Last updated: 2023-03-11
Notice: © 2013 to 2023, Chris R. Burger. This document may be reproduced as required for personal use, and may be freely referenced from other Websites. However, publication elsewhere, in full or in part, requires express prior written permission from the author, and strict adherence to reference guidelines.
Chris R. Burger is a researcher, engineer, pilot and former road safety professional who is valiantly trying to return to normality after severing all his left knee ligaments in a 2014 running accident. He regularly runs road races in Gauteng North, near Pretoria, South Africa. He writes under the name of Yeti, after the Abominably Slow Man. He loves to record his experiences and share them with others, but could no longer bear the aspersions of illiteracy cast by the Agapé Athletics Club newsletter's MSWord Auto-Correct. On this page, text is written in a text editor without a spell-checker, and all errors are entirely the author's own doing. However, the slow running is obviously all attributable to the altitude (about 1500 m) and his age (58).
Most recent races are first; older races are listed in reverse order. I started this collection late in 2016, and it is essentially complete from that date. Older reports are few and far between, and have been added to the list.
Races older than 2022 have now been moved to a separate page: Yeti's Race Reports: History.
My running has had to take a back seat this week. I didn't run on the previous weekend. I didn't run on Thursday, as Hanri had other fish to fry. With a total of 10 km on the clock for the entire week, I suppose I should have tackled the Bobbies half marathon. Instead, I resolved to do the Carnival City Parkrun, where event number 12 was taking place. I collected Alet at 06:20 and Laurens at 06:40 (generously ignoring minor deviations in both cases) and arrived at the venue exactly at 07:30. I set off by muself to warm up, as Laurens is still nursing a foot injury. The area seemed perfect for a Parkrun. The trail wound through a large grass field with wooded areas here and there. There was some evidence of mud, but after a few rainless days the mud was not going to be a major factor. I was decidedly lazy, covering not quite 2 km in my warmup. I made a quick pit stop before reporting at the start line. Announcments were relatively brief and we started less than a minute late. The field was large, perhaps over 300 runners. At least a dozen dogs were in attendance.
I settled into a relatively fast rhythm. The customary primary school kids had dropped out when we reached the 1 km mark. I was around 20th position. The time worried me—we were well under five minutes, a pace that I could certainly not sustain. I deliberately slowed down. The next km passed in almost exactly five minutes. It was somewhat more reasonable, but still probably faster than I could sustain. I started walking fairly regularly, hoping that I would regain my aerobic state before it was too late. The remainder of the route was completely routine, except for the youngster wearing a headset and weaving from side to side. He almost tripped me up several times, but remained blissfully unaware of his effect on those behind him. By the time the 4 km mark went by, I was well on my way to a respectable finish, well below the 28 minute mark that I have been maintaining recently.
The last km required considerable resolve. I walked perhaps a quarter of the time, finally crossing the line at just over 26 minutes. Two runners passed me in this phase. I expected to be 23rd, but actually received tag number 21. I was pleased, both in terms of my placing and in terms of my time. Perhaps I'll finally return to some semblance of fitness one day...
Laurens arrived about three minutes later in 50th place. We sat down in the shade. A woman joined us and chatted about Parkruns (what else?). I introduced her to the magic of Parkrun tourism, something she had never heard of. With her 370-odd Parkruns, she is bound to qualify for many milestones! Finally, Alet arrived and we set off. On the way home, we stopped at an appliance shop and at a breakfast joint. It turned out to be an enjoyable morning. Now if I can soon catch forty winks, it could be a great Saturday!
The Good: Great route. Good distance markers. Returning to a slightly more respectable time.
The Bad: Not much, really.
The Ugly: The gamblers' trap next door. Decades of sunlight have turned the once-festive decorations decidedly tatty.
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I don't know why I can't resist the relentless peer pressure. Despite desperate sleep deprivation, I was woken at 04:50 by my alarm clock. Despite the heavy rain of the last few days, Laurens had promised that it wouldn't rain today. He lied. I found my way to our meeting point through patches of not-so-gentle rain. At the meeting point, it started persistently raining. Laurens and Hanri were late. I phoned them to cancel. Hanri was having none of it. They collected me around 05:40. I explained to Hanri how she just had to go north on Hans Coverdale West, then east on Hans Coverdale North, then south on Hans Coverdale East, then west on Hans Coverdale South, and then repeat. She didn't seem like my directions were helpful, but she did express her profound gratitude. While frowning.
It was raining. Traffic was lighter than I expected, but we got stuck in a motorcade of Outsurance traffic wardens. They must have loved the rain their bikes were negotiating. There were few cars, and we found parking right at the gate. Laurens and Hanri had pre-entered, so I ran inside alone. I entered within seconds, ran outside and found my way to the start. It was raining. I found Laurens and Hanri mid-bunch. I saw Melani up ahead. We started about three minutes late. It was raining. I puddle-hopped to keep my shoes as dry as possible. We negotiated the winding roads around Hans Coverdale West. There were few spectators, completely ruining the festive atmosphere that this race is famous for.
We climbed up the hill. It was raining. I walked occasionally, gradually losing time to my planned pace. Despite my best efforts, my shoes were completely soaked by the 5 km mark. At least the loud band that is normally at the highest point was not there. I suppose it is because it was raining. Unfortunately they were there, just a few hundred metres down the road. On the descent, I managed to make up a bit of time. I noticed that the distance markers were broken; the 18 km marker was just after the 7 km marker, and all the following markers were similarly displaced. I passed the 10 km mark about three minutes late.
As I entered the second lap, I was sorely tempted to quit. Sorely, because my right foot was hurting. My thighs were chafing, as the rain turned my shorts into sandpaper. A runner next to me berated me because "you white people" apparently never pitch up for township races. He'd said so himself on Facebook this week, so it had to be true. I pointed out the obvious observation that I'm mostly white, by all appearances. He told me to shut up and listen to him for a change. I did. It was raining. Climbing the hill for the second time, I lost lots of time. Around the 16 km mark, Hanri and Lindsay caught me from behind. Laurens was nowhere to be seen. I asked her, and she told me that he'd told her to continue without him. I just hoped that the same fate wasn't going to befall me. In the loop on the second lap, I realised that my directions had been incomplete. Just before turning into Helium for the highest climb, we went west in Hans Coverdale North for a while. I have to remember that for next time.
On the descent, it was raining. I managed to catch Hanri, who had gained on me in the climb. Around the 18 km mark, I managed to gain a lead on Hanri and her clubmate. I occasionally walked, but they stayed just behind me. As we entered the venue, I heard an official welcoming "Phobians" just behind me. I could even hear the chatter between Hanri and her clubmate. The ground was muddy and plastic tape barred us from running on the relatively dry patches. It was raining. I slogged around the track with my shoes sinking up to 50 mm into the ground. I finished in 2:12-odd, with Hanri right behind me. The runners in the lane ahead of me were in no hurry. We slowly sauntered through water up to 200 mm deep. It was raining. I heard the announcement that Danie had won the veteran category.
I made my way to the Agape tent, where Hennie and Marix were in attendance. Josias was sipping a hot coffee. Hennie announced that he had my 2023 licence, but that he had lost our club's block of short numbers. After almost a decade, I was going to lose my AGN66 in favour of some random number with 17 digits. I was inconsolable. I was even more inconsolable when Hanri declined our magnanimous invitation to breakfast. What is wrong with her? Laurens dropped me off, then dropped her off, then joined me for a hearty breakfast. I could hardly walk due to the chafed thighs. It was raining.
The Good: I suppose I survived another half marathon. And I beat Hanri.
The Bad: Plodding through incessant rain. Few spectators. Losing my favourite number.
The Ugly: Having my tender li'l skin grated beyond repair.
