbie had shown that on Comrades she could run past a lot of the speedier men in the club and the further she went- the happier she seemed. Her fourth Comrades turned out to be my first attempt. After years of believing that I was not able, I attempted running and surprised myself at how much I liked it. After finishing her race, Nic and Debbie stood nervously at the finish line waiting for me who never arrived. They were heartbroken for me, I was delighted, I had run from Durban to Pietermaritsburg, more than I had ever run in my entire life on one race and I was smitten. The next Comrades race was bittersweet. Our mentor and friend, Joe had died and his absence was felt everywhere. This was Debbie’s fifth successful run and my first medal. We could feel Joe’s pride in our own hearts and his voice in our head.

The following year we had changed clubs and things were a lot different but in a good way. Joe was still missed but running helped us heal. Debbie showed how strong she was by continuing her marvellous running and making it  look so easy at the same time helping other runners. She is able to sum up a runner and their style and recommends what distances, training and speeds to do and for me, she has been uncannily right. Kelsey had developed into a feisty independent teen who no longer came on all the races. I marvelled at how well this little family unit had done and was very grateful that I could use my ‘coach's’ advice to great success.

The Comrades medals ticked off one by one and even foot surgery didn’t affect her success as she crossed the line for the eighth time. Her successful ninth Comrades was recorded as one of the worst races due to weather conditions being so hot. Over a third of the field did not finish yet Debbie jogged past an injured, non-participating me, looking like a million dollars. At the finish line she looked like she had ran a completely different race to everyone else and finished with her best time ever. The stage was set for an even better tenth Comrades!

In a moment, people’s life can change dramatically and Debbie’s took a sudden twist. Kelsey was about to leave for a new life in the UK and Debbie was asked to play netball for her work’s social team. An excellent netball player, she hesitated, afraid of possible injury. The hesitation wasted, she went on the court. Not even five minutes later, there was a strange sound and she was on the ground. A torn ligament in her knee. We both looked at each other in horror when she couldn’t pull herself off the ground. In that split second we both had images of her tenth Comrades and an impossible future with no running in it. After a visit to a surgeon who confirmed the anterior cruciate ligament tear, she was filled with new hope. The surgeon had recommended rehabilitation and a conservative approach which she duly did. With more patience than I ever would have, she stuck to her therapy regime and got more and more positive about herself and her life. Gingerly, she started running 7 months before the important Comrades. Building up distance. as well as muscles, I was impressed by her determination to not let this setback affect her. At the same time she developed a injury-comeback training program  for me and when I saw how realistic it was, I knew that I could just maybe, join her running Comrades.

The months and kilometres ticked by and the big day arrived. Nervous to the core, she sighed deep breaths on the bus journey to the start, anxious to get started and to see what the day would bring. I had a deep knowing that she would do fabulously, after all, this is her race, the race where the further she goes- the more she glows. I set off from the back of the race but I too could feel that this medal was mine. As I ran onto the final lap at the stadium I saw her in the grandstand jumping for joy that I had beaten the clock. I knew she had done it, but I no idea she would have run it so well. She broke her ten hour barrier convincingly and had had a fabulous run with very little pain. Her permanent ‘green’ number is hers and so well earned. Ten years of hard work, joy, pain, shock, grief, patience, perseverance, delight, fun – much like life.

Debbie has the green number for life, in life and with life! So proud of my 'lil sis'!

Twenty Fourteen!

I haven't written much about my running this past while, because there hadn't been much running. When I first started running, I started writing, and this had a reciprocal effect almost to the point that I needed the motion of running to get my creative side flowing.  Coming out of an injury-plagued spell I am back on the road and feeling compelled to write.

Two months in the new year and I am overjoyed to be back on the road. I have a training plan and my big goal is Comrades on 1st June. The way back to fitness has been tough because I sat and sulked for a long time without realising it and I think I may have gotten grumpier, but you will have to ask hubby that. The more I sat, the heavier I got and I left all my fitness behind. In December I resumed a plod that is so much like my early running days and the road felt like a stranger to me.

