They don't look like much but I am very fond of them ...
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They sit here for a few hours after every long run. They like the view and I think it helps the smell.
I started running in 2006 after my cardiologist crapped me out. I went to see him because I had had a dizzy spell while riding my bicycle up Chapman's Peak Drive early one Saturday morning. A doctor friend of mine referred me after sending me for an ECG and a few blood tests in advance - liver functions, ultra-sensitive CRP, lipogram, etc. The first time I met the cardiologist was the day I walked into his consulting room. I remember it vividly. He was a tall fellow, apparently lacking any fat on his body, a few years older than me. He was sitting at his desk when I entered his office. He greeted me warmly enough and invited me to sit across from him. He had my blood results and folder open in front of him.
His opening gambit was "So, are you proud of these?", motioning to the papers. I mumbled something and turned red, while he went on about my LDL being too high and my HDL too low and the index generated by whatever it was placing me in the "high risk" category. "Any family history of cardiovascular disease?", he asked. "Not really," I said feeling myself on more positive ground, "Dad died of Parkinson's dementia". "Ah," he said, "but that is where you may be wrong - the latest evidence is that many cases of dementia are secondary to cardiovascular problems." I could see I was in for a good pakslae, so resigned myself to the worst, which was not long in coming. He told me to strip down to my underpants and then come back to his office to be weighed and measured. I duly made my appearance, feeling like a warthog caught on the catwalk. He eyed me disapprovingly from across the room and then came across and pointed at my gut. "That, sir, is your problem!" and he stuck his index finger into a roll. "That must go." "How?" I asked. "Training, of course" he said, "I'm not in the slightest worried about your dizzy spell - probably vasovagal from stopping too suddenly - but I am very concerned about your chemistry and general state of fitness!"
Uncomfortable as that first encounter was, I believe I owe a lot to him. That was exactly what I needed at that stage of my life, a good stiff kick in the arse! He told me to try exercise, omega-3's and a few other things to get my HDL up and LDL down. I took the challenge seriously, exercising most days a week and ensuring my heart rate got to 70% of maximum for age and stayed there for at least 20-30 minutes, but I think my genetics and gender were against me and when I saw him 3 months later my weight and LDL had dropped, I was feeling a lot better, both physically and mentally, but my HDL was still too low. So I started 10mg of Crestor every morning, which I still take, four years later.
That was a rather long prologue, but it does explain how I came to be running my third 2OHM on the 3rd of April this year, what would have been my father's eightieth birthday. Speaking of departed relatives, I should make brief mention of Uncle Dick, my mother's eldest brother. Dick was born in Durban in 1916, I believe, went to Durban Boys' High, served in WW2 as a bomb disposal corporal in North Africa and Italy, and ended up working for Dunlop in Durban as I am not quite sure what for most of his life. He married and had 4 children. In the days when I knew him best, his life seemed to revolve around washing the dishes, tinkering around with old cars and an ageing black labrador-cross, who went by the name of Amin, or 'Min for short (and lived in one of the old cars in the garden). Like me, he started long distance running fairly late in life - his 40's or 50's I think. Unlike me, he ran the Comrades ultra-marathon - the 90km annual race from Pietermaritzburg to Durban or vice versa. Not once but repeatedly. He died about 10 years back but I often think of him when I run.
I had been fairly conscientious about my training for the 2010 2OHM. Probably not enough road running but plenty of gym, swimming and squash. I was confident I was generally fit. Two weeks before the race I ran to the Steenberg Virgin Active gym and back one Saturday morning - the route goes along Boyes' Drive so has plenty of up and down. I have measured it with the car and know it is about 21 km round trip. I did it in about 2h30m with a short (5 minute) break in the middle for a banana and Powerade, so I knew I would be OK in under three hours in the race.
I did my last serious gym workout on the Tuesday before the race. The race website seemed to be big on "tapering" and a friend who is an experienced runner / cyclist told me "nothing more than light walking after Wednesday." Turned out to be good advice, I think.
I didn't go the carbo-loading route, not sure why. I collected my Race numbers and "goodies bag" on Thursday at the Good Hope Centre, verified that my Champion Chip was working, and resisted a strong temptation to buy the latest Polar chronograph for several thousand rands - they really are impressive gizzmo's. On Friday night I tried to go to bed early but had some trouble getting to sleep. I was up at 4 a.m. on Race Day, making last minute preparations.