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Having actually survived a half marathon, I felt bold enough to try another one this week. Laurens was planning to do the 10 km race. Hanri was going to do her own thing a little later in the day. Ken informed me that Walter was going to collect him at 05:15. I could not get in touch with Walter, so I decided to arrive at his house at 05:05. I met him on the street a block from his house. He fortunately spotted me, allowing me to park in his yard and hop into his car. We collected Ken and arrived at the venue around 05:40. We easily found parking, entered and sauntered to the start. We positioned ourselves around a third from the front. I briefly chatted to Iain, who now sports a "75" age category badge.
We started exactly on time. I wallowed awkwardly, suffering from after-effects of a Friday morning run. I was hoping to beat 6:00/km. At the 1 km mark, I was about 45 s behind schedule. Hendrik ran just ahead of me. To my amazement, he didnít have a niece with him. We soon tackled the climb to Stanza Bopape Street. Passing the Presidency, I was around 80 s behind the pace. I wasnít too worried, as I could make up on the descent back towards Soutpansberg Road. Ken and Walter stayed just behind me. On the descent, the lead car for the 10 km race passed us. The leader passed the 7 km mark at 22 minutesójust outside 3:00/km! Walter and Ken cruised past on the descent. As I struggled to make up the deficit, they took a break at a water point. I sailed past, reaching the 10 km mark about 20 s inside the pace. I was feeling relatively well, but by no means unscathed.
I took a walk break to consume a gel on the way up the hill. Walter and Ken passed me at the Union Buildings. Passing Colbyn, I was again lagging just over a minute behind the pace. This time, I used the descent to good effect, but on the flats I was struggling to make up lost time. I edged past Ken and Walter. At the 19 km mark, I was about 40 s behind the pace. I would have to maintain a 5:20/km pace to make up the deficit. At least the terrain was relatively flat, maybe even slightly downhill. I was surprised to see Melani in front of me, and even more surprised that I was able to overtake her. The last km or two became a test of endurance, as I was feeling decidedly worn by now. A final nasty surprise waited at the finish: The grass was untrimmed and soaked, with my shoes sinking into the messy quagmire. I finished just under 2:07, about 25 s outside the pace. I suppose I could always pretend that the time we lost at the start is at fault...
Despite the unspectacular time, I am satisfied. I have not entered for Comrades, but I would like to keep up with Laurens and Hanri in their training programme, and being unable to do real distance would make it hard to do so. I am pleased that I am regaining some ability to plod through at least moderate distances again.
The Good: Perfect running weather. Good arrangements and distance markers. Grapetiser afterwards, courtesy of Ken.
The Bad: Missing my target by half a minute, despite my best efforts.
The Ugly: Having to walk back to the car.
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I haven't exceeded 10 km in a single session since August. I couldn't keep up with the group in the 8 km time trial on Tuesday. I'm therefore not sure how I allowed Hanri to talk me into a half marathon. Especially not one that scales the lofty heights of the Magalies ridge—twice! Nevertheless, I dutifully went to bed early and rose to the sound of my alarm clock at 05:15. Hanri did not answer her phone, so I had no arrangements to meet her. I had a hasty breakfast before hitting the road, arriving at the Faerie Glen Pick n Pay at 05:45. I found parking inside, within spitting distance of the entry tables. I carefully looked out for Hanri, without success. I decided to start near the front of the bunch, hoping that Hanri would overtake me sooner or later.
We started exactly at 06:00. I didn't even set my stopwatch. I had very little strategy to work with. Perhaps the full extent of it was that I would not go faster than 6:00/km. To do so would amount to suicide. At 1 and 2 km, I was on track. I gradually overtook Ken. He didn't notice me, or at least he didn't respond. Elma asked if I would be running Comrades again. She obviously doesn't know me well. The third kilometre went by a little too quickly, so I restrained myself. Soon, we started hitting the uphills. I passed the Lombards' house. I envied them, as their curtains were still drawn. Mandy sailed past. A couple from Harrismith ran down the hill, speculating about a coming steep climb. I told them to look out for the name "Stonewall". If they saw that name, they would know. A R 20 note lay on the road. I saw several runners do a double-take, but no-one stopped to pick it up. I'm not sure if it reflects on the steepness of the downhill or on the value of our currrency. As we hit Stonewall, Ken was about 200 m ahead. I lost about three minutes on that climb. I had a gel and some water around the one-third mark. Sailing downhill towards the halfway mark, I heard a snide remark about Cannibals Cave behind me. Pieter O turned right to the finish, while I turned left for more of the same. I found it amusing that he knew about my recent The Reeds results, and I about his. I passed the 10 km mark at 1:03.
I chatted to Adelle, complaining loudly that Hanri had lured me into this torture and then let me down. Adelle agreed that Hanri owed me. We scaled Stonewall again, turning right into the loop. To my amazement, Ken was just 200 m ahead of me. I lost another six minutes on the climb. I had another gel around the two-thirds mark. I found Neville in front of his house. I was delighted to hear that he had run the 10 km race. He seems to be almost back to normality! In the loop, I saw Ken ahead and Hanri behind. I berated her for letting me down. She berated me for running away from her. The last 3 km was a test of endurance. I tried to keep the speed up, but had to take regular walks to survive. Elma and Wayne passed me on the descent, gradually disappearing into the distance. I finished in just under 2:17. Hanri finished under a minute later—she'd obviously caught up on the last stretch.
I could not find my car. I suppose my glycogen level was pretty low. Hanri helped me look for it. I really thought for a while that my car might have found a new owner. I was very happy for my car, but I could hardly imagine the disruption, with credit cards, tools, ID cards, keys and whatever else needing replacement. Fortunately, I eventually found my car, just where I had left it, and perhaps 100 m from where I was looking. I dropped Hanri at her car—uhm—truck.
I'm relieved that I was able to survive a half marathon. Given that I'd struggled to keep up with the 8 km time trial on Tuesday, I wasn't sure that I could make it, but I appear to be relatively unscathed. My left knee and my hips are slightly sore, but I'm hoping I'll be back to normal this week.
The Good: Surviving a half marathon.
The Bad: CGA10612 with his ghetto blaster.
The Ugly: 2:17...
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With my Parkrun project behind me, I had the choice of either never doing a Parkrun again, or swallowing the indignity of earning a 50 shirt and pursuing a few secondary goals. I opted for the latter.
Iíve completed event numbers 1 to 11. I decided to use the opportunity to add another relatively low event number, as The Reeds was presenting its event 15 this weekend. Invitations to Alet, Hanri, Ken and Elaine went unheeded. Laurens agreed to come, although he was adamant he wanted to drive separately due to other commitments. Accordingly, I left home alone, a few minutes late, and arrived at the venue around 07:35. I didn't strap my rib cage; I was hoping that I wasn't setting myself up for failure. To warm up, I jogged and (mostly) walked about 3 km on the route. I met Laurens coming the other way, just a few hundred metres from the start.
The run director provided a briefing that contained a lot of waffle and little information. We started exactly on time. Unusually, there were no primary school kids ahead of me. The surface was very uneven, but relatively level. After about 1 km, I was jockeying for position between ninth and 13th place. I passed the 2 km marker at 10:15, much too fast. Soon after, a young man with a dog and a woman passed me. 3 km came just under 16 minutes. The dog took a toilet break, and I was able to sail past. There was no-one behind me for at least a minute, but there were several runners in front of me. I gnashed my teeth to try and keep up, without much success. The pace stayed just below 6:00/km, right to the end.
I finished in somewhat over 28 minutes, in 13th place. Laurens came home about three minutes later, in 22nd place. At least weíll both make it into the Fastest 500. That's the advantage of a low event number, after all!
The Good: Getting Parkrun event number 15.
The Bad: Uneven surface. No 1 km distance marker. Over 28 minutes, yet again!
The Ugly: I'll have to get used to this red "50" flag next to my name...
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The time has finally come: I need to do the Cannibals Cave Parkrun. It will be my 49th Parkrun. It will be my 48th different venue. It will be my first Parkrun with a "C", the last letter I need to spell my registered Parkrun name. And it will be the last Parkrun I can do without earning that pesky "50" banner before my name in the Parkrun Tourist list.
