2 Oceans time again …

2 Oceans time again …

No blog since Stockholm. Well, not much has happened, apart from having my external hard drive stolen out of my “sky-checked” backpack on an SA express flight coming back from George – be warned! What else? Oh, summer seems to have finally shuffled off and winter has arrived – Capetonians are running for cover as the temperatures plummet to below 15 degrees Celsius! – we are such a bunch of wimps!! The heaters are out, the winter duvets are on the beds, we are moaning twice as long and thrice as loud about getting up in the morning…

And it is Easter. Or it was Easter. I think that too has now passed. South Africa has this ridiculous number of holidays around this time of the year: 21^st March (Human Rights Day, the anniversary of the Sharpeville massacre in 1960), 22^nd April (Good Friday), 25^th April (Easter Monday or whatever it is called now – Family Day, I think), 27^th April (Freedom Day, the anniversary of our first democratic elections in 1994), 1^st May (Workers’ Day, except this year we get the 2^nd because the 1^st is a Sunday and the government doesn't want to pee the workers off), 18^th May (voting day for local government elections) and 16^th June (Youth Day, the anniversary of the Soweto uprising in 1976). That makes, by my reckoning, 7 holidays in just under 3 months – not bad work if you can get it. Add two weeks of school and university holidays and you have an entire quarter during which it is very difficult to get anything done. But maybe I shouldn’t complain. After all, I take them too, and my salary doesn’t depend on how many days I work in the month. But I do feel for those in business, particularly owners of small businesses, for whom every day the doors are shut means another plunge in their bottom line.

This time of year is also marathon season, for me anyway. First up is the 2 Oceans, followed by the Safari. Normally they are quite far apart – 4 weeks or so, giving one time to recover from the first before diving into the second - this year they are a mere 9 days apart. 2 Oceans is always run on Easter Saturday; the Safari on the first weekend in May. Of course Easter is a festival which moves with the moon.

The beauty about half marathons is that with a modicum of baseline fitness, one can run them without too much training and still finish in a reasonably respectable time. My friend and colleague, the Handsome Masha, and I have had a busy year – who hasn’t? We tried our best to get on the road every Wednesday evening from 5 to 6 and we probably succeeded about 50% of the time. Then we’d take a gentle 1 hour jog through the leafy green suburbs of Constantia or Newlands, discussing which party not to vote for in the upcoming local elections and why not, whether religion needs philosophy or vice versa, the trials and tribulations of parenting teenagers in 2011, institutional politics and a few other odds and ends – very pleasant, but it doesn’t exactly make one into a running machine. Added to that I had my two games of squash a week against the redoubtable Shag Singe, which are more like episodes in World Wars than sports matches, and my long runs on Saturday mornings – long usually meaning about 11km. Add all that up and it is not a lot. But it is enough to run a half.

Then I discovered something called Endomondo. Well, I didn’t discover it exactly – I read about it in Runners’ World, and went and downloaded it onto my computer and Blackberry. I’ve had it for about a month now and it still blows my mind that all this can fit in a cell phone, and that it is all free. Incredible.  Here’s how it works – when you are setting off you activate the program on your Blackberry or other smart phone. It uses the GPS on the phone to locate and track you. You put in the distance you are running, put your earphones in, start your playlist and start running. At the end of every km it cuts the music, and a sweet sounding female voice says something like, “Your time for the last km was 6.30. Your average time so far is 6.12. Your estimated total time is now 2 hours and 10 minutes.” Or whatever. Then the music comes back on. When you finish, you click finish and it immediately uploads all the info to the website. You can view the map and your stats, including splits, on the phone or on the website, and also your elevation and pace on the latter. Quite incredible.

