Well, not really running this week. I was going along good guns last week, when I popped into Cape Town for a flying visit and the running ground to a halt. Once again I am reminded just how blessed we are to have such consistently good weather up here in Jozi.


Wind blew, bringing the cloud over the mountain, which left me looking out of the window, thinking about 80km's in less than three weeks time. Then a bitter chill moved around the south and I happily sat inside considering my life without running.



Back in Jozi on Monday meant that I could go out and meet up with my friends on the road, but my body thought twice about that, and I realised that a bug had crawled it's way into my system and I left my charged batteries down in the mother city. I spent the day staring at the back of my eyelids, and felt a little better the following morning. So I ventured out for a game of badminton and stood stiller than normal as the shuttle flew past my now dizzy head. Sigh. Blood pressure lowering meant that I was still not ready to hit any roads, so I sat and patiently waited for the ant-virus to kick in and quarantine the bug.



Today I feel much better, but after a couple of minutes bouncing on my mini-trampoline I realised that I would still have to wait another day before I wear down my trainers some more. Such is the life of an athlete, now I hear you laugh. I did just say that, and sometimes I feel like an athlete, other times I pinch myself.



So before I end up with more bruises, I'll end here

Been a bit slow putting my writings on this, but here is a recent one of my running!

This time of year brings about unpredictable weather, and that affects my unpredictable training. Although I could say that my running is easy to predict. Rain- no run, icy wind- no run, snow- no run. I know we don't get much snow here in Jozi, but we do feel the effects of national snow lying on the bergs. The wind throws itself over the landscape and forces me to hide, usually under my blankets. That sounds great, but I have rather a long run coming up next month.




Eighty kilometers of Karoo. Perhaps I should change the whole concept and tell myself, and my body, that I am going to see the 'flowers' on foot! People from around the country gather in buses, trains and automobiles to drive great distances to the flattest, harshest area of land that comes alive in the Spring with amazing flowers. I am going there too now, and I must say one thing I haven't seen yet is the flowering Karoo. I am even going to be taking it all in, in great detail and slow motion. (Hopefully not too slow!)



Due to this touristy project, I was up before the sun again on Sunday and before the snow fell somewhere, and joined a cluster of tourists for a long run. There was a 15km route planned and we could do laps, however many we wanted. This sounds nice on paper, yes, I get to choose how far am I going to go, but, it makes it rather tempting to just say, 'enough now' and head for my car! I was surprised to see so many folks I knew, although there were a couple of chaps who aren't doing the Karoo, but are doing the mountain goat race on the same day as our flowers. So jokes announced, maps handed out - we set off. The one chap had said he would stick with me, but I don't think he realised it could take me quite as long and he had made lunch plans! Ha!



My other 'flower friend' had run to the club for an extra 9km's, so he was already warmed up and ready to keep moving. I was rather reluctant but we trippled out of the car park, and watched a rather quick group speed off into the early morning. Chatting and joking it was rather pleasant running with some different people but I did begin to feel guilty slowing down the pace. Luckily Mr Wikipedia wasn't feeling up to his usual form, and he called some early walks, much to my relief. I started to feel a need, and began to look for a toilet, but most places weren't open yet. At around 12km's I managed to find a clean-ish garage, and I was very thankful that I had brought along my pouch with necessary money, tissues, sweets, cheddars and biltong.

Alan joked that I would run much faster if I didn't carry 9kg's of baggage. I scoffed at him, all this equipment is very necessary, it's not like its make-up, or accessories, ah wait, I do carry Zambuk and plasters.

I met up with the others feeling much lighter and ready for the rest of the run. Until 21km's that is, then I just lost interest. I kept trying to chase away the faster guys, to leave me alone, and walk, but they wouldn't hear of it. At the one spot, the organiser said, "you can always go straight here, instead of doing the extra loop" Before he had finished the sentence myself and Willem had already sprinted away from him, in case he changed his mind. I felt a nice delight when we got to the garage before them and was able to buy some Energade, and take my time. Before long they were with us, and then I realised that the second lap felt much quicker than the first one.