Itís a bit of a drive, so I needed an excuse. The excuse came in the form of an invitation from Alet to join a family weekend in the Drakensberg. I decided to take the plunge. To make the drive worth while, I would also try to do some balloon flying in the same area.
Unfortunately, my balloon flying plans did not pan out. By Friday morning, I had more or less resolved not to take my balloon. There was another potential complication: KZN was subject to torrential rains. As that particular Parkrun has a history of being thwarted by flooding, Alet was concerned that it might be cancelled. I checked their Website, which showed no indication of a pending cancellation. I also stumbled across Pieter Oís name in last weekís results. It gave me a great excuse to call him and catch up. He provided me with a lot of useful information about the environment and the Parkrun, having just returned from a fortnight in that area.
On Friday afternoon after work, I had to decide whether I was going to run the risk of driving down despite some uncertainty about the Parkrun. I decided to take the plunge. I arrived in the Champagne Valley around 21:00, and made my way to bed around 22:30. By then, there was considerable uncertainty about who would join us the next morning. Some felt that the nearby Winterton Parkrun offered a much less painful and less risky alternative. I had a restive nightís sleep, due inter alia to my cracked rib. Pain woke me up at least half a dozen times. Nevertheless, I woke up refreshed at 05:40, a few minutes before the alarm clock. I left shortly after 06:00, with Alet, Lia, Stoffel and Lategan in the car.
En route, I kept my eyes peeled for balloons. Sure enough, approaching Winterton I noticed a passenger balloon in a field. I drove off the road, but could not get all the way to the balloon to say hello. The ground was soaked, and I dared not enter the field for fear of getting bogged down. I left a message with the recovery bus driver and continued towards Cannibals Cave. We arrived exactly at 07:30 as planned, taking a drive up the road to explore the route. An orange marker was placed at the turn point. The route was forebodingly steep, but it was all on a tarred road, if you ignore the huge pile of debris at the entrance to the bridge. At least there was enough space for a vehicle to squeak by.
After the scouting trip, I started warming up. I quickly became aware that Iíd forgotten to strap my fragile rib cage. After corrective action, I did a further 2 km before returning to the start.
Lizzy was unavailable, being somewhat unwell and having to look after an ailing parent. This time, there were around 20 starters. Muzi, the run director, did the briefing. It was to the point and clear, and we set off just after 08:00. Stoffel and Lategan stormed ahead. I restrained myself, starting only slightly too fast. After about five minutes, they led me by about 100 and 10 m respectively. Climbing up a steep hill, Lategan suddenly started walking. I struggled past, slowly catching up on Stoffel. Soon, a forty-something man wearing earpieces slowly cruised past and attached himself to Stoffel. They turned almost together, about 1:20 before me. No-one was visible behind me. I continued to walk and run, while watching the two leaders slowly recede into the distance. Alet and Lia were doing the tail walker thing. I passed them about halfway home. There was another runner behind them, making good time—probably a late starter. I finished around 28:07, slower than usual but probably not too bad, given the slopes. Stoffel was prostrate on the grass, having beaten the Space Cadet for first prize. At least he was paying for his exuberance. I struck up a conversation with Muzi, while around 23 runners finished. Lategan came home 10th. As expected, the intrepid tail walkers came home last, in about 1:09. We chatted to Muzi for a while longer, then headed home. The 90-minute drive was interrupted by four shopping stops and brunch. We even had the opportunity to watch a medevac from El Mirador in a Bell 430, before arriving home well after mid-day.
My Parkrun project is finally over. Iíve completed 49 Parkruns in 48 locations. Iím the top South African Parkrun tourist without a T-shirt. Iíve completed event numbers 1 to 11. Iíve spelled my name using Parkrun event names. Iíve done a Parkrun in every month of the year. There are a few remaining goals, though. One is to do a Parkrun on every day of the week. Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Saturday are in the bag. Monday, Thursday and Friday remain. Unfortunately, opportunities to complete the full set are few and far between, so that project will take some time. The other is to complete all provinces; only EC and NC remain. Iíll have to decide if itís worth it to get labelled as a T-shirt winner, though. I donít want anyone to get the impression that Iím serious about ParkrunsÖ
The Good: Finally completing my Parkrun project, very efficiently. And getting that legendary "Cannibals Cave" in my list.
The Bad: No distance markers.
The Ugly: These youngsters show no respect!
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Hanri bullied me into this race. I just wanted to sleep. I left home at 06:15, arriving at the Botanical Gardens around 06:35. I entered easily, stopping at the Agape club tent before the start. I was able to finally complete my ASA enrolment forms for 2023. Laurens had apparently withdrawn due to a painful foot. I carefully wrapped my rib cage. Old age is not for sissies! Hanri, Louis, Ken, Walter and I started in the right hand corner of the bunch, mostly to avoid the overpowering noise from the PA speakers. There were several speeches, including one that proclaimed the presence of the "legends and stalwarts" of athletics, including himself. The speech also included a surprise: The route would be over 11 km, not 10 as advertised. A pastor led a prayer, and we were off, a few minutes late. I started slowly, being stiff from yesterday's Parkrun, sore from the cracked ribs and out of breath from the early hour. We ran through the Botanical Gardens, leaving the grounds onto Cussonia Avenue. We skirted around the Gardens onto Pretoria Road, then climbed the hills between Silverton and Brummeria. All the while, Walter showered me with questions about a subtle aspect of tailwheel takeoffs. With my low glycogen and shortness of breath, I had a hard time maintaining the discussion. Ken ran ahead, while Hanri and Louis were some way behind us. I hoped that the distance markers were incorrect, as they showed painfully slow progress. We passed the 1 km mark after more than eight minutes!
Having crossed the ridge, we headed back into the Garden. Hanri and Louis caught us, just as we passed the finish line for the final loop. For some reason, my shorts kept slipping down. I constantly had to commit one hand to keeping it up. It didn't do my stride any good—a great excuse for the slow pace! Walter decided that he'd wasted enough time, and shot ahead in pursuit of Ken. We completed the last lap inside the Garden, more or less on the Parkrun route. Many slow walkers were blocking the way—yet another excuse for my slow time. I finished in about 1:12:45, and made my way to joing Corlia and Josias at the Club tent. Walter and Ken had already left. Hanri and Louis arrived about a minute later. Hanri declined my invitation to a buffet breakfast, so Louis and I were the only ones this time.
I am not sure whether I should be happy or upset. The slow time could be partially attributed to the steep slopes, but slow it was. On the other hand, all the others have been training regularly, so I suppose I should be grateful that I am still able to keep up—more or less.
The Good: Surviving my first official race in a long, long time.
The Bad: Slooooooow.
The Ugly: Watching Walter accelerate towards the end. Not very respectful.
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With no Parkruns on Christmas day, we had to make use of this New Year's Day to notch up a Parkrun on a Sunday. The next opportunity won't happen until mid-2025. I found something like six undone Parkruns in Gauteng that would be offered on this day, and picked Springs. Although another one would be closer, Springs had the advantage that Brakpan was close by, making it possible to take action if something went wrong with the arrangements. I was somewhat apprehensive, as I have a cracked rib or two and have done very little running since Comrades, but even a lousy time would be better than no Parkrun at all.
Despite some delays and a Waze-induced detour, we arrived around 07:30. I wrapped my rib cage with a stretch bandage, before Laurens and I warmed up for around 3 km. Alet and Hanri waited at the start. Along the route, we found a blonde with two pony tails. Pippy had a big dog on a leash. She greeted us in a high-pitched heavy Slavic accent. Laurens took pity on a one-eyed stray dog, and left a message on the owner's phone to the effect that Sam was in that park. Several minutes later, we passed Pippy again. She enquired whether we'd seen a white dog. We directed her straight to Sam.