We (Shinguard's Wake and I) picked up the Handsome Masha from his house in Plumstead at 4.45 a.m. Naturally, it was still dark. We drove through the unnaturally quiet streets of Wynberg, up to the M3 and then through to UCT where we found a parking space high up above Ring Road. We then walked down to the start which is in Main Road, Newlands, perhaps appropriately just in front of the brewery. I believe the field for the half this year was 14,500 or thereabouts. It certainly looked that way – runners everywhere. We dumped our sweaters with Shinguard's, who had kindly agreed to come along, and made our way to the back of the crowd. We were both in Group E – I don’t know how many groups there were. It was still a good 20 minutes until the start so we chatted and enjoyed watching the others. The man at the PA welcomed Dan Plato, the Mayor of Cape Town, who told us what fine people we all are and what a wonderful city we live in (remember there is a local election in under a month and even though he is not standing for re-election, his party is). He was asked whether he would be running next year and his reply was lost in a noise which could equally have been a guffaw or a man choking, I couldn’t tell which. But I guess we should say well done to his worship for making the start. Then they asked for silence and played the National Anthem, which I found strangely moving. This is something new – I don’t recall them doing it in the past (and this is my fourth 2 Oceans, Masha’s fifth). Then we had the countdown and then the gun. That was the start of a rather lengthy anticlimax. After 3 minutes we still hadn’t moved. Then very slowly we began to inch forward, passing over the starting mat at about 4 minutes after the gun. That is a little discouraging. Gradually we managed to speed up to a slow jog, but the truth of it is that the first km took me 10 minutes and 41 seconds, which is a hell of a long time. The second, third and fourth were likewise rather slow, considering they were flat, and it was only on the fifth that I managed anything like a decent time. This is an issue for which the 2 Oceans is apparently quite well known. I have friends and colleagues who refuse to take part in it for this reason – too big, too crowded. I guess one just grins and bears it. Added to that one has the usual problem of slow runners/walkers who have started near the front and are blocking the way. But enough grumbling – it wasn’t that bad.

Soon we were past the 5km mark on Constantia Main Road, and not long thereafter the 10km, on Parish Road Constantia. This was the easy half. Now for Southern Cross – the dreaded Southern Cross. 3-4km of steady uphill. I have done the race enough times now to know that it is doable, albeit not very comfortable. You just have to keep your head down, keep going and ignore the super-fit speed-walkers who overtake you. I was watching my heart rate – it had been in the mid 150’s for most of the race and broke 160 on Southern Cross. I discovered that if I ran the way the speed-walkers walked, I could actually go faster than if I tried running normally. That is not very well explained, but I am not sure how else to explain it – less knee action, keeping one’s feet close to the ground and using one’s quads more. This pushed my pulse to the mid 160’s and I got the odd palpitation so I desisted and throttled back a little, not wanting to become one of the race’s negative statistics or give the paramedics on the ambulances any extra work.

A highlight of the race for me is always the music groups along the way – brass bands, drum troops, dancers – as well as the crowds of ordinary people standing along the edge and cheering us on. One’s name and age category are writ fairly large on one’s label, so they can read something about you and I got quite a few shouts of encouragement. At the top of the uphill, one hears the novices tell each other “At last – thank God it is all downhill from here”, which of course it isn’t – it undulates for a few kms, then goes down and then kicks you in the teeth in the last 3km up the M3. But anything is better than sweating up Southern Cross and so the mood is justifiably ebullient once one has turned that corner. The other thing about that particular piece of road is that it has been built with quite a vicious camber which makes running difficult and sometimes treacherous.

Soon we were at the top gate of the Kirstenbosch Gardens. Here they have a shower tent – one can choose to run through and get sprayed, which is a nice thought. Then down past the main gate, and along Rhodes Drive to the M3. I could see that I was going to get to the intersection at almost exactly 2 hours, and was hoping this would be good enough to get me home in less than 2:15. As usual I underestimated the last 3km – it is a stretch I have run many times on Wednesday afternoons and I always enjoy it. Somehow at the end of 18km of tough running, it doesn’t hold quite the same attraction – it is like purgatory, step by painful step. But one keeps going because, well one just does. Finally the UCT rugby fields come into view and it is just a case of pulling it all together for the last 500m. Again these are deceptive – the grass seems to slow one down. Maybe it is just the imagination. On the other hand, one has the crowds and the cheering and the man on the PA shouting all sorts of crazy things and it feels great. The digital clock read 2:17 as I crossed the line – not my best but not too bad for a relatively old fart like me.

And then it is over – medal, phone herself to let her know that one is not in ICU (yet), coke, sausage roll, tea and rusk, apple, the (really) painful climb over the bridge and up the stairs to Rugby Road, collapse on the grass verge and wait for the others. Shinguard's Wake materialised out of the ether, and about 10 minutes later the Handsome Masha did likewise. He had done a 2.53. We exchanged congratulations and then headed for the car. As we left the campus and headed south on the M3 the first runners in the ultra 56km race were just arriving – they had managed 56km in just a little more than we had taken for 21km. Incredible. Great race. There’s a reason it attracts 25 000 runners between the races – it really is a great race. Roll on 2 Oceans 2012.