We had agreed to do two laps, because that would give Willem almost 40km's of road. I was happy with the almost 30 and was very happy to see my little car waiting in the sun. With a short drive to my couch, I 'parked' myself there for the remainder of the day with the remote control as my travelling companion. Bliss!

Two weeks of rest after my 62km's meant that I could go and run a 10km race on Sunday. This was a strange space for me once again, as I found myself slipping back into 'couch potato' days and thinking, '10km's is far, will I be able to do it?' I tested my doubts the day before while walking the dogs. I had short bursts of a jog, and found myself heaving and wheezing, almost as if I was confirming that the past 4 years have indeed been a dream, I couldn't possibly be a 'runner'. The dogs were wheezing just as much as I was, so my alter ego said in a stern voice 'it helps when you breathe while you run'. I walked back home and decided to still test the reality of running 10kms the next day, after all I had promised my friend I would be there.


Getting my running things together was strange, and I thought my vest looked odd, but it took a long moment to realise that I had taken my licence number off it, while I was doing the Comrades, so I had to hunt the numbers out and pin them on again. I am also used to efficient hubby who thinks ahead and plans things like top layers of clothes for cold mornings, but hubby is working on that thingimajig, the football, so in the end I forgot my outer layer. Luckily this race started later, at 8am, so the cold on my arms was only while we waited for the start to happen.

A much smaller field in general arrived at the race, and the organisers had done a nice thing by giving the walkers and us separate starting times, which helped congestion, and another good thing is that they separated the genders, which meant us girls could take our time in starting, and not be jostled while applying our make up when the gun goes off! The men are mostly quicker off the mark, however this RAC start is on a rather steep uphill, and with Comrades creaking in everyone's joints, the pace did seem a little slower.

At the top of this hillstart, I felt my muscles in my butt complain, but it was on both sides, and not the Comrades hip pain, but after loosening up on the nice downhill, the complaints stopped. In fact I ran very comfortably, and with all the catch up we had to do, it was only at the 6km marker board, that I realised how quick the time seemed to have gone. We have run this route many times, but it was interesting to notice that the mean hill at about 7 km's didn't feel so mean. It was a lovely morning for a run, with the sun high, but a cool breeze and I enjoyed eavesdropping (when my friend was drinking her water), and heard about other runner's Comrades experiences.

We were welcomed back into the stadium with some nice cheers, as I was wearing my SA flag shorts to keep the vuvuzela's blowing. Even nicer, was the hot breakfast and fresh coffee waiting for us at the gazebo. I managed to remember my chair, so I had a nice 'seat and eat' while watching some heroes of the day finish their race. Two 80 year old gents finished, and the one chap didn't look a day over 60, he was celebrating his 80 birthday that day, I hope when I get to that age, I will be sitting down with a nice cup of tea and birthday cake. Mind you, 80 is the new 60 these days!

So the running rest was broken, however it may have been a once off, because a cold front of note has gripped the land, and the thought of going outside to run against that icy wind is not attractive at all. Instead I will sit and write about it, makes it feel 'real'!

Keep it real!

Post Comrades.


Can you remember the build up towards the last day of school? 12 years, (sometimes more) of angst exams, early mornings, and late nights? The day after the last day for many is something of an anti-climax, and like school, post Comrades means there are many gloomy soles trudging through the weeks that have past.

What to do on the weekends when you wake up and stare at the ceiling and realise that you don't have to force yourself to get up for a run. The washing machine is eerliy devoid of sweaty clothes and the jelly bean jar is empty. In a lonely corner my Comrades goodie bag sits and waits to be unpacked. I pretend it's not there, because if I look at it, it might become real. The feeling that it's all over- for this year. My dog somehow managed to unzip another running bag and helped me unpack by eating all the unused jelly beans and even the Super C's. I swear she looked a low shade of green when I realised what she had done. Even she 'bailed' to the couch!

The running shoes are calling me in the quiet of the night and I am dreaming again of running friends and races. I haven't looked at my races for the rest of the year ahead, in fact my calendar looks empty. I realised that I was suffering from a Comrades hangover, so I went searching for inspiration.