The run director used an intermittent PA system to make a series of announcements. We set off about two minutes late. As usual, a bunch of schoolkids surged ahead. We passed Pippy, loading Sam into a car. I settled into a slightly uncomfortable pace, passing 1 km in 5:23, in 21st place. Laurens was about a minute behind, with Hanri perhaps half a minute behind him. I resolved to slow down slightly, walking occasionally. I passed Pippy along the route. She again had the big dog with her. A woman wearing a bright-orange top cruised past, making her way up the field ahead. On the second lap, I passed Pippy again. This time, there was no dog. There was some jostling for position, and when I passed the next marker at 4 km, I was in 23rd place. I finished reasonably strongly in about 27:40, surprised to be handed number 21. I was pleasantly surprised, as I did not expect to be able to maintain 5:32 pace in my current state of injury and lack of training. It did not escape my notice, though, that the schoolkids had not cracked this time. Obviously the East Rand schoolkids are made of sterner stuff.
Ms Orange lavished the traditional "Well done!" on me. It struck me as slightly patronising, given the consummate ease with which she had beaten me. We struck up a conversation. She had done another Parkrun the previous day, which included some steep downhill trail running, and was rather the worse for wear. Laurens finished about a minute behind me, with Hanri perhaps half a minute behind. Pippy arrived somewhat later, sans dog. Alet sauntered home much later, having struck up a conversation with a local. She had been regaled with an inspiring tale of despondency turned around by exposure to Parkrun and a new circle of friends. We headed home, stopping for a hearty breakfast along the way.
I still need a Parkrun with "C" to spell my name. With the establishment of the Carnival City event, it is now pretty easy, but I still fancy the Cannibals Cave Parkrun on my CV. Perhaps I'll find an excuse to make the drive, real soon.
The Good: A rare opportunity to catch a Sunday Parkrun.
The Bad: Only two distance markers.
The Ugly: A cracked rib does not make a Parkrun a lot of fun.
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Running has taken a back seat since Comrades. In the past two months, Iíve only run 25 km. Clearly, I havenít been able to resume a reasonable routine. This week, something happened that helped: I discovered that the Cannibals Cave Parkrun has resumed after the flood damage. Iím not sure if the flood damage has been repaired, or whether they have just defined a new route. Apart from the mystique of that name, I also only need a "C" and yet another "R" to spell my name. As Cannibals Cave is a long drive and would require an overnight stop, I wanted to get the "R" out of the way. There were two options; Red Star and Ruimsig. I accordingly invited Hanri, Laurens and Alet. Hanri and Laurens quickly declined, so I collected Alet at 06:40 to arrive at 07:30. As my tummy was playing games with me, a quick visit to the public amenities preceded my warmup. I joined the crowd just as the briefing started. In an all-time first, I witnessed a mass aerobics session during the briefing, after which we started exactly on time.
As is often the case, a bunch of schoolkids surged ahead. I assumed Iíd soon catch them. Only about half of those ahead were adults. I settled into twelfth place. Counter to expectation, only one child cracked around the 2 km mark. We climbed up a hill, over a rough trail with loose stones and deep ruts. We soon careened downhill towards a runway. The bunch gradually stretched out with a youngster ahead of me and a bright yellow shirt behind. The youngster started intermittently walking. Each time I caught up to him, he would start running again. He gradually caught up with a young girl, likewise walking intermittently. Around the 4 km mark, I finally managed to overtake the youngster and the girl. I was taking strain, regularly walking and feeling decidedly sorry for myself with a combination of general malaise and acutely sore legs. Near the finish, we found a T junction without directions. We hesitated briefly, then turned right towards the finish. The youngster surged ahead, and I finished before the girl. I was in ninth place, in just under 27 minutes. Not a great time, but probably commensurate with my current state.
Letís hope this Parkrun provides the incentive to resume a regular running schedule. The next project is to visit Cannibals Cave. Not only will it provide me with the "C" I need, but it will be my 49th Parkrun and my 48th venue. The effciency of completing 48 venues without earning that dreaded T-shirt appeals to me, especially as in the process I managed to accumulate Events 1 to 10 and a Parkrun in every month of the year.
The Good: Successfully paving the way for my final project: Cannibals Cave.
The Bad: No distance markers.
The Ugly: The painÖ
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I approached this race with great apprehension. A 90 km race is daunting under any circumstances. Add to it the demands of the Down Run, and it becomes worse. The Up Run is probably more demanding physically, but the Down seems more likely to cause lasting damage. I spent months reinforcing the necessary muscle groups, running regularly and honing my skills. I completed around 1150 km since early March. Based on my most recent half-marathon time, I could probably aim for a 10 hour finish. Based on my qualifying marathon time, I'd be lucky to finish. Total running volume was adequate, but the long-distance stuff was a little light. I was aiming for 11:30, leaving some room for a mishap but not overtaxing myself with too fast a finish. However, in the weeks before I gradually succumbed to peer pressure, finally deciding to join Hanri and Laurens for an attempt on a bronze medal with a sub-11:00 finish.
The taper period had not gone as planned. Although the training volume decreased, my calves were still slightly sore and stiff, just like they had been during the peak training weeks. I was running comfortably, but nowhere near as idyllic as it had been for past attempts. On Friday night, I discovered that I was not eligible for a back-to-back medal. Their wording is decidedly ambiguous. I tried to phone the office on Saturday, but there was no way to communicate with the Association. I decided to leave the discussions for later, if and when it became necessary.
We were repeatedly warned about serious traffic on the road from Durban to the start, so we left at an unearthly 03:30. Laurens, Alet and I arrived in Pietermaritzburg with almost an hour to spare. We stopped over at a garage and used the public toilets. I tried to snatch some sleep, but the restless environment didn't help. I discovered that I'd left my sports drink at home. We finally arrived at the start venue around 05:10. The gates had already opened. We could not find Hanri. The bunch gradually surged forward while we had to endure the horrible synthesizer music and the bottled cock's crow. We crossed the start line after about five minutes and by seven minutes we were able to run. It was still dark, and the streetlights offered little relief in the endless mass of bodies. Soon after the 88 km sign, Laurens started walking. I walked briefly, then resumed my jogging. I didn't see Laurens again. Around 86 km, Hanri called me from behind. I must have passed her, but neither of us had noticed. We briefly ran together, then got separated again. I saw my clubmates Elma and Harry, with very few other familiar faces. A girl with pink plaits ran in front of me. I assumed it was Pippi, but she wasn't wearing long stockings. The 11 hour bus made a nuisance of itself, often disrupting my walk-run rhythm. I saw two guys named Fabio and Dario. I just had to try out my Italian on them. Fabio was doing his first Comrades, in the over-60 age group. He explained how he had only arrived in the country two years ago. I think. I maintained the planned pace at 85 and 80 km, but at 75 I had gained a minute or two. I reined myself in, but the gap kept increasing. We passed the highest point at Umlaas Road. The doldrums at Harrison Flats went by more or less as planned. Coming down towards Drummond and the "half-way" mark, I felt the first inkling of what the descent would do to our legs. I was breathing easy and felt quite relaxed, though. The worst worry was the heel chafing. It felt like serious blisters were forming on the medial side of both heels. I piled generous doses of Vaseline into my shoes on three occasions. By the time I reached Drummond, every step on my left foot resulted in stabbing pain, like stepping into a broken bottle. I resolved to keep going undaunted.
I visited the CSIR tent at Drummond, then cruised on toward Botha's Hill. I was concentrating on a 5+1 survival strategy through Botha's Hill, frantically trying to calculate my pace with the help of my pace chart. I was blissfully unaware of my surroundings. Suddenly, I noticed a tall girl waving at me. Tall girls always get my attention. It was Kayla, with the Cloete family. I was amazed that they had caught my eye in my distracted state.