Numbers fixed to vest with safety pins (forgot to write my medical details and emergency numbers on the back), Champion Chip tied into shoelaces, shorts (should I wear the baggy comfortable ones that make me look like I have just returned from a holiday in Hawaii, or the slinky, shiny proper running shorts which probably look good but get more uncomfortable by the km?), tracksuit top, anti-chaffing stuff, cell phone, wallet, Polar watch and chest strap - all set to go. Had a glass of cold apple juice, swallowed my Crestor and salmon oil capsules (yuck!), kissed barely conscious herself goodbye and left in the dark - it would be at least another two hours before the sun rose.
I listened to Cape Talk on my way in. Seemed to be mostly crazy people phoning in about end times prophesies and the end is nigh. One fellow said we should really avoid living in coastal areas! UCT was buzzing when we arrived. We found parking right up the top of campus, on Ring Road and walked down to the start in Main Road, Newlands - a leisurely walk given that we had half an hour in hand and there is nothing worse than standing around at the start for half an hour waiting for the race to start.
At the bottom of Dean Street there were a couple of large signboards. One said "Only runners beyond this point" and the next said "<= 56km / 21km =>" - very important to get the right one! I was by this stage bursting for a leak but there didn't appear to be any loo's around so a took a "warm up jog" down a side road and found a friendly tree.
By the time I rejoined my fellow runners at the start it was almost time for the countdown. There was some music playing over the PA and when it stopped there was a round of applause. Someone said it had been the national anthem - could have fooled me! Then there was a lot of shouting and cheering, some very loud and some very bad music, and then everyone started to shuffle forward - I concluded the race had started and pressed the button on my Polar watch.
I guess if you are in "A" category, you run the whole race. If you are in "E" category, like us, you walk the first km, then half walk half jog the next two and finally get to run round about where you turn off Main Road/ the M4. This is because they have 11,500 runners trying to run down a road wide enough for 6 cars at some points, scarecely two at others. That is just the nature of the race, and one of the reasons the 2OHM is slower than, for instance, the Safari Half in Wellington, which only has about 5000 and is run in more open surroundings. The temptation is to run on the pavement or the middle traffic island, but in the dark this can be hazardous and I mostly stuck to the middle of the road, taking a gap if one appeared but by and large just going with the flow. I tried not to get irritated with the walkers taking up large swathes of middle road and holding up the runners. I think they should start at the back and stay there. Do they know how ridiculous they look when they waggle their asses like that? Like their last suppository got stuck? (Do they care? I guess not). Each to his own, I suppose, but you wouldn't catch me doing that.
We ran past Wynberg Girls' Schools and the first refreshment stop. I wasn't hot or thirsty so just stayed in the middle and ignored the shouts of the helpers offering me Coke or Powerade or water in plastic sachets or paper cups. Then it was the short sharp uphill of Carr Hill Road, the first reminder that this wasn't going to be a walk in the park. Down to Gabriel Road, round the traffic circle and back up the other side - first chance to see the masses ahead and behind, always a bit encouraging or discouraging, depending on how you look at it. Along Constantia Main Road, under the M3 highway, past the Virgin Active Gym where I had done much of my training. Somewhere around there was a 5km marker - 1/4 of the way done.
Then it was a short detour down old Constantia Road as far as Ladies' Mile - to make up the distance, I suppose and give the local worthies somewhere to watch the race from. Again it was down this side of the road and back up the other, with a barrier inbetween, so another chance to see the throngs of runners. I scoured the passing masses unsuccessfully for any family or friends. Back into Constantia Main Road, right into Parish Road at the stone church. Another marker and someone shouting something about "k's". I thought it must be 8km, but the lady beside me said 10km. Halfway there! That was a bonus. And just under an hour elapsed. Might still do a half decent time, I thought.
