Who The Hell Runs For Fun Anyway?

The hellishly long road to destroying FL (yes, Ulla, I know that FL is just wrong!!!) No 46: Run a (short) race is set out below.  So get comfy, make sure your cup and/or glass and/or bottle is full, check that the snacks are within easy reach and let's get on with it.

I have been in training. True story. Other people decide to run a half (eek) marathon of 21km or whatever and prepare by eating a plate of pasta, putting on some old takkies and running at the sound of the starter gun.  Not me.  Oh no.  I like and need to be a little more prepared.  My friends will tell you (and I may have mentioned this before) that I can be somewhat anal at times when it comes to planning and preparing for stuff!  What have I been training for?  To cross Fucket List No 46 of the list.  My 8km run. When I mentioned to a friend that I was planning on running 8km, his question was simple: "don't you have a car?".  Having said that, however, with the price of petrol these days I might very well have to resort to running to and from work each day - except its 60km a day!  Pffft!

So anyway, back to the training.  Rigorous and otherwise.  The 8km was scheduled to take place on 20th March and promised to be loads of fun (whatever) with my son signing on as my running buddy.  I started off my training with short runs - 10 minutes or so on the treadmill, working my way slowly up to 30 minute stretches.  By the beginning of March I had managed to get my distance up to 4.84km in 30 minutes before my knees gave in.  Still not 8km but getting there slowly!  I also had no choice but to come to the realisation that I am no longer a spring chicken.  The mind may be willing.  The lungs were even playing along.  But holy shit the legs were completely over this running crap - knee and hip joints moaning loudly!! 

One gorgeous cool evening I took to the road, Mojo at my side.  The dog, after about 10 minutes of pretty fast-paced running, sat down.  Just sat down.  He had had enough! There were no balls, parks or kids involved and anyway he was hungry and tired.  It took much cajoling to get him up and running again. For the remaining 15 minutes or so he alternated between running, sitting, walking, sighing, barking and trying to wiggle his head out of his collar!  Great running partner he was! NOT! 

Clearly I was a little delusional when, high on the fact that I was managing to clock a kilometre in 6:20, I signed up for the Spar 10km Women's Race on the 17th March.  Then preceded to panic. In-frikking-sane!

And because this wasn't enough, I decided to join the Edgemead Redsock Friday runners on the Friday just before the 10km Spar run .... for a quick 4km jog at 05h30 in the flaming morning!  So there I was, dressed in my sexy new black and lumo orange takkies, my knee high red socks, my black running shorts and my purple Chaeli Campaign running vest - my plan, it seems, was to ensure that I was visible.  Highly visible!  It was loads of fun though I have to admit.  There was an enthusiastic and partially loony crowd of about 30 odd runners - and off we set through Edgemead, one dude yelling shoOops over his bullhorn at regular intervals (which you can imagine must have pleased the sleeping  residents no end!).

Damon and I after the run .... and please note it is STILL dark!! 

The group of crazies causing havoc at dawn's crack!

With the success of my Friday run I was totally ready for Sunday!  I met up with my friends Ulla and Bella and we made our way to the start.  Holy shitsticks people there were tons and tons of women - and even some men dressed as women!  When the starter gun went off, it took us a full 10 minutes to shuffle to the starting position!! Aside from that, we totally bent the race over and made her our bitch!  Ok well in all honestly it went more like this: Bella has a pretty serious injury and she is only allowed to run 2 minutes, walk 5 minutes.  And that's what we did. It was actually quite lekker.  Very vibey and enjoyable - and not terribly tiring.  The last kilo or so we did give it horns, just so that we could get the heart rate up a bit.  Even taking into consideration the fact that we didn't run the entire way, we still did a reasonable time: 1:24 (then you still need to take the 10 minutes it took us to make our way through to the start off, so 1:14), with me coming 2635 out of more than 24 000.  Not too shabby I reckon!

Thousands and thousands and thousands of people!

No time for hair and make up - sorry peeps!

Very proud of our medals .... and a little peckish!