I visited the CSIR tent at Winston Park. My progress was still reasonably according to plan, but I was taking strain. My left knee, my right glute, my hamstrings and to a lesser extent my calves were complaining loudly. I was counting down the distance to where Alet and the Cloetes would be waiting, as I could take a sip of my favourite black Stoney. I suppose I was hoping that it would miraculously restore my fortunes. I found them as expected, within a minute of the agreed time. I gulped down some Stoney and grabbed my sports drink. As I resumed running, Laurens arrived. We chatted briefly, and I pursued him for some distance. The Stoney didn't miraculously revive my fortunes. I was hurting badly. It was too early to be hurting this badly. Accordingly, I turned around at the 28 km mark and walked back to where I had left my supporters. Hanri passed me with another Phobians runner. She called me to join them. I declined. My supporters were no longer there. I phoned them and got some suspect directions. I followed the directions, then saw them in a completely different place. I tried to catch up, but could not. Being unable to catch two ladies of a certain age taking a leisurely stroll is not an ego trip for someone who is supposed to be a conditioned athlete! I eventually caught them just before the Kloof grandstand, passing the scanners in the process. I ambled home and collapsed into an easy chair. My pulse was 72, confirming that my system was still in good shape. Just these crummy legs.
I took a cold bath, followed by a hot bath with Epsom salts, as instructed by Hanri. Too soon it was time to leave, to see Laurens and Hanri finish. We drove downtown. For about 5 km, we were passing runners running parallel to us. I saw many familiar runners. Near the stadium, we were hopelessly stuck in traffic. We were moving at much less than walking pace. Elma cruised past us, on her way to a strong bronze finish. Eventually, we realised that we would never get there on time. I suggested that my passengers should walk, while I would stop right there and wave as my erstwhile companions passed. I parked high up on an embankment, to keep my car away from the traffic. By the roadside, a traffic official tapped me on the shoulder, wanting to know where I had parked. I pointed to my car. She asked me to move it. I explained the situation, begging her indulgence until my companions were past. She agreed that she would ask her boss. I saw her talking on the radio, but she did not get back to me. I watched hundreds of runners passing, not more than 1,5 km from the finish. Two 70-plus women sailed past, one in time to make the bronze medal cutoff. That really put my performance into perspective. Pippi came sailing past. She looked grim and determined, moving deliberately forward. Despite missing the bronze mark, she was definitely finishing strongly. Harry greeted me. He was almost home and dry. Many of the passers-by had been running with me hours before. Some noticed me and asked what I was doing there. They looked suitably sympathetic, and suitably envious. The 11 hour bus, the one that had been such a nuisance, passed too late to make 11 hours. Hanri passed, just in time to make 11:30. Laurens passed about three minutes later.
I got into my car and rejoined the traffic. Using directions from the traffic official, I ended up on the opposite side of the stadium. I found a little lane with too many parked cars. I headed down it. A would-be parking attendant tried to solicit money. When I declined, he smashed into my left mirror. I took a picture of him, and he ran off. I found parking near the badminton hall. A police warrant officer told me to climb through a hole in the fence and then cross the bridge to the stadium. I was amused at the nature of the official advice. I left my car there and ambled along to the stadium. I waited and waited and waited, while trying to communicate with Laurens and Alet. A young man asked me to phone his telephone, which had been grabbed by a group of hoodlums pretending to be a security detail. The phone was not being answered. I directed him to the police vehicle. Eventually, Alet called me. We had a hard time agreeing where to meet. After several attempts, I figured out where they were. I walked there and gestured to them which way to go. Due to chaotic access arrangements to the stadium, we were on different levels. We eventually met, climbed through the hole in the fence and made our way to the car. We made good progress away from the stadium, eventually abandoning the GPS directions. It was a mistake. Fields Hill was snarled up, and we crawled along it for close to half an hour. It took longer to climb the hill than the runners had taken to come down it earlier in the day. It was raining now, and altogether miserable. We ordered take-away food and made our way home. After dinner, I answered a few more SMS enquiries and tucked into bed early.
After breakfast, we loaded the car and departed at 10:00 sharp. We collected Hanri and made our way home. We made two stops, one to have lunch. At both stops, there were dozens of people walking like penguins. Many sported identical light purple shirts. The atmosphere was pretty festive. After dropping off Hanri and Laurens, we arrived at Alet's home after 18:00. I was ready to head home and get some sleep, but I just had to finish this story first.
I'm definitely pleased that I was there to see Hanri complete her first Comrades. It's been a long process. Laurens completed his ninth medal, placing him well to collect his green number next year. And I have proven conclusively that I am not Comrades material.
We'll see what happens next. I would very much like to do some better times over shorter distances. Half marathons appeal to me. Maybe I'll even be talked into a marathon or two. I might even be lured into some serious triathlons, maybe even Ironman. But this ultra-marathon madness is definitely not for me.
The Good: I completed 62 km of the race—66 if you include the walk home—with no after-effects but couple of blisters. Watching Hanri finish her first Comrades after many moons of joint preparation.
The Bad: Not completing the Down Run as I was hoping to.
The Ugly: Finally confirming that I'm not distance running material.
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We're in KZN for Comrades. Several local Parkruns offered Laurens and Alet counters, specifically some initial letters to spell their names. However, the Thousand Hills Parkrun, supposedly the hardest in the world, was close by. I've done it before, so I'm not even tempted to tackle this route. Laurens decided to stay in bed. We arrived around 07:35, much too early as Alet wasn't planning to warm up. I stood around, talking to the locals. Several of them felt that my office attire was inappropriate, specifically my shoes. I played the game, telling them that I was preserving my running shoes for the next day. They were visibly shocked. There was a first-timer briefing, followed by a normal race briefing. We started exactly on time. I ran in fifth place or so, with my briefcase comfortably under my arm. After a few hundred metres, I slipped in behind a parked car and waited for all the runners to pass before ambling back to the start. I settled down near the finish. The first finisher did not arrive until 25 minutes had passed. The hilly terrain clearly limited what was possible. My previous time of almost 35 minutes would have earned me 11th place of 83 finishers.
Alet finished in just over an hour in 63rd place. Her companions during the Parkrun were also there for Comrades, albeit as supporters. We chatted for a few minutes before setting off toward the Comrades Wall of Honour. I wanted to see my brick, which I'd commissioned after my Comrades finish. I started scanning from newest to older, while Alet did the same thing behind me. I saw a few familiar names, but never found my own brick. Alet did—I had actually missed it despite my best efforts. We took a few suitably cheesy pictures before returning to Kloof for some shopping and some final race preparations.
The Good: Not having to do the hardest Parkrun in the world. Watching Alet add a new letter to her collection. Finally seeing my brick in the Wall of Honour.
The Bad: Sitting out while everyone else went Parkrunning.
The Ugly: Tomorrow looms...
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My Comrades preparation is winding down, with only three weeks to the big day. The Arrow Rest Parkrun's event number 10 was on the cards, allowing Alet and I to complete a full house from 1 to 10. Laurens withdrew due to work pressure. Vicky pulled out at the last moment. I had other commitments, collecting some workers for a project at the airport on my way to the Parkrun. Alet rounded up Thea at short notice. I arrived around 07:40 and took a short warmup run. Alet arrived as I completed my warmup. There was a definite nip in the air.
The announcements were made without the benefit of a microphone. I had seen the route on the Web. It was a nested loop with many kinks. We started on time, and I found myself in the unusual situation of being right in front. The A team must have taken the day off. A youngster ran shoulder to shoulder with me on a two-track path. I asked if he knew the route. He said that he'd never run it before, but that it was simple. I decided to let him lead, following close behind.
1 km came at 04:30, slightly too fast. We turned at the lowest end of the property, climbing back towards the start. 2 km came just before 09:30, about right. We meandered through a forest on sandy pathways. Around the 3 km mark, the youngster gradually started leaving me behind. There were one or two turns without clear indications. I was happy to have marshals within shouting distance. The last km or so was uphill. I had promised my workers that I'd finish around 25 minutes. The winner finished around 24:44, and I around 25:10. The next runner was about half a minute behind me. I was amazed. My relatively slow time has never earned me such a good placing before!
After ingesting a complimentary pancake, I was on the road by 08:30. The first chore for the day was done and dusted!
The Good: Relatively flat course with great distance markers. Completing a full set of event numbers from 1 to 10.
The Bad: Rather difficult surface, with lots of sand.