My face reddened, veins bulged, sweat poured, heart pounded but little by little I got better. I am still unable to talk for the first three km of any run, which for me is so distressing. I have perfectly good conversations going in my head, but they can't get past the thickening tongue and bursting lungs. Some of my runs have been nicer than others and yesterday I had a really pleasant one that urged me back to the keyboard.

The famous tough Pirates half marathon takes runners across a part of Jo'burg and up part of the ridge towards a water tower in Northcliff. The hills here are very testing and having done it many times before, I knew that it would not serve me in any way other than to deter me, so I knew I would not run it. However my friends were all lining up and our club was present so I decided I would go along and do my own run around the race grounds. I set off a half hour before the official race start and took my own route. I had a fairly good idea of the surrounds so I weaved in and out of quiet streets and made my way towards the Emmerentia dam. The air was crisp but full of promise of heat and I was grateful for the still shady streets as the sloping angles made my heart rate rise. I found the dam quicker than I expected and admired the geese, birds, canoeist and solitary swimmer on the water. Cyclists were out and about and everyone seemed to be in a fine mood. The Botanical gardens beckoned me in and early morning walkers crossed the lovely pathways. I neared the waters edge and the sun rays spilled through a thick shady tree, the air golden with the evening moisture I stopped and caught my breath and felt the glow inside. I trotted off again, smiling inside when I saw a huge 'no dogs beyond this point' sign and ten steps beyond two boisterous pups played oblivious to their transgression. Further into the gardens, the 'dog zone' was a pleasure to see with ball playing hounds of all shapes and sizes which reminded me of the dog area in Central Park. Making mental notes to bring our dogs here one day I raced a Border Collie youngster for ten steps until he realised I wasn't his owner. The kilometers ticked merrily by as I was so distracted in this great park. I knew I would have to start making my way back so headed back out onto the road and managed to run the race route for the last two kilometers. The water tables were still being stocked up and bored marshalls sat waiting for some action. The sky opened up while the shadows shrunk and I was grateful that I would be long finished by the time the sun really hit this stretch of road. Turning back into the race grounds I was amazed by how quiet the area was. Thousands of cars sat, almost as if they were watching and waiting for their owners and I realised that I never see the car park like this when I finish races. I had to make up a little bit of distance so I ran the whole stretch of the road and then turned back towards my car. I felt surprisingly good and delighted to know that this good feeling was after the second weekend of back-to-back 10km's. Next weekend I increase the distance to 15km and I'm looking forward to clearing out the cobwebs of the 'double digit' running.
It's great to be back!

Slogrun

No matter how old, young, skilled, the shape, running history, natural talent or ability, all runners struggle with the same one distance. From zero to 5km. New runners, experienced runners coming back from injury all share the same 'symptoms'.

The first symptom is lethargy. The initial few steps are fine but after 100 steps the 'tharge' kicks in. By this time the chest has started a small wail which builds up to a crescendo of burning wheeze almost forcing a stop. The legs start to ache and burn while side stitches make an appearance. These symptoms eventually go away and disappear without the 'arrival fanfare' but can easily return after a long absence of running.

I made my re-acquaintance tonight with all of them as each cell, fibre and molecule squealed, rattled, shook, wobbled, groaned, moaned and cursed at me but there was a deep quietness of knowing that it will be fine (just not right now Anita!). Usually on completion my head says 'see, it wasn't that bad'. But while my gentle jigging looked calm on the surface, inside my debate team were arguing. Luckily I have a bank of running history and I know I can indeed get through this, just don't rush it! This means - don't try and run as fast I think I should, don't try and impress the coaches at the side of the track (hahaha), don't try and 'dice' the lithe schoolkids and don't try and race the excited doberman all along his long running area fence. Just listen.

I am a 'feeling' runner in that I don't really time myself and go into stats etc, primarily because I can't quite figure out my watch and I have enough to think about while running. So I listen.. to my body, my feelings and my mind. Tonight I could hear a flapping noise, a very loud heartbeat and my inner couch yelling at me to return home immediately. After five months of 'forced' non-running I finally realised 'I NEED to run'. To diffuse, detach, engage, confuse, withdraw, breathe, stop, walk, laugh, moan and sweat. Oh wait, I am a lady - perspire. Something that I had forgotten about was mucus. Yup. My recent asthmatic chest flare up has resulted from not running, and I need to stretch my lungs, but my lungs don't like stretching either. As a teen running Cross Country I was very skilled in controlled spitting and my aim was very good -then! Now I am a lady  AND  a lady with mucus. This proved a distraction for a while and I won't gross you out even more, but my skill did improve.
Oh, the glamour!