Race stats courtesy of endomondo - what a great program.

Title	Two Oceans Half Marathon
Sport	Running
Start Time	Apr 23, 2011 6:00 AM
Distance	21.28 km
Duration	2h:17m:32s
Avg Speed	6:28 min/km
Max Speed	4:07 min/km
Calories	1801 kcal
Altitude	51 m / 225 m
Elevation	227 m ↑ / 165 m ↓

The Knysna Forest Half Marathon OR A Day of Low Rats

Wilderness National Park, looking West

Our cottage. 

The maintenance staff religiously flattened the molehills 

every morning and a few hours later they were back.

The serene and beautiful Touw River

Yellow-wood tree on the banks of the Touw

Flowering aloes in abundance everywhere

Fork tailed drongo in tree

The Knysna Forest Half Marathon OR A Day of Low Rats

I’ll explain the Low Rats later. This race has a reputation – quite a few friends have told me “You’ve gotta run the Knysna Forest – what a beautiful race.” So last year I entered and paid, but never got here – it is 5 hours drive from Cape Town and I was travelling right up until the day before.  I swore at the time I’d get it right this year and I did.

The race forms part of the Knysna Oyster Festival which is a week long (? 2 weeks) string of sales, promotions, competitions, family activities, sports – what do I know? – the focus seems to be on these mucoid masses that come in rather ugly shells, cost R10 a pop, taste like nothing (except lemon juice and Tabasco sauce), have to be drunk with a glass of Graca and for some unfathomable reason are very popular. Not with us, in case you couldn’t tell.

Wednesday

The rest of the family was on vacation or leave so we decided to make it a family thing. I booked a family cottage at the Ebb and Flow Camp of the Wilderness National Park. We left Cape Town at 10 a.m. and took a fairly leisurely drive along the N2, stopping at Riviersonderend for a coffee and Steer Burger – Wacky Wednesday, 2-for-the-price-of-1. We picked up a Kia Picanto at the George Airport for the business part of the trip and I was pleasantly surprised by the little car – OK, no power steering and no AC but everything else was fine.

I picked up a guy at the airport who needed a lift to Thembalethu – he was wearing a reflective jacket which I assumed meant he worked on the runway. It also reassured me that he was probably well intentioned. Of course the conversation fell to football. He didn’t have much good to say about our national team – said they had lost because they were more concerned about money than about representing their country. He may be right – I wouldn't know. Point is they have been kicked out. The French, Danish and Japanese teams had been staying in Knysna until their respective exits from the Tournament and he had seen something of all of them. He spoke about the unifying effect that the World Cup had had on South Africans – “gees”, “Ayoba”, “Se Nako”  – we have all learnt some new words, most of them not English. I told him I had heard the national rugby coach sulking, “I am sick of soccer. I don’t even know who is in the semi-finals!” and I predicted the demise of rugby as the national sport of white South Africans. Sorry, mnr. de Villiers, but football has done something that rugby never did – we have been bitten by the bug, and we’re not going back to braaivleis, rugby, sunny skies and Chevrolet – well, not the rugby anyway. Take your place in the queue, and it isn’t at the front.

The Ebb and Flow cottages are in the flood plain of the Touw River. Actually I’m not sure whether it is a lagoon or a river since it doesn’t seem to flow. Maybe it flows in the wet season and Wilderness is in the middle of a really bad drought. The cottage had everything we wanted except that 3 nights in a row we couldn’t get a fire going in the fireplace, despite buying firewood and firelighters from Pick ‘n Pay and spending what seemed like hours coaxing and blowing and cajoling. I think it was the wood. The last time this happened was a Christmas braai at my in-laws, to which they had invited about 20 people – I simply couldn’t get it going and in the end we had to cook it in the oven under the grill. Most embarrassing.

Our first night there was also the occasion of the second World Cup semi-final – Germany versus Spain. This was a huge game in anyone’s book, but especially for us since herself has some serious German roots. Also, we both really enjoy the German team, which seems young and enthusiastic and has played some really attractive football during the tournament. Sadly it wasn’t to be – they just didn’t spark on the night and although they didn’t play badly, Spain played better, including a brilliant header which got them their one goal. So Germany were eliminated. We shall be reduced to supporting Holland, with South Africa, Ghana and now Germany gone.