The Ugly: Discovering in the results that the winner has yet to see his 18th birthday!
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Another exceptionally hectic week threatened to undermine my weekly running quota. We are now winding down before Comrades, with less than seven weeks to go. On Friday night, it became evident that my Saturday morning commitment was not going to keep me tied up, so I allowed Laurens to talk me into a half marathon. I was somewhat unhappy to discover that the entry fee was R 200, an all-time record for a half marathon. Laurens collected me from work at 05:43, and we arrived at the Mzansi Resorts (sic) at 06:30. Not many runners were around. It was bitterly cold, and I saw only one other runner sporting a vest without layered clothing, like I was. I looked for a public toilet, and had to walk several hundred metres to the main building of what was once the Morula Sun casino. It is basically derelict. I queued for several minutes before getting my turn in a very, very grimy toilet. Halfway through proceedings, I suddenly noticed that there was no toilet paper. This was going to be an interesting day. Once back in the main bathroom, I discovered that there was no soap either. Arghhh. Fortunately, there were a few drops of soap in the handicapped bathroom.
The next surprise was that the start was almost 1 km away. No-one knew exactly where or exactly how far, so we started walking. We soon heard the announcer's voice up ahead, and found the start well down the road. The timekeeper was nowhere to be found. Fortunately, the announcer had a sense of urgency, and made some phone calls. Soon enough, the timekeeper arrived. The announcer coaxed the officials into action, and we started only five minutes late. We would run two clockwise laps on urban roads, with lots of traffic. Mostly, the road shoulder was wide enough and the potholes were easily avoided. There were no distance markers, but the distances were clearly painted on the road surface. Due to the small field, perhaps 200 runners, we were soon running in single file, with the spacing gradually increasing until I could see well ahead. I maintained a constant pace of 5:20/km. I wondered if I could keep it up to the end, but I was comfortable and easily aerobic. The route was flattish, with only one nagging climb from a bridge crossing on the far side. A couple from Midrand passed me and greeted enthusiastically. I overtook a runner from A4A, who asked me if I was doing two laps. Bystanders waved and shouted, and passing taxis seemed not to realise that a hooter is a safety device. I had my first gel at 7 km. I cruised past 10 km at just under 54 minutes. By now, I was running completely alone. The Midrand couple ran perhaps 300 m ahead, with the A4S runner perhaps the same distance behind. With only a stopwatch and the painted distances, I was able to maintain my pace within a few seconds, all the way to the 18 km mark. I was pleasantly surprised. Despite my lack of long-distance training, at least I'm not completely lame. Beyond this point, I did some regular walking, using a 5+1 survival strategy with lampposts. I resolved to break 1:54. The last 3 km went by in 16 minutes, and I finished in 1:53:44. Unfortunately, the stopwatch next to the finish line showed more than a minute more. An official asked my name. I was apparently the second Master. Maybe some prize money would make up for the exorbitant entry fee!
I was tired, and looked for a place to sit in the shade and watch the finishers. Laurens cruised home in just under 2:00 (2:01 on the display). They didn't take his name. We waited for the prizegiving. It took almost forever. I did some prompting to expedite matters. The Midrand couple won the Masters divisions, both male and female. At least I found some consolation in the fact that they are the better part of a decade younger than I am. We managed to leave around 09:30. I was very happy. It was my best half marathon time since The Flu, and I managed to do it without causing myself undue damage. My left knee was a little fragile at times, but I remained aerobic into the last km with no undue muscle strain.
The Good: A very comfortable sub-two half marathon. Winning some prize money for only the second time ever.
The Bad: R 200 entry fee. The derelict venue, with no toilet paper and no soap.
The Ugly: Having to write my bank account number on a dog-eared sheet of paper for my prize money. Let's hope that it's less risky than it seems!
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This weekís speedwork went unexpectedly well. I had to be in KZN over the weekend due to family commitments, missing the Magnolia long run, so I decided to use the opportunity to try a fast Parkrun. Iíve broken 25 minutes seven times, but 24 minutes has remained an elusive target. Perhaps I could use the opportunity to fix that omission, while also accumulating credit for a Parkrun starting with "U".
Alet and I left my sisterís place on schedule at 05:43, collecting Yolande on the way to arrive at Umhlanga around 07:35. We had fun listening to the GPS butcher the local names. "E-M-D-Loti" was my personal favourite. I took a 2 km jog to warm up. Unfortunately, the temperature was already in the mid-teens, definitely higher than ideal. The announcements were a bit tedious. The race director screamed into the microphone, but even though the public address speakers displayed flashing lights, they were of little help to overcome the constant buzz of conversation in the crowd. We set off about one minute late, northbound on the promenade. Many other walkers and joggers were on the path, most keeping left and allowing the Parkrunners past. I found myself surrounded by red T-shirts, apparently belonging to youngsters from a soccer club. As usual, there were numerous young kids that started too fast and soon slipped behind.
We looped onto short grass at the northern end of the course before doubling back to the start. I passed Alet and Yolande about halfway. They cheered as I passed. I wondered whether the tone of sarcasm was only my imagination. There were no distance markers, and I had trouble judging my pace. As is always the case during intense training weeks, my calves and my left knee were slightly sore, but my breathing was easy. I suppose there is something to be said for the oxygen-rich sea air. I turned around at the south end and tried to keep up the pace. I had to walk occasionally as a respite, but managed to finish after a short, steep uphill in about 23:44. It took me a few minutes to regain my wits. By the time I enquired, they had handed out number 35. I was fairly certain that Iíd finished in the first 30—satisfactory in the light of the typical field of over 350 finishers. I chatted to a woman who had finished well before me. She was very relaxed. Clearly, genes were at play, not dogged determination!
Not much came of my post-Parkrun running plans. I was thoroughly spent. I walked back along the trail, reading the plaques near all the tourist traps and finding Alet and Yolande around the 3,5 km mark. I coaxed Alet into a jog, and paced her to the finish. She managed to break 50 minutes by just a few seconds. Yolande had been selling Parkrun tourism to her companions, so I spent a few minutes briefing them about potential destinations near their house in Gauteng.
Alet and I walked on the beach for a while, then joined Yolande in a local hangout before heading off for some shopping and then heading home. It was a substantial drive for just 5 km of running, but I was happy. A new Personal Best and a "U"—not a complete waste of time! I was a little sad that I managed to accumulate so little distance. I was going to have to make up for the shortfall the next day (Sunday) in hilly terrain, alone. Serves me right!
The Good: Flat course with a good surface. Lots of oxygen to breathe. Breaking 24 minutes and exceeding a 65% age grading!
The Bad: No distance markers. Too many participants for my liking. Not enough distance—tomorrow should have been a rest day!
The Ugly: Lots of pedestrians having trouble with this "keep left" thing.
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Laurens and Hanri are planning a marathon tomorrow, so Alet and I set off alone at 05:30. After a series of icy road warnings from my car and a GPS-induced detour or two, we arrived at the venue around 07:30. The temperature indicated -1°C. Someone waved at me from a parked car. I could not identify the occupants, but I returned the wave. I set off for a 3 km warmup run. Several volunteers made snide remarks about my T-shirt and shorts. By the time I arrived back at the start, the announcements were in full swing. Obviously, Potchefstroom felt no need for English announcements. I noticed Pieter in the start lineup. He confirmed that he had waved from the car. We started exactly on time. I settled into fifth place, moving up to fourth around the 1 km mark. The pace was a steady 4:45/km at this point. I reminded myself not to overdo things. The runner behind me lagged further and further behind. I focused on the runner ahead, gradually catching up. We meandered through a field, following clear directions. The surface was a little unsteady, with turf accumulating on my soles. I got taller and taller as I ran. Segments of the course were waterlogged around the edges. It was clear to me why several events had been cancelled due to rain. To my amazement, I saw Pieter well behind me.