Firstly I watched a sped up version of the TV coverage, and tried to spot all our club members and people I know. That made me a bit excited, and I felt a gentle rush of Comrades feeling when I saw the smiles and flags and faces of the finishers. Then I looked at some random strangers photographs of the race on the website. The best thing to get over the running blues however, was finding the book 'Born to run' by Christpher Mcdougall. I had heard people rave about it, but I think the title put me off a little because I thought I certainly wasn't born to run.

It is about a long lost tribe in Mexico who run like the wind, but the author writes very well and it is so easy to read, so now I will have some Mexican tricks to get me through next year's race! It really has reminded me of how much fun it can be and how people run for very different reasons, so that is really helping.

Otherwise, it is good to see that Comrades organisers have decided to keep the date of the race in May, which suits us icy Highvelders just fine. Keeps us snug in our warm winter beds, and that is exactly where I am headed to right now, with my book of course!

On Sunday I became another Comrades statistic, that of 'bailer'. This means to my non-running friends, that I chose to get into a courtesy bus and surrendered my race and get driven to the Finish stadium in Durban instead of running the whole way. So now I have 3 Comrades varieties to my experience -'Too slow for the time, medalist and bailer.'


Let me rewind a little. The weekend was a strange one. Chaos and calm, one minute and sheer silence and terrible noise the next minute.

We landed at the new Durban International Airport which is nice, but has become just like all the other international airports, and has lost that small town, sea-smell, holiday feel. Now it's slick, and shiny, with Football details and pretty girls everywhere. I hear the men ask, 'what is wrong with that?' I could go on and on, but that is for a different ramble, this one is about Comrades.

After a long time spent travelling to the crazy Expo centre we finally make our way out of the 'shark' infested parking into the Conference Centre. 20 000 entrants and their families all squeezed into a small space meant long queues and lots of grimaces. However, we still managed to get through and receive our 'goodie bag' fairly painlessly after the long winded queue moved quickly.


Bellies fed, we made our way down to settle in our b&b's. Moments of silence weren't broken by the sound of waves this year, instead we had big winds pick up, and it turned rather cold for the usually tropical city. Feet up, we listened and hoped that the wind would not affect our running on Sunday.

Finally after a long night of staring at the tv decoder clock, and trying to figure out what the time was, it was finally 'now'. Comrades 2010 had arrived. Dressed and ready, we left the heartbreak hotel for the start and followed the even longer than usual line of red carlights weaving their way to Pietermaritsburg. Stepping out of the car, the cold slapped us, and we all shivered for our photographs. We had luckily parked next to a very nice security guy, who let us into his company to use the toilets, and we stood in the heat of the empty office and contemplated our long day ahead.

We all moved quickly into our seeding areas. which is like a speed ranking, of course letting the fast guys go first. This meant that we had the furthest to walk as I was in the very last group. The speakers were blasting and commentators were getting the spirits up, as we all huddled together trying to block out the icy chill. Time seemed to speed up, because before I knew it, they were playing all the usual songs which meant that 'Chariots of Fire' was getting closer on the playlist. The anthem sung, the first few bars of Vangelis, strikes a chord in everyone's hearts. It is an awesome feeling to stand there and know that this is meant for me! The gun gets shot and the clock starts. For us at the back it starts rather slowly and it take us over 8 minutes to get to the start line. I silently think that the front guys are already 2 kms away by this time.

We set off, and the cold makes us keep our top layers of clothes on for longer, as we shuffle through the dark city. Such a large field of runners means that the crowding is tight, and I find myself really concentrating on people in front of me's -feet, as well as try to dodge the people behind kick my feet. This concentrating means that the time seems to go quicker and before we know it, the sunrise cracks the sky.

I quietly run listening to the footsteps all around, as there seems to be little chit chat so early in the race. My friend Marlene, runs comfortably and we get into our rythym fairly easily. I feel surprisingly quiet inside, but put it down to the lack of sleep and it will get better later. I try to look for diversions, but I end up returning my focus to the many people still bunched about and the road loses it's appeal after a few kays. I think about the novices setting out on their first journey, and try to chat to some other people round about me. Nope, still not much soul in it, so I decide to just stay quiet.