Thursday and Friday

We did a few walks in the Park - up the Touw River. Herself and I stayed in one of the rondawels there when she was pregnant with Princess Firstborn and it brought back some good memories. Of course that was in January, hot and steamy and mosquito infested - very different from frosty July. There were dassies on the cliffs, a few waterbirds on the river, a fork tailed drongo flitting in and out of the trees. The aloes were all in bloom, quite glorious.

Saturday

I was originally going to sleep over in Knysna the night before the race and had booked myself a room at the Montessori hostel for the purpose. When I registered for the race on the Friday  afternoon, however, the race inquiries guy told me that it only takes 35 minutes to drive through from Wilderness and that if I left by 5 a.m. I would have ample time to make the 6 a.m. deadline. In fact the real deadline was 7.15 but they were advising people to arrive early. So I cancelled the school hostel – sounded rather Spartan anyway. Somehow, we managed to get the princesses up at 4.30 to leave at 5 a.m. It was still dark when we got to Knysna. We found a parking space right next to the Finishing marquis. I left the family and walked the 2.4km to the start at Loerie Park – normally it would be a scary walk in the dark, but there were lots of runners doing it and I just followed the crowds down the running path along the lagoon shore into George Rex Avenue and along to Loerie Park where we joined a 4-abreast queue which seemed to be about a kilometer long but probably wasn’t. The front part of it was disappearing periodically into buses and minibus taxis. I was hoping to get onto a bus but it wasn’t to be – I found myself on a minibus. Next thing we were off. The first km was fine because it was uphill and the taxi being full, old and underpowered couldn't go very fast. The turn across the traffic onto the N2 was touch and go but we made it. More uphill and then left to Nekkies up the R339. That’s when it got really scary because the road undulated and the driver gunned it on the downhills like his life depended on it. Somehow we got there in one piece.

We disembarked onto a tar road in a pine plantation and walked along a well lit path for some 500m to the gathering point for the half marathon at a place called “Glebe” (really?). The full marathon runners had already left at 7. There was an extremely long queue for the loo’s – made up virtually entirely of women. Enough said. We men had all gone in the forest. We had about 45 minutes to wait while the buses and taxi’s rolled in with the rest of the 6000 athletes. Some young men and youths were congregating just off the road, in the plantation – clearly not runners and I had trouble at first working out who they were. Several had large black plastic bags. The race marshals came and shouted at them once or twice, but did not chase them away – seemed to be OK as long as they kept their distance. So it turns out that there is a tradition attached to this race – given that the start is often in cold and misty conditions, runners come with an extra layer which may be an old sweater or T shirt or blanket and when the race starts they leave it with these “Forest people”. Nice thought. Unfortunately all I had was the Pick ‘n Pay plastic apron so that is what they got. The fellow with the microphone made a lot of light conversation but he did warn us that because of the change of finish venue, they had had to put in a 3km loop in the forest and that “it has a few uphills so don’t use up all your energy at the start!” We should have listened better.

We started running at 8 a.m. sharp. The first 2 km were a steady climb uphill which, though unwelcome, did result in the field spreading out and there was never really a problem with space, the way there is in the 2 Oceans HM. Then we turned right onto a dirt track, a plantation road, and we undulated our way along it for about 5 or 6 km. I found the lack of distance markers a bit frustrating as I was hoping for a good time on this ostensibly downhill and fast run and I couldn’t gauge my pace properly. But apart from that it was a lovely run. There was a fair bit of up and down, especially down, but nothing to stress the muscles too badly. We passed two water points. I had a headache and wondered whether I might be dehydrated so quaffed a few cups of Coke or Pepsi, I forget which it was, and took water sachets whenever I could. Around about the 8km mark, we were directed to the right down a subsidiary road. The downhill led us to an opening – we overlooked a very steep decline, at the bottom of which we could see the line of runners snaking along and, worse, snaking up the other side. An Afrikaans lady next to me voiced some concern to her friend about the coming "oppie". According to the official documents we dropped about 100m in the space of around 3km, and then climbed out again in about 2km, which brought up the 14km or 2/3 marker. In all the half marathons I have run (7 now) I have never walked, but this time I walked. I walked because the steepness of the hill reduced me to a pace where the walkers next to me were keeping up with me, even overtaking me. I walked because my pulse rate was hitting 170. Walked 30 paces, ran 20, until I got to the top. It was sheer purgatory.