I entered the second lap at about 12:10. I could definitely feel the fatigue, and my breathing was shortening. A pebble started niggling below my right foot bridge. I walked occasionally, trying desperately to keep up the pace. I was overtaking many walkers. Some followed the race director's directions to keep left, while others were much harder to pass. I caught number 3. We ran together for a while. I couldn't keep it up, and with around 1 km to go he slowly opened up a gap ahead of me. The pebble had grown to a full-fledged stone. I considered stopping to remove it from my shoe, but decided to continue. The runner behind was not catching up. I lapped an elderly runner festooned with numerous embroidered names of Parkrun venues—obviously not a practical hobby for a serious Parkrun tourist. The stone now felt suitable for a cornerstone. I reminded myself to keep it, just in case I wanted to erect a big building one day. I finished around 24:40, in fourth place.
I caught my breath for a few minutes, then started on another lap. I caught Alet in the first km, admonishing her to speed up. She explained that she was following a walk-run strategy. I had to take the "run" part on faith. I passed a man with an artificial leg. He was walking briskly. When I finished, Pieter had disappeared. I phoned him. He had already returned to the town with his family. He mentioned that I was now the record holder for my age group, having beaten the previous record by about half a minute. Pieter had completed a 120 km cycle ride the previous day, and his legs hadn't fully recovered. Alet finished around 48 minutes. We tackled the road home via Parys and Hartbeespoort for some aviation-related chores.
With event number 7 in the bag, only number 10 eludes me. We're hoping to rectify that omission in a fortnight's time. I also reached the midpoint of the international Parkrun tourist list, with 43 venues. The Parkrun project is finally nearing completion!
The Good: New Parkrun event in the bag. Reaching the middle of the international Parkrun tourist list. Breaking 25 minutes again.
The Bad: Only one distance marker (at 1 and 3,5 km). Waterlogged sections on the track, casting doubt on the venue's sustainability in the rainy season.
The Ugly: Only 11 km on the clock. I'll have to do 21 km tomorrow to complete my weekly quota!
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We've been watching all the newly-established Parkruns to identify event numbers 7, 9 and 10. Recently, several Parkruns have been disrupted, making the sequence harder to follow. This Saturday, it looked like we could complete Number 9 in Sasolburg. Laurens chickened out during the week. Ken is out of town. Vicky was unreachable. Accordingly, Alet and I left Pretoria at 06:00. After a drive that included dense fog near the Vaal river and several icing warnings from my car, we arrived at the stadium at 07:25. I took a 3 km run to warm up. The announcements took quite a while, being tweetalig and all, and we started about a minute late. I soon settled into eighth place, with a tall young blonde in front of me and a grey li'l ol' lady behind. I passed a marker showing "1" at 4:15. I didn't think it was really at 1 km, but if it was, I'd probably set myself up for spectacular failure.
The route is pretty flat and fresly graded in places. The surface was uneven in places, mostly due to tyre ruts. I walked occasionally to catch my breath. We completed a figure of eight course and then entered a second lap. During one of my walks, the li'l old lady caught up with me. We chatted for a while, but halfway through the second lap she left me behind. As we entered the second loop of the figure of eight, with me hot on her heels, she turned left to the finish. I thought we still had to complete the other loop. I asked an official. On his directions, I turned back and finished. I wasted half a minute due to the detour, but fortunately the young man behind me had not overtaken me. I finished in ninth place in something like 24:30. The tall blonde was just ahead of the li'l ol' lady, but she did not have a bar code. At least she won't show up in the official results...
After catching my breath, I retraced the route with two other runners. I saw Alet ahead, just entering the second lap. She was aiming to finish in under 45 minutes. I didn't think she was going to make it. I finished the loop, stretching on a staircase. To my amazement, I saw Alet finishing in just under 45 minutes. On the way to the car, I passed the li'l ol' lady. I bemoaned my fate, being beaten by a li'l ol' lady. She indignantly retorted that she'd initially been unable to overtake me when I was walking. We'd clearly caused a lot of mutual grief! The fog had lifted, so the trip home was uneventful and we made it home as planned to tackle the day's duties.
The Good: Alet's personal best. My best time for the year. Just two first-ten Parkruns to go.
The Bad: No distance markers. Only 10 km on the clock. The detour that cost me my all-time best Parkrun.
The Ugly: Being soundly beaten by a grey li'l ol' lady.
PS: I felt a little better when I learned that the li'l ol' lady is a former world champion masters' athlete...
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Anyone with a hope of a Comrades finish would want to be doing at least 60 km per week at this stage. With daylight shrinking relentlessly, it has been difficult to fit in respectable distance during the week. Accordingly, I was happy when Laurens told me about a half marathon this weekend. I decided to park at Alet's house, run 5 km to the venue, run the half marathon and then run back to my car. I left home at 05:50, ran from Alet's at 06:00 and arrived in darkness with plenty of time to enter and amble down to the start. The weather was perfect, with a low cloudbase but no rain. When I left Alet's house, the temperature had been 9°C. The start bunch was dense, with probably less than 10% wearing masks.
We started on time. Laurens and I were about one-fifth from the front. As is always the case with mixed starts, most of the slooooooooooow runners absolutely had to start in the front row. The bunch didn't thin out for at least 10 minutes. I passed the 3 km marker at 18 minutes, so everything was on track. Mandy came past, wearing Phobians kit. I asked her if she was collecting colours from every club in Pretoria. I tried to maintain a 6:00/km pace, but gradually gained time. A car emerged from a driveway. A particularly tall runner ran in front of the car, causing the driver to brake hard and blocking several of us in the process. The tall runner, who was wearing his race number on his back, spouted forth about how stupid the driver was. I couldn't help but think of Dunning and Kruger. We were now passing numerous 5 km participants, who were mostly walking. About half the field peeled off to the finish, while the rest of us continued for the second lap. The tall rocket scientist also continued on the second lap, even though his number clearly indicated that he had entered for 10 km.
10 km came at 57 minutes. The loop came before 11 km. I saw Melani, Willie and Mandy ahead of me and Laurens behind. He made a snide remark about me heading for two hours. The thought had crossed my mind. At that rate, it would be a close thing. My left knee was hurting slightly, but I kept pushing. I passed Mandy and her friend near the 17 km mark, exchanging pleasantries about how humiliating it was to be passed by such an old guy. The last 3 km stretch was uphill. I had to maintain a 5:20/km pace to break two hours. It was not to be. I had to walk a few times. As I ran up the ramp, I spotted Karen watching from the sidelines. I finished under 2:01. Our Club tent was nowhere to be seen, so I headed home. I took a detour via the race route to do some cleaning up. Pretty soon, I passed the point where it was constructive. Trying to break two hours didn't leave enough reserve to run all the way back to my car. I stopped at Marina's house, trying to solicit help with a phone call. After giving up, I encountered a friendly walker with a phone. She called Alet, and I proceeded up the hill feeling very sorry for myself. Right on the hilltop, much too late for my liking, Alet arrived and relieved me from my misery.
Despite my best efforts, I'm still about 5 km short on my weekly quota. Preparing for Comrades in winter is not going to be easy!
Laurens told me afterwards that the loop had been too long, adding 200 m to the distance. I had noticed that there was no turn marking on the road, just a marshal with a flag. I felt a little better. Obviously, it wasn't my fault that I didn't make the two hour mark!
The Good: A reasonable start time. Great distance markers. Relatively light traffic.
The Bad: The mixed start bunch. The mis-positioned marshal in the loop. The opinionated rocket scientist.
The Ugly: Ambling up that hill after 30 km was not a lot of fun.
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Another crazy week. Friday evening, I started wondering about how I was going to do 30 km on the weekend. It is winter, with limited daylight and unlimited lethargy. Neither Walter nor Ken responded to my text message, but Laurens did. I grudginly agreed to pick him up at 07:30.