Two runs behind me, one to go.  I still had the 8km looming the next Wednesday.  By Sunday afternoon my left knee had pretty much stopped working properly and my right one was groaning madly!  Monday through Wednesday saw seriously liberal applications of Arnica and Reparil Gel in an attempt to perform miracles so that I could run - without further injury - on Wednesday evening.  That week's gym sessions involved no kicking or skipping or even much leg work - although clearly Divine made up for it in with upper body and ab workouts of note!!

And then there was Wednesday.  An 8km run for charity.  The one I had initially agreed to do when I started off this stupid bloody FL No 46!  And this where everything went slightly pear-shaped. Firstly, this run was in the late afternoon - 17h30 in fact - after an entire day of working had taken place (yes, I am lining up my excuses).  We all gathered at the start, full of energy and enthusiasm - purple feather wings cable-tied to my shoulders.  When the starter flag dropped I raced along with some of the other lunatics doing the run, staying out near the front and keeping pace with Damon. Stupid, stupid, stupid.  By the time we had hit about 1.5km I was completely knackered.  Instead of doing what I knew I should - i.e. find a comfortable pace, settle in and enjoy the breeze - I puffed and panted and acted generally choppish.  As we neared the halfway mark I told my poor son - who was doing his best to be patient with me - to go on ahead.  Then, on the last downhill making my way towards midway I realised that I was simply not having any fun whatsoever.  It sucked. I was hating every single second of every single step I took.  The funny thing is, my legs and knees were 100% - my lungs however were on fire and I simply couldn't regulate my breathing.

Enough was enough.   That's when I decided to stop and have a beer instead.  No one gave me any shit for stopping halfway. I, however - and once I had managed to breathe like a normal person again - was completely gutted.  I had created such an expectation within myself to obliterate this challenge.  

I was pretty emotional the following day.  Regretting giving up.  Regretting not at least trying the second round.  Even if I walked it.  I had set three goals for myself - and achieved two of them.  This was, in my highly dramatic, exhausted and emotional opinion, tantamount to a complete failure.  Woe was me! Anyhoo - by Friday I was feeling a little better, and by Saturday I was determined to try again the next day.  Sunday dawned and - after a serious uitkak from Divine about my knees and the stupidity of my plan - I started my quest to conquer the 8km run.  And I did it.  It took 50 minutes and 20 seconds but I did it.  Oddly enough I actually kinda rocked it.  My breathing was regulated and even throughout, my head was held high, my strides long and measured. I was a running rockstar.  Until I stopped.  Which is when my knees made their presence felt.  Loudly.  Sheeez they are stuffed now!!  Of course on Monday I got the "I told you so" from Mr Know It All Divine, but hey you know what?  I did it.  I can officially tick number 46 off the list.  Three and a half times.

Onward and upward .... bring on the next challenge!
Usain Bolt
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Sexpo, the toilet read, the swearing and so forth

Because I ramble on somewhat (!!!) I have had to split my posts into two.  Soon - very soon - I will be posting the long and exciting blog about my running efforts.  Wednesday sees the last of the 3-in-a-row-runs and you will then have the pleasure (dubious or otherwise) of sharing my training, and the agony, sweat and tears which are part and parcel thereof.

In the meantime, and to keep the blog at "read-on-the-loo" kind of length, here is a brief summary of some of the other stuffs I have done!

FL No 26: Dye my hair (or a piece thereof) some extreme colour - like pink or blue or purple or some such

So I didn't go as extreme as I had originally planned.  I am the fundraiser for a children's charity and have to bear this in mind.  Although something we celebrate loudly and often is difference and individuality, rocking up at a meeting with bright pink hair could jeopardise potential funding. I went plum.  Not sure how much I like it, but it has already faded to a reddish brown colour so it will do.  For now.

FL No 13: Go to an outdoor music festival

I have booked tickets to Rocking the Daisies - so stoked!  This means that I will be able to cross this one off my list ..... ok so it's only in October, but I am a slightly anal type of person (stop nodding) and are most happy when I prepare in advance!