The next 3km were mostly downhill. Again, we descended about 100m in 3km. Pleasant running,  There were some real characters on the run who kept everyone’s spirits up with their commentary and chit-chat. One fellow from PE said on a particularly nasty uphill “Gee I really miss the X5”. There were four guys in orange shirts and wigs, carrying a Dutch flag, another fellow draped in a Spanish flag and a young lady with pink bunny ears, pick tutu and pink socks. Well, it takes all types. Runners are a fun lot.

Then we got to a very larney, up market golf estate – I forget the name and it isn’t on the route map but suffice to say I couldn’t have afforded one of the garden fences, let alone one of the houses. OK, fine, I am not here to criticize the opulence of super rich South Africans – leave that for another blog. But I will say that the road down the mountain from their airy estate was one of the steepest descents I have ever had to run. We went from just under 200m to sea level in under 2km – by my calculations that is a gradient of 200m/2000m or 1:10, which may not sound bad, but that was the average and there were stretches where it was as much as we could do to stop our feet running away with us. I could feel my toes crunching into the front of my running shoes, could envisage the blood blisters forming, could hear my quads complaining with every step, my knee joint surfaces slamming into each other. I was going to have to pay for this, I knew.

Which is where the “low rats” come in. Running along the forest roads reminded me of a road sign one often sees on mountain passes in South Africa – heavy vehicles engage low gear, which in Afrikaans is a “lae rat”. So here’s the thing: low rats are needed when you go uphill (to give you more torque) and when you go downhill (to stop the vehicle running away). When you have a course which is all up and down, you spend most of the time in low rat. Hence, a predominantly downhill course like this is not necessarily a fast course.

After what seemed like an eternity we got to the bottom of the pass and the N2. They took us under the main road on a boardwalk which appeared to have been built specially for the purpose, and then along the newly bricked sidewalk along the N2. An elderly bystander encouraged us: “Well done, only 2km to go”. My legs felt like lead. Try as I might I just couldn’t find the energy to pick up the pace and get in under 2.15. Runners passed me in droves – where they found their energy I have no idea. I just knew that all I had in me was to keep going at around 9 km/h to the finish line. So in the end it was a 2.20, my worst time this year.  Herself and the princesses were near the finish line waiting for me, full of encouragement and congratulations. I picked up my medal and complementary cold-drink and we made our way down to the Knysna waterfront for a bit of R and R – starting with a large latte and followed up some time later by a “monster pizza” from Pannarotti’s, washed down with a glass of some rather sharp but basically OK red house wine. Which also gave me a good excuse  not to drive back to Wilderness – actually I wasn’t sure I’d be able to bend my legs, but the wine finalized it.

Back at the cottage I soaked luxuriantly in a hot tub foamed up with the herbal stuff that came in my goody bag. Heavenly, except for the fact that it burnt my chafed nipples like fire, but that is probably too much information entirely. I then lay on the couch and fell asleep while the princesses watched “High School Musical 2” for about the hundredth time. The sky had become overcast and soon the rain was pouring down. The temperature had dropped a good few degrees. Unwilling to try yet another unsuccessful fire, I turned on the electric heather and cranked it up to full, put on a few extra layers of clothes, fetched a blanket and drifted off again. Tonight is the 3^rd-4^th place playoff between Germany and Uruguay which we’ll watch. Tomorrow is the final but we’ll be back in Cape Town.

Sunday

Well, the rain continued through the night, and at times it was really heavy. The playoff game in Port Elizabeth was a cracker, with Germany emerging victorious by 3 goals to 2, but it was played in heavy rain at times which made things interesting, but presumably really difficult for the players. By dawn this morning it was still bucketing down and I began to worry that we wouldn’t make it out before the rivers flooded and the roads closed, but we were OK, trundling up the Kaaiman’s River Pass without too much hassle. As we drove west the cloud lifted and the rain lessened, until by Swellendam the sun was out and we were treated to some stunning views of the snow capped Langeberg to the North.

All in all an interesting race. Will I do it again next year? Not sure my knees will take it, but I’ll think about it.  I like Knysna. I like Wilderness and this whole stretch of coastline with its vleis and lagoons and rivers and beaches.  Part of me wants to move here, but that isn’t unusual in my travels. It does seem that there is a different rhythm to life here. Something to think about ….

And tomorrow back to the rat race. The low rat race.

2 Oceans Half 2010 and other tales of insanity

They don't look like much but I am very fond of them ...

They sit here for a few hours after every long run. They like the view and I think it helps the smell.