To add to the pressure on my chest the sky had gathered every winter cloud together and the air was heavy and warm. I thought it was all my angels gathering together to watch this pink, slow moving spectacle return to the tar. The nearby veldfire or two also made my chest tighten. Then I realised it was my head trying to prevent me from running because I was afraid. I was scared of 5km! Scared of foot pain, body pain and all sorts. When I realised that, I relaxed. Did all my old tricks of connecting my ring finger to my thumb for my lung meridian and then looked around my surroundings. Apart from one lampole (ok, maybe 2) on the mountain turn around point (ok, maybe a small incline), I managed to keep at it all the way. The freewheel back into the stadium almost had me speed, but I held back and listened. The flapping sound was louder and I remembered that it was not any invisible runner trying to catch me but a now heavily sweat-drenched clump of hair clattering on my hat! I laughed but then there were more flapping noises that didn't match my pace. Three young school kids glided past me cutting the last corner as they headed back to their proud coaches. One of them even had the audacity to run barefoot!

With a huge delight I found the 'stop' button on my watch with 38minutes logged! Three track laps, four road kays. Red faced cheeks, burnt out chest, sweaty head but very proud heart!

Secunda running!

I managed to qualify for this year's Comrades marathon by finishing my marathon on Saturday with 5 minutes to spare. We have to run a standard 42.2km marathon under 5 hours in order to run the 89km distance in June. Two weekends ago, I did the 42km distance but was way over time and spirit. I was getting concerned about my running 'mojo' as my sugar levels had not settled and I ended up with an extremely sore left foot due to inflammation of the tendons. 

Training during the week had ground to a halt as I visited my physio for some treatment and decided to pay a visit to the 'running doctor' for a cortizone injection. It seemed to do the trick and by Friday I was walking like a normal person. Friday afternoon we realised that we may not be doing the Saturday marathon after all, as we saw that entries were closing that day. Some quick emails and phone calls made sure that we would be getting an entry into the Secunda marathon early the next morning. 

After a dismal attempt at sleeping till 2.30am I got up and readied myself still very pleased that my foot felt good. We met up with Marlene and Cerlest and headed east. The red slip of the new moon hung strangely on the horizon and in the distance were flashes of lightning. I announced to the ladies that this morning's run was 'everyone for themself' I didn't want a repeat performance of Marlene waiting for me on the long drawn out kilometers. We got to Secunda quickly and waited for the 6am start, eating breakfast in the car and watching the sky lighten with heavy rain cloud looming. I had a thought that this is the area that I would see a pet pig, and I laughed at the odd thought that crossed my mind!

A large field of runners lined up for the marathon and this race is rather unique in that there is the option of doing the full marathon in the morning, then a lunchtime half marathon followed by a late afternoon 10km. We had entered for the marathon but Cerlest had taken the option of doing the 21km if she felt up to it. I shook my head being very content with getting my week's mileage in one run.

The gun went off and we set out on a very dark road due to the rain cloud and at around the 2km mark, the rain played with us. It was rather refreshing and not too heavy so we sucked it up, knowing that the alternative of heat could begin at any moment. My foot started to twing at me and and I silently cursed. At the first water table I stopped to take a pain pill and Marlene and Cerlest kept moving, I waved them on, when I saw Marlene straining her neck to catch a glimpse of me. The pain pill took a long time to work and my mental powers were straining themselves to come up with and fight excuses for me not going the whole distance. At around 8km I settled into a rhythm and began to notice my surroundings. The rain had stopped but cool cloud still protected us. The route weaved in the suburbs but not too distractingly as the runners were seen far away from our turning points. 

