Running

So why would a grown person with a modicum of education decide on a beautiful winter's day (literally - today we got one of those real peaches - the last cold front having pushed off and the next one not yet having pushed in - I have heard them called "champagne weather") and spend 2 hours dragging his droopy, saggy and rather shapeless body over kilometer after kilometer of pavement?

Theory one: He was having endorphin withdrawal and it was either this or go and shoot some heroin.

Theory two: He is already nearly a year late for his annual check up with the friendly cardiologist (who is tall and thin and exercises vigorously 6 days a week) and can't put it off much longer.

Theory three: He caught sight of himself in the mirror and was depressed for over 2 minutes and 35 seconds, concluding that extreme exercise ewas the only option.

Theory four: He wanted fish and chips at Kalky's for lunch and this was the only way to assauge his guilty conscience.

OK, so it was a bit of all four.

I say run. And strictly it is - I never walk. I just run really slowly up the hills. I have this gizzmo on my wrist which tells me what my heart rate is doing. In theory my maximum should be 174 bpm (220 minus my age). On the other hand the machines at the gym start flashing lights and making beeping noises when it gets much above 155. So I try and stick to 140-155. I have a bottle of fruit juice in one hand and my sweat towel with wallet and cell phone in the puch in the other. I have new New Balance trainers which I got for my birthday - lurid orange. Depending on the weather I sometimes wear shades.

As I mentioned, this morning was one of those perfect mornings - hardly a breath of wind, not hot (tomorrow is the winter solstice), just the barest of cloud cover. I ran up Boyes drive as far as Lakeside and back. The Cape flats were hazed out by a greyish fog. Maybe it was smog. Or seamist. Or whatever. I never really know the difference. I saw the southern line train heading off for Cape Town. At every level crossing it gave a loud series of hoots which echoed off the cliffs above Muizenberg seconds later. The proteas are in bloom, the mountainside is looking lush and green, the streams are running. A flock of very stupid guinea fowl were trying to cross the road as I ran past. Multiple forays into the road all ending in near collisions with oncoming vehicles and hasty retreats back to the grass verge. Eventually the coast is clear and they get across. One, two, three, four, five ... oh no, the last one has a gammy leg. He (she?) drags it across the road, painfully, slowly ... finally makes it. How many lives do guinea fowl have?

Hikers park their cars on the pavements of Boyes Drive. OK, they have to park them somewhere. The road is narrow and if they parked in the road it would cause quite an obstruction. There are bays but not very many and not in the areas where they want to park. But why do they have to park in such a way that they take up the entire pavement? Seri - usss. I had to run in the road at least 3 times this morning. Should I write a letter to the paper, I think as I run on.

Dear Hikers / Walkers,

We, the runners and walkers who use Boyes Drive, also love the mountain and understand your desire to walk its paths and enjoys its beauty. We like to run on the pavement. In the US this is called a sidewalk. Note side-walk. Not a side park, a side drive or a side anything else. A side walk. When you park your car so that not even an anorexic can squeeze past you force us to run in the road which is (a) incovenient and (b) potentially dangerous. If you parked with two wheels on the road you might just get the wing of your car shaved by passing traffic. You probably wouldn't, but you might be unlucky. Let's see - what do you think is worse - your car wing sahved or a seriously injured child. Who's smarter than a fifth grader? Please heed this request and save us the hassle of having to leave it spray painted on your windscreens.

Sincerely, etc."

Nah ... too much hassle.

The final chapter was fish and chips at Kalkies. To the uninitiated, Kalkies is a bit of an institution in Kalk Bay. The tables are rustic (read wooden benches), the fish is the freshest, the prices are reasonable and the location is - well, perfect - right on the quay near the fishing boats. How much fishier can one get? You can get a good meal for four of hake and calamari and chips, and drinks for just over R100. The staff are friendly - we have made friends with one of the ladies who brings you your food and clears away afterwards. You leave feeling full and satisfied but not stuffed. And you don't leave feeling like you've blown the household budget for the month.