The thing about this, however, is that I will be camping again!  Twice in one year! Yoh!  Although I am pushing very hard to book into the Heartbreak Motel - which is camping, but the sort of camping where they do all the shit for you, includes breakfast and private ablution facilities etc.  Totally my sort of camping!  Anyway, I am working on that one!

FL No 61 (new addition): Go to Sexpo

Sexpo has been happening in Cape Town for a few years and we always seem to miss it.   It HAD to go on my list!!  I hopped on the preparedness bus (yes, again) and bought tickets through Groupon - nogal at half price.  I took the bare essentials and packed them into my biggest bag, leaving enough room for taking home all the stuff I planned to procure at the expo!

It was somewhat of a disappointment though, I won't lie.  It was like a big vibrator warehouse really - just loads and loads of toys and not a whole lot else.   No man painting landscape scenes with his penis, or pole dancing lessons or that sort of interesting thing.

We did witness the worst male dance "review" (read stripshow) ever - it was really, really bad.  Instead of it being provocative and interesting we were rolling with laughter!  They were nowhere close to synchronised, and kept having wardrobe malfunctions.  The hypnotist however was hysterical!!  It is part of human nature, isn't it, that we love to watch other people make tits (haha) out of themselves.

You could have your picture taken with a guy dressed as a dick and another guy dressed as a dick with boobs.  Huh?  There was body painting, and an opportunity to have your pic taken with an (alleged) porn star.  There were free vodka and tequila tasters to give you the necessary courage to enter behind the black curtained areas. And, for an extra R40 or R80 (depending on your lifestyle choices) you could gain entry into the private lounge areas.

One thing which really tickled my fancy (more haha) was that, for a mere R500, you could have a plaster cast of your fanny made.  You know, as a back up just in case!  I have two thoughts on this (ok more than two, but two that I will share): firstly, how awkward would it be while you were lying there, legs in the air, waiting for the plaster to set.  According to Google, it takes between 20 and 30 minutes for the stuff to set properly.  Seriaaaas!  And then, secondly, what then?  Once you have your fanny immortalised in plaster, what the hell do you do with it?  Use it is a paper weight?  Put it on your mantelpiece next to the pottery the kids brought home from preschool?  Can u imagine the comments?  "Gosh Mabel, where did you get that plaster cast of a mohawk wearing oyster?"  Oi vey!!

Then it came to the toys.  Fascinating things.  There were the usual run of the mill type toys and then there were things which you looked at and thought "holy crap in a bucket, how the hell does that work and where the hell does it fit?"   And did you know that loads of vibrators are now made with a USB recharge function! 'Excuse me dear, please remove your flashdrive, I need to plug my dolphin in for a charge" (!!!!).  And the sex industry has gone green!  True story!  There is a vibrator you can buy which is solar charged!  You put the little solar panel in the sun, leave it for a while and off you go (or get)!  So pay attention peeps - save your planet, only use solar powered sex toys!

FL No 17: Tattoo

Still trying to stuff my pennies into the piggy's tummy - but it is going slowly ..... I need to concentrate and stop spending my money on unnecessary things like rates and taxes!

FL No 11: Going an entire day without swearing

Monday, I got to about 06h32 (training with Divine causes unexpected outbursts of profanity).
Tuesday, I got to about when I hit the N1.  Slowly.  With a silly cow in front of me putting on her makeup.
Wednesday, I made it all the way in to work, but put my bag down on my desk and got so excited about a story I wanted to share that I forgot not to swear.
Thursday, Again made it to work, and it all fell apart.

Damn this is hard people. There followed Friday, Saturday and Sunday filled with profanity.   Monday came around and, even with renewed vigour and enthusiasm, I only made it as far as halfway through training again.  Shitty pigsticks! Maybe if I am sedated for an entire day, I might cross this bastard off the list!

And on that delightfully classy note, I will leave you to your cornflakes and continue on my road to world domination .... I mean LIST domination! ;)

T
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