Got a new spring in my step, which lasted about 100m, until I hit Southern Cross Drive. SCD is legendary amongst 2OHM runners - it comes halfway into the race, lasts about 4km, is mostly fairly gradual but steep in parts, and generally just seems to go on for ever. I put my head down, concentrated on my breathing and checked my pulse every so often. It was running in the 160's, which was fine, and I was feeling OK, so I just kept going, plodding along. Some runners passed me - I noticed they mostly had "20" on their labels, meaning they were aged betwen 20 and 30. Whippersnappers! On the other hand I passed quite a few myself, some of whom also had 20's on their labels! Take that! Some of the walkers appeared to be going almost as fast as the slower joggers, which is a bit discouraging, but I guess that is what happens on hills.
As we neared the top of the hill, and the intersection with Rhodes Drive, we were blasted and rocked first by a mobile disco running off a petrol generator and then by a band of drummers. I am not a fan of loud music, but found it quite welcome as it took my mind off the pain in my legs. We turned the corner, then suddenly the gradient was downhill. Strangely, it was not a huge relief. OK, it was good not to have the constant pain of hauling oneself uphill, but going down one feels obliged to pick up the pace, keep the heart rate up, and it is actually pretty exhausting running fast downhill. Add to this the camber of Rhodes Drive on the bends (of which there are many) and a few hidden and unexpected uphills before one gets to Kirstenbosch, and it turned out not to be the most enjoyable few km.
At the top gate of Kirstenbosch, there were a couple of refreshment stations and lots of music, crowds, physio tents, and the like. This is the fun part of the race - no huge uphills, lots of support, and the prospect of the finishing line somewhere not too far away. It was starting to heat up so I grabbed a few water sachets and squirted them over my head (and my fellow runners, not to mention one or two spectators). A French fellow ran with me for a short while and asked about the Cape Town weather, informing me that it was 9 degrees Celsius in France today. OK. Whatever. Thanks for that.
I seemed to get a second wind on that stretch, passed quite a few athletes and was generally feeling good. I made the Rhodes Drive / M3 intersection just shy of 2h. 2.5km left in 15 minutes to make a 2:15, which for me on this course is a good time. Should be possible. I felt excited - this would be a personal best for this race - last year I only managed 2:37 and 2 years before that 2:20. The guy next to me was saying to his buddy: "No ways we'll make 2:15. Can't do it in 15m!" Come on, I thought, it can't be that tough.
But it is tough - those last few kms up the M3 past the Newlands Forest, over Princess Anne Road and into UCT - it is sheer bloody purgatory. It is not as steep as Southern Cross. The problem is one has given just about everything and there is little left. I just kept my head down, my eye on my pulse, on the clock, on the distance markers. I saw one or two folk I knew in the crowd who shouted encouragement - that helped. Gradually, painfully, the last remaining km slipped by. Eventually the UCT rugby field gate loomed into site. 2:14 and counting. And then the final kick in the teeth: 300m of grass. Difficult to believe but it is really hard running on soft grass after 21km on tar. The legs just don't want to do that extra work. But the clock was ticking and somehow I found a bit of extra energy, enough to pick up the pace and make sure I clocked a 2:15 and not a 2:16 or a 2:17. Is that important? Yes, it is. You have no idea how important it is!
And then, as it began, it was all over. Line crossed, time registered, race finished. I stopped running and felt my legs, back, body, feet protesting - "What on earth are you doing to us?!" I joined one of several queues and got my medal, then another to get a Coke and then yet another to get into the white "runners' tent" where I was given a lovely hot cup of tea and an Ouma rusk by a smiling lady. Never have tea and rusk tasted that good. I sat / flopped / collapsed onto the grass inside the tent and gratefully consumed them, wondering whether I would be able to get up again. They were so good that I had a second cuppa and two more rusks before leaving the tent. The next challenge was the bridge over the race track. Up twenty steps, over the track and down again the other side. No way around. Have they any idea what it feels like to do this after running 21km?!
I met my friends and family, made a few phone calls to assure herself and others that I hadn't succumbed and headed home. Another 2OHM down. Every year I wonder why I do it and every subsequent year I come back to do it again.
36 hours later, as I write this, I am still stiff, a little sore, but not in agony. Last night was difficult, but today has been OK and by tomorrow I expect I shall feel fine, by Tuesday I shall be back in the gym. Isn't the human body remarkably adaptive? Or, perhaps, isn't the human brain remarkably stupid?!
Hope you are happy, Doctor!
I'm right proud of you, lad!
ReplyDeleteAnd I think Uncle Dick was a draughtsman. Whatever that actually is.