The water tables were excellent and support from the locals in their gardens and driveways was fantastic, all greeting us and willing us on. Traffic was very patient as they waited for us plodders to cross intersections while they were on their way to work. Being in a different district it was interesting to see how far runners travel. People from Richard's Bay, Phalaborwa, Free State made for good diversions. Lovely open gardens with a huge variety of dogs kept me distracted from the gnawing pain in my foot. At around 18km I seemed to have a small stretch of road to myself and I noticed how loud the pigeons were. My offbeat footsteps and the cooing made me smile. Garden gnomes and cement ornaments are a common sight in this town and I caught a glimpse of a rather unusual colour, patchy green, then I realised it moved. I stopped running and watched. Almost the same size as the Chevy Spark behind it, stood a glorious fat pig! I gasped and laughed and watched the three dogs give the pig respectful distance. I pointed it out to myself and hoped that the runners a little behind me would see it, as this was a lovely sight. I set off again and moments later heard the runners behind remark on the big pig! 

What a lovely morning it was turning out to be, if only my foot heard my nice energy and stopped moaning. My time was going good in spite of the pain and this kept my confidence up. The waterpoints got better and better the further we went along, and the food choices were mind boggling. Biscuits, chips, sweets, chocolates, easter eggs, potatoes, bananas, worsies, oranges, condensed milk in a syringe, grapes and a whole lot more made my eyes wide. I felt like a kid at a great party. The drinking water was ice cold and as the rain clouds melted away the sun began to show us what it is made of. 

With about 9 km to go I was giving a leaning walker some encouragement, when my foot roared with pain. I forced myself to keep shuffling and rummaged in my pouch for more 'drugs'. So close and with enough time I thought. Apart from the foot everything else felt good. My sugar behaved, my pace felt right, so I started my internal debate about why I should keep going and just get the qualifier over. (Except my inner dialogue was not this polite!)
Single figures is always comforting and I just kept an older man in my sight as we shuffled past each other time and time again, knowing that he would be measuring the time properly. I don't like to get too worked up on the timing, so I think of an overview and then distract myself. 

Near a school was a small water table with a big sign saying 'Marco's water table- pop in for a visit'. He was a young man who was dishing out refreshments with a great spirit. Dad stood proudly in the background as us weary travellers trundled past on tired foot. The last few kilometers looked like a downhill, which helped the mind and I found myself shuffling past a foreign lady who had passed me very early on in the race. I congratulated her as by now it was 'in the bag' as I overtook her before the last corner. The PA announcer there was telling us to 'put foot' as we only had 8 minutes left. I looked nervously at my watch and saw that we had 12 minutes. It doesn't sound like much, but three minutes at this stage means a huge difference in stress levels. Breaking it down, I felt relief that my foot had behaved and held out and that I had managed to keep myself from sliding down that tricky slope of negative self-talk. Sister and friends cheered me in, and I gratefully crossed the line with 5 minutes spare. 

We relaxed at the lovely venue and I even went for a physio rub at the medic tent which was great before we set off home. A fantastic day out and everyone seemed to enjoy their morning in the 'kosmos' land. I am sure this race will see us again next year!

Triangular running

I really seem to be only get my mileage up on weekend runs. Last weekend I slogged my way through the Township marathon and finished with one of my worst marathon times ever, another free ice-cream and more real estate lodged in my knee after a fall. Wait, it must have looked more like a somersault by the strange location of bruises. No real damage done other than my ego, once again, after one of those deep guttural roars on my way down to mother earth.

I picked up a very sore heel/foot though and after a visit to my physio she said it was because of my calfffff. (That's the kind of noises as I was making as she kneaded her spindley fingers to demonstrate.)

She told me not to run, and she almost shook her head when I told her I wanted to do a half marathon on Sunday. I am beginning to realise that it is indeed March and my distance logbook looks like it is on some kind of diet. I think she saw the panic in my eyes and gave me exercises to do. I rolled my foot and did what I was instructed and agreed to travel down to the Vaal for Sunday's race.

Promptly waking up a full hour before I needed to, is getting rather annoying, so I eventually turned off the unrung alarm and went in search of breakfast. Ouch, ouch, ouch. My foot seems to be at it's worst when getting up after a time of sitting, or lying and I thought it was plantar fascitis, which I self diagnosed years ago. Hobbling around excited dogs, my 'awake' when supposed to be, goes much faster then when I lie there willing sleep to visit.