We carry on snaking our way out towards the outskirts of the city, and the crowd support disappears. After around 2 hours of running, I feel a pain in my hip. I am suprised by this, as I have run a lot without any hip niggles, so I decide to put on my Chinese sticker on it, hoping that that will do the trick. I also take some other meds, and do my tricks. I think about the last time I had hip pain. All I can remember is last year's Comrades. So I play with that in my head for a while and then my friend gives me some Chinese pain spray. That quietens it for a while and I wonder if I can spray the stuff into my head?

We were running well and had good times over the first half of the race, but I wasn't enjoying it much. This perturbed me, as I know that the second half gets worse, because of the distance, however we keep moving and celebrate the fact that we reached halfway 10 minutes faster than last year's race. I can't remember this kind of detail, but Marlene is glowing, she is so in the 'zone'. I want to growl at her, but she is too nice, so I tell her that I have been in a bad space for some time.She chastises me, telling me to get positive, and Lord knows I tried, but eventually after the fog not lifting, and my pains worsening, I firmly tell her, that I will not ruin her chances at another medal again, so when I say 'go' she must GO!

Bless her, she tried to do and say everything to get me positive, but I was 'stuck'. Eventually I tell her to go ahead, and she listened without argument, she must have seen my look in my eyes!

I follow on behind her for some time, watching as she carefully looks over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of me, but I lost sight of her after one water point. This point, I tried some Cream Soda for a change of taste, hoping that it could have magic powers , but the only feeling I got was a swelling in the roof of my mouth. Now I knew my head was hunting for things to make me stop! My hip was achingly sore, and now had shifted down to my knee and was showing up in my shin. This meant that walking was painful and I was compensating with my other leg which didn't like this extra work one bit!

I realised that I was having one of 'those' days that people have talked about and I felt powerless to do anything. I almost ignored the outreached hands from smiling kids, and even the cheers didn't penetrate my armour. This is what I was running for, yet I was even 'turning' on that. Cute dogs, schoolboys cheering, none of it made any difference, and I thought long and hard about the consequences of what I was contemplating. I was still way ahead of Vlam's 12 hour bus, who taxi-ed us to the finish line last year, and there are plenty of angels along the way all trying to lift my spirit. I walked the whole way down past Hillcrest (I think) toying with the 'should I or shouldn't I'. After all, I have you to answer to!

Eventually my body said, 'girl, this is enough', so at around 27km's to go, I sat down on the back of a marshall's bakkie with a fellow traveller and waited for a bailer bus. Stories flooded my head, and all sorts of math sums popped up, and many people said 'you can still make it', but I realised later (well a whole day later) that I chase joy, not medals, and in this race which I absolutely love, I was feeling NO joy. I did not want to turn this into a race I hate, and get really injured chasing time with my slow pained walk. I am old enough to realise the medal doesn't mean as much to me as my happiness, but I had to be sure I would have no regrets.

After a tortured half hour of chilly waiting, an empty bus came along to escort me to comfort and a DNF(Did Not Finish) By this time, a couple more runners had joined me, and in my own need to search for justification, I asked them why they were bailing. The one guy was running his 10th race, and going for his green number but he seemed quite secure with his his decision to quit.

Back in the sunny stadium, I wait for my sister who I had spotted on the road from the bus, and was pleased to see that she was running so well. I walked about and as typical of Murphy's Law, the hip pain remarkably improved. In fact today, apart from the getting in and out of chairs, the worst pain I have is a sore tongue! Yes, it did feel like I had spent the day dragging my tongue along the tar, so that is a strange side effect!

Marlene did fabulously well and finished so well on her own, her confidence in her own running back in tact, and I am pleased to say that everyone else who had stuck it out made it in on time! So now for me, it's back to the drawing board, I realised that me 'easy laid back' style of running, didn't help, so I am going to regroup, and get myself ready for 2011. Hopefully the crowd will be less, I will be better prepared, and that this year is my only 'one of those days'!

Congrats to all the finishers, and to all the non-finishers, I hope you have no regrets and know that you made the best decison that you could at the time! I have none, in fact I feel fabulous!