I have developed the habit of entering the 2 Oceans Half Marathon (2OHM) early. This is partly because it has become a very popular race and the organisers close the entries when they get to 11,500 for the half, but it is also because I seldom feel properly prepared to run and if I had the option of deciding whether to enter or not closer to the time, I suspect I should often chicken out. This way I know I have paid my hundred bucks or whatever and my Scottish ancestry kicks in - I am going to run that race whatever happens.

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!

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.

Labour Day

Labour Day

I ran the Safari half marathon in Wellington this morning. As usual not enough time to prepare - did a couple of long runs weekends but nothing much else so wasn't expecting a fantastic time. Set the alarm for 4.30 but the clock time was wrong so it went off at 3.30. Finally dragged myself out of bed at the right hour. Let the dogs out to wee and had a glass of apple juice myself. Recently read an article in Runner's World about runners who had got caught short doing marathons and had to visit the nearest bush and use their socks for loo roll - so made sure I visited the throne room before leaving. Broken hearted, paid a cent etc. Put on my gear, bade my half awake dbw farewell and headed for the northeastern territories about 5.15. It was still pitch dark and there was a spatter of drizzle but not too bad all things told. Listened to the somewhat inane banter on Talk Radio with "Udo". I gather it is short for Rudolph. Nice enough guy. Some folk phoned in with funny jokes. Well almost funny. Nothing is hilarious at 5.30 am.

Picked my sister up at 6 - she was coming for the ride and to support me but not running this time - still recovering from the 2 Oceans. We managed to just about get lost in Paarl, due largely to roadworks, poor signage, bad driving (some of it mine) and generally adverse weather conditions. I started to worry about the time - it was 6.45 and the race started at 7.15. We switched on the Blackberry GPS and after that it was a little easier. I needn't have worried - I made it in good time. There was a large crowd behind the tape. They said something about a field of 5000 for the half. There was a good vibe. Still a bit of light rain but nothing to write home about. Just before the start we had a minute's silence for those killed in the Paarl printing works fire. From the buzz of conversation to absolute silence - it was quite spooky but very beautiful in a sad way. Poor buggers.

A short speech by the madam mayor of wherever and then we were off. The race starts with a short and very steep uphill, then levels off. I must say it was nice after the 2 Oceans to have some room to move. I slotted in behind the 2 hour pace keeper ("bus") and stayed with him for about 5 km. After that I seemed to be keeping pace with a guy slightly older than me with a big"Run with Jesus" label on his vest. Never thought of Jesus as a runner, but what do I know. We ran out of town and then turned onto a dirt road. The smells were interesting to say the least - manure, that rotten grapes smell one often gets around vineyards, woodfires from the labourers' cottages. All along the road, outside nearly every farm there were groups of farm folk, even in the rain. Kids shouting "Hou bene Hou! Hou bene Hou!" and holding out their hands to be "high fived". The spirit was amazing.

At about the halfway mark the rain got heavier, the wind picked up and it became a tad unpleasant. My shoes and socks were starting to get wet. Some of the runners had light "second skin" type of apparel which they put on. They rest of us grinned and bore it. The second half of the race has some pretty mean hills. Meanest of all is the fact that at about 15km one passes through Wellington East and one is within earshot of the stadium where the winners are coming in - you can hear the public address system and the applause - but then you go out of town again and follow a long curve to come in from the south I guess.

At 18km I was distinctly uncomfortable on account of the previous night's muesli and yoghurt. There is a lesson there of course. I wasn't sure whether I would be able to last until the finish. My prayers were answered in the form of a small outhouse next to the refreshment table and I gratefully "abluted" before resuming the race. In retrospect it cost me a few minutes but gave me a second wind (no pun intended) and allowed me to complete the final few km at a good pace. I finished in 2:15 which is no great shakes for a serious runner, but I was quite happy with it. 2 years ago I did a sub-2h in this race but I was fitter and the weather was better.

My sister was waiting with a mini-bar-one, banana, towel and jacket. There was a bit of a damper on the rest of the activities which are nornally part of this event - live bands, braaivleis and the like, so we decided not to stick around.  I phoned my dbw to let her know that I had not ended up in the coronary ICU of the local hospital or the morgue and that I would meet her at the shopping mall in about an hour. Then we found the car and headed back to Cape Town where most sensible people were just getting out of bed. We almost got lost in Paarl again! The GPS lady got increasingly irritated as we disobeyed one instruction after another. Finally found the N1 and after that it was plain sailing.

Next is the Robertson half in about a month. Can't wait!