We set off at 4am and immediately found a long red tail line of traffic on the highway. Sister and I looked at each other.

'Are these all runners?'

Turned out they were. The traffic flowed a little slower near my old home town and we contemplated some back roads. We stuck to the usual route and got there with plenty of time for pit-stop, entries and chats. I was actually feeling very excited for this half marathon.

I have a love-hate relationship with this marathon. It was my first ever 42km, my best time and my worst time. Last year was one of my worst. So this trip down memory lane had memories that included my running past, and not just my school days.

The gun went off and I was watch and running-partner free. Marlene and Cerlest had other weekend obligations so it was strange not having the weekly dose of catch-up chatter to distract me for the early kilometres. I did see another running friend who is looking fabulous and she was doing the marathon, and though sad to see her leave me, was delighted knowing that I wasn't putting myself through the torture of the marathon.

I decided to see if if I could only walk at the water points which are every three km, just to see if I could. This is a very flat route, so my usual 'resting' up a hill wouldn't be my excuse here and I needed to get some running confidence back. Apart from one 'hill' lampost I stuck to my plan, even though my foot was squealing at me to walk. 

Knowing the area very well, meant that my grey matter was open to any memories that popped in as I jogged past the 'Hills, Lows, Lucas' cafe; Gerald Bosch; Murphys and then directly up to my old street. We had a long stretch of field or veld behind our childhood house, which may have been farmland, and being Vereeniging and very dry I would never have considered the area pretty. On this morning however, sunrays streamed through cloud remnants over the moisture haze just above the golden land and I felt nostalgic. A forgotten memory of newspaper and bamboo kite crashing flowed in, and I laughed at how much I had to run to will the heavy thing into the air. I saw the power lines in this stretch and laughed as my kite could never have reached them. 

I slowed down as I passed our old home and as usual, thoughts turned to mum who died there, now so many years ago. I'm sure I heard her cough gently as I thought that maybe the prettiness of the light was her 'doing'. 

All the way up the dreaded long road that I walked to school and memories of crunchy toes due to the freezing mornings hideously teased my memories. I passed the house I did my only ever 'illegal' bunking and smiled at the memory of Mrs Els telling us knowingly that she had seen us in our school uniforms walking there, the day before. We crossed the 'busy' road to our school where there was a water point and took a little stroll. The biggest hill was up ahead, and as I trundled up it memories of cross-country routes now fully' grown up' where shown to me. The next section of town, I only know from my running days as it was still being built when I left town 30 years ago. Did I just say 30 years???

As we ran past the lovely reserve, next to the river, I spotted buck. And to my delight some of the Springbok started springing. I have never seen them jump before and I was delighted to finally see it. I am so used to having Marlene run with me that I turned to runners beside me and gasped 

'look!'

I forget that not everyone looks at the view, and gets excited by dogs, houses, gardens, flowers or in this case Springbok. Plus I also get a few quizzical looks when I speak. This could be for 3 reasons.

I speak to strangers

I speak really fast

I may be misunderstood as I have a very strrrrong Scots accent, exaggerated while running. (This may be because I pant more !)

My morning was turning into a delightful run, apart from the niggly foot. A motorboat quietly broke the still surface of the river and I wondered how I was doing time wise. I didn't feel like getting neurotic so decided against asking someone and just kept moving. I knew by now that we were getting close and not only because the distance markers told me. I forgot that we took an extra loop up past the old route and it took me a minute or two to get my mind back into my mellow mode. 

Shuffling along the road, I weaved a bit and then I heard the megaphone voice. Yippee, the split, the moment I'd been waiting for. I almost cheered out loud, but spared a thought for those soles going 'straight' while I kept left for the finish. A very well organised race by my old home town, and was delighted to hear my sister had done a sub 2 hour race, and enjoyed herself too. We sat and watched in awe at all the shapes and sizes of the runners coming in for the marathon and cheered for them

( and us who may have made 'peace' with the Vaal Country Meander - this year anyway!)

Spring bokkie spring!