A few days away from the start of my third Comrades Marathon. Hopefully I bring back my second medal! I am at times so excited, then others puzzled. Is this really me? On one hand it seems like just another race, yet on the other hand it feels monumentous. Especially when people say they admire me, or they are in awe of me. It feels so natural in many ways to be doing this and then so unbelievably unlike me on the other. I still like to park close to shops, so I don't have to walk far. The thought of climbing stairs brings back the 'old me'. Running for a ringing telephone tires me out, yet I am fitter than I ever was in my twenties and thirties.
So it does feels unbelievable, yet if I have gotten to this point, anyone can!
I am not one of those driven, dedicated types, 'laissez faire' would be a more accurate style of person, hubby would disagree and say 'lazy fair' (which is probably truer!). I dislike routine, and I am certainly not competitive. If it rains, I stay at home and forgo the run. But the difference is, not running one day, doesn't put me off forever, like it used to.
The physical act of running isn't even the attraction. I don't go all mathematical and work out my running speed, and the last km's timing, because that bores me. I have an idea now of what I am capable of, and I do look at the end of say 10kms, and then do any maths, if need be. I don't know how I should be running with proper gait, and heel strike, all I know about is that I seem to plod, or shuffle, and that works for me.
I am boring in the way that I can now talk running for hours with fellow runners, but usually about other runners and not the technicalities of anything. I want to know how other people feel, and what they do, and that is what interests me. People have stories, and my running friends have years and years of different races, in different towns, and that fascinates me.
I don't eat the correct things and work out the intake or output, I just go with what I now know, and what I like. There is probably many things that could be corrected, but the 'effort' puts me off- see, I told you 'lazy'!
I enjoy being out on the road, surrounded by people and this awesome country and I feel totally safe on the road, apart from woman drivers who seem to drive far too close to me, but that only happens when I'm running alone!
I enjoy reading about running, but again it's the stories I'm after, the different type of shoe doesn't keep my interest for very long, unless it's those weblike shoe gloves, that look like barefeet, those still intrigue me!

So now my bags are packed, got my Durban warm clothes, where it will be warmer than Jozi, and am almost ready to board that plane. Roughly 10 hours are in the way between me and the start of my weekend away. The excitement has my head playing mini-samples of music all day, and I sing them so hubby can be a doll and pretend he recognises them. I can't seem to sit still for very long, and there is nothing on tv! Even my internet game isn't keeping my interest. The bubble of excitement is twitching in my limbs, and I will have to take a bath, and read something really boring later to slow my body down.

I am looking forward to meeting my fellow 'comrades' some known, and others to be known. I can't wait to hear new stories, and am so looking forward to receiveing the love from the spectators that festively line the roads of Natal, cheering us on. I am excited at the prospect of doing a better time, and feeling clear-headed, and that feeling when we near the stadium, and I hear the PA guy trying his best to sound excited after 7 hours of duty. I want to shout at the cameramen who are usually sitting behind their cameras, not filming us, because we are too slow for the TV interest, but not slow enough for the heart-wrenching tears at the final 12 hour gun. I want to smile and 'whoop' as we enter the stadium, and hear the people applaud us even if they are still anxious as they wait for their own loved ones to enter the stadium.
Why would anyone not want to run this race? It is an experience that lives on forever, and no matter how long I rant, it is still undescribable.
Bring it on!

Now we move closer and closer to single figures, nearing the Comrades. That means that mileage is shorter, and the waiting feels longer. Last night we set off to do a shortish run so sister could try out her new shoes. On the way we met up with a fellow club runner and physio, and it was nice running with her. Although I felt very old, compared to the two of them, as they lightly skipped up the steep hills! They were very kind and allowed me to walk, when I got to a specific marker, but I was still huffing and puffing! It also got very dark, and the roads were still busy with cars making their way home. So we spent quite a bit of the last part on the pavements and I am still very cautious about running on pavements, so I slowed right down.
Every morning, us runners do a full body mental scan, checking for any new pains, or aches before we get up and face our day. At this stage no-one wants to get sick, so a lot of people become paranoid about it. In fact I am sure I can feel an ache in my throat right now.....

Having been through this stage of 'waiting for Comrades' before, I now know that when I feel out of breath going up stairs is no indicator of my running fitness. Feeling like I am going to pass out after 2 km's is also just a way my body is trying to mess with my head about running a lot more than that! So I keep my chin up, and eyes straight to remind me that there is indeed a world out there waiting to be seen, by me, on foot!!!




I met up with some of my running friends on Saturday which was nice, as I hadn't seen them for a while, and it made for a nice catch-up while out dodging traffic. The wind was blustering at first, and for a moment we thought winter had arrived, but it was just a short trailer of what May come (groan!) The later start means our suburb is rather busy with the hustle and bustle of cars. I am very happy to see that some of our potholes have been repaired. However the sad consequences of that is that I realised that people dodge more for potholes than for runners! Once again, ladies, you have let me down. Perhaps I could put it down to the judging of distance, however it may well be the cellphone you are trying to send messages on, that is clouding your vision! Many a time I tested my hopping reflex, as I realised that the car is not going to budge, so it's best that I clear the way! That was even in broad daylight, can't even blame the dark! Sigh!

So less than 2 weeks to go, and I find myself looking over last years photo's and feeling chuffed that I am healthy and able to do this all again. One of the comments seen on Facebook to a friend was 'You thank yourself for not putting your body through that torture....have you ever seen a healthy looking long distance runner? you made the right choice...' To which of course, I HAD to reply, that I am a long distance runner, and I am healthy looking!

It is strange that I am this side of that argument though, because at my sister's first Comrades six years ago, I was thinking along those lines of torture, craziness, and never-ending pain too.

What I had never experienced that side of the argument was the camaraderie, the spirit, the joy, the humour, the support, the views, the love from strangers, the pride in strangers eyes, the hope, the fears, the sharing, the conversations, the constant motion, the pleasure, the ubuntu, the surprise, the ecstasy when you see Pinetown, the glee when you realise Durban is just ahead, the smells, the families sitting on couches by the roadside cheering, the moments when you catch a cheering stranger's eyes, and words can't express what the connections mean, and of course that heartbusting feeling when you enter that stadium. This side of the argument feels so much better, and I am so glad that I am facing this 'ultimate human' test again!



Roll on the 30th!

It is almost 2 weeks till Comrades. That means 14 days till I run 89. something kms. So today I went out with my friends from my club for a 10km run. The first thing that surprised was the overnight drop in temperature. It has been a while that it has been 'dry' cold, we have had lots of mist, and rain, uncharacteristic for this time of year, usually we just have sun and frost. So we stood clustered together waiting for the 7am start, and dressed warmly.
Out on the street, the wind dropped, and I was instantly hot. This could have been because I haven't been running much, so it may have been my body shock,  but then  I saw someone else take off the outer layer of clothes. Good, so it's not just me!
We had a different 10km route, and the one hour later start in winter means that the roads are already busy, so we have to keep our wits about. On the main road a truck went past and actually blew my hat off. This has never happened to me, I used to think it was because I had an odd shaped head, so hats would stay on, but this one didn't. Maybe all this running is making me lose weight.... on my skull!
We chatted about this and that, and the fact that the Comrades countdown as well as the countdown for the World Cup football is all a day early. The FIFA site has it right, but all other websites and media are a day ahead. Then we heard about mist playing havoc with airporsts and flights, and talked once again about training, and recent races. This all happens while running. I never thought I would get to the stage where I could hold and maintain a conversation while running. My first year of running consisted of head nods, and grimaces while I listened to the chatter and banter of the fit ones, and had all the fantastic retorts, but no energy to say them! Now I have the energy, but the conversations have changed!
Who would've thought that I could own that quality? Not the lack of retorts, but the fit one. I am pleased with myself for not giving up when I didnt get my first Comrades medal, because I was too slow, and I am pleased that I went back again last year and did it! I am pleased that I stuck to our training plan (even loosely!) and I am about to go down again. It is a real blessing that I have the health, the ability, and the excitement to go an experience the 'ultimate human race'.
I am great-full!