After a wrong turn, we arrived at the venue at 07:55. Admin took a long time, including a lot of invasive questions. We finally started around 08:05. We were told that they would leave at 10:00, so the half marathon that we had paid for was out of the question. We decided on 15 km instead. We meandered through the ARC experimental farm—great surroundings and a welcome change from urban roads. Perhaps three dozen other runners were also on the route. Laurens was even lazier than I was, so I occasionally ran ahead and turned back to fetch him. After completing what we thought was the 15 km route, both my watch and Laurens's fancy GPS suggested that we hadn't quite done 15 km. Accordingly, we meandered some more until the 15 km was up and stumbled through the finish. It wasn't exactly world record pace, so doing some more distance sounded like a good idea. Laurens was not cooperative and I wasn't in a coercive mood. Accordingly, I dropped Laurens off at his home and made myself comfortable at our usual breakfast buffet place to catch up on some reading. I resigned myself to the fact that there was going to be a 10 km run on Sunday...
The Good: Rustic surroundings. Few runners. Even fewer cars. A reasonable start time.
The Bad: Finding out at the last moment that a half marathon was not an option. Invasive questions that they have no business asking.
The Ugly: R 160 for 15 km!
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I took off the entire week to recover from the marathon. By yesterday, I was fine. We were contemplating a trip to Mbombela to do the Klipspringer Valley Lodge Parkrun and to surprise Hanri at the finish of the Elands Marathon, but Hanri withdrew due to illness. We were still planning to make the trip and cheer Deon past the half marathon finish, but when the lodge's phone went unanswered yesterday, I regarded it as a sign to re-plan. Accordingly, I lined up arrangements with Laurens, Alet and Vicky for Iron Throne. I arrived a few minutes late for our 06:30 appointment at Alet's house, and Laurens whisked us off to the venue. After a short detour, we arrived on schedule at 07:30.
Iron Throne is a trail run, predator park and biker's paradise. Bikers were there in droves. I haven't seen so many smokers in one place in years. We wandered up the hill (the cableway right next door should tell you something), admiring various predators as we went. Cheetah, leopards, a puma and wolves spring to mind. There were also various domestic animals in cages. It wasn't clear whether they were part of the exhibit or part of the menu. Laurens and I broke into a ten-minute warmup run. The terrain was steep and treacherous. My legs were definitely not comfortable, with Monday's proceedings clearly still fresh in their memory. However, after a few minutes they loosened up. Laurens was also relieved. After an operation in the last week, he was relieved that he was also running comfortably.
The announcements were a little vague, but I was counting on some locals to lead the way. We started on time, headed uphill. I was initially fourteenth, gradually sliding up the pack. Overtaking was hard work, as a narrow trail wound through the forest on the steep slope. 1 km came at 6:20, not bad for the terrain and the altitude gain. I followed two youngsters. Even though I had some reserve, I was reluctant to overtake. I had a nagging feeling that I might well hold them up later. 2 km came at 12:25. The terrain required focus. At one point, we passed close to our previous route, and I heard Vicky calling my name. I dared not look around and risk a tumble. 3 km came at 18:45. Given the downhill to the finish, I hoped that I might avoid the embarrassment of a thirty-something finish. The two youngsters had now cracked and started walking. I thought I was in seventh place. However, as we looped back toward the finish, I saw only two leaders coming the other way. I suppose I was in third to seventh place!? Laurens was behind me in the loop, perhaps two minutes down. The first woman was just ahead of him. I maintained the pressure. Although no-one was in sight ahead of me, someone was in hot pursuit. 4 km came at 25:20. The half-hour mark was now out of reach. The signs were a little confusing, as they were reasonably transparent and with the sun behind them, it was hard to tell whether the sign was intended for us or for the head-on tailenders we were trying to avoid. I did avoid them, finishing just over 31 minutes in fourth place. The pursuer crossed the line just behind me.
Laurens sailed home about three minutes behind me in fourteenth place. My offer to volunteer was declined, so we ambled on down to the car. Laurens went looking for a caffeine fix while I earned my minutes of fame with a video interview. I also spent some time chatting to John Kollen about new Parkrun options, learning about one in Bloemfontein in the process. Alet and Vicky ambled in after just over an hour. Alet reported suffering some after-effects of sniffles earlier in the week. We jumped into the car and made our way to Jasmyn for some breakfast and shopping. The breakfast was unsuccessful, with nothing on the menu but cement powder and white bread, but the shopping resulted in some mobile eats. Results were in just after mid-day. Strangely, my official time is 30:45, somewhat faster than I figured. I suppose I should be grateful.
The Good: Several Parkrun milestones (new venue, event #6, first starting with "I", first in May (the last month I needed). Challenging Parkrun in natural surroundings. Good distance markers. Great fresh produce up for grabs.
The Bad: The slope and the rough terrain conspired to produce a thirty-something time.
The Ugly: The noisy smokers frequenting the bikers' joint.
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Traditionally, the Wally Hayward is the last qualifier for Comrades. It falls on or near Workers' Day. This year, with Comrades being moved into late August, there is more time. I didn't feel ready, but Laurens talked me into entering. Treacherously, he advised me this week that he was withdrawing due to health reasons. Of course, he didn't have the spectacular failure that I had at Irene Ultra, so he has already qualified for Comrades. Hanri wasn't going to join us due to other commitments. Instead, she is planning to qualify next weekend.
It's been yet another rough week. I managed to get a good night's sleep on Saturday night, but Sunday night didn't work that well. I got to bed after 22:00, setting my alarm clock for 04:00 to collect my number and be at the start at 05:30. As often happens when I set my alarm clock that early, I woke up several times. The power was off all evening. Fortunately, in the morning it was back on. Everything worked according to plan, except that I had to walk over 2 km to collect my number. Despite repeated admonishments that we had to bring vaccination certificates or fresh Covid-19 tests, no-one was interested in my paperwork. I arrived at the start at 05:30 with my race number neatly pinned to my vest. I was almost alone. An official explained that we would only start at 06:30. I could have slept almost an hour more! I must have confused the start time with the Irene Ultra. The trauma clearly didn't leave me untouched. However, I now faced a more serious problem: I had an hour to kill at 8°C in a running vest. I did not relish the idea of walking to my car and back. I had to preserve myself for the race. Fortunately, there was a solution at my club tent. The trailer was not there, having suffered a breakdown, but Dirk from the Magnolia tent next door parked his car for us to secure our belongings. Dirk lent me a thick jacket. I settled down in the driver's seat and relaxed. I didn't quite doze off, but I felt refreshed when I got up to join the start bunch. Marius told me about a photograph he had recently found in his collection, in which he recognised me. I remember the scene, but it happened years before we became acquainted in the club. Another member regaled us with stories of Parkrun tourism. I chuckled. He was blissfully unaware of badges and silly targets like chasing successive event numbers. He did know about spelling your name, because he had a real mouthful of a name.
The bunch was huge, just like in the olden days. The Website claimed 6000 entries. I saw very few familiar faces. I didn't hear the start signal, but the bunch started moving around 06:30. I crossed the start line at 06:34. The race was advertised as a mat-to-mat qualifier, so I hit my stopwatch on the line. I broke into a gentle jog, aiming for 7:00/km. After a while, I passed Hennie and Marix. I hadn't seen them since The Flu. After about 20 minutes, I was worried. I hadn't seen a single distance marker. I asked around, and fellow runners with toy watches gave me a distance check. I was too slow. We were gradually climbing from the rugby club to the Air Force Base, but I sped up slightly. I had my first meal after an hour. My next distance check came around 14 km. This time I was slightly too fast after the long downhill. I reeled in my pace somewhat. Near the golf course, I looked for a toilet to dump some excess fluid. The toilets were occupied, so I used a fence instead. From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash (sic) of white. I looked around. I woman was doing the same thing I was, but in a considerably greater state of undress. I supposed it was an accidental mutual flash. Passing Leribisi Lodge, I saw some cheer leaders by the roadside. One held a poster saying "You still have more energy than Eskom". My retort was too slow to deliver in passing. I resolved to deliver it on the second lap. The route was reasonably flat past Centurion Lake. The whiff from the dam was not pleasant.
I passed the stadium at 2:12, about 16 minutes too early. I hoped I wasn't going to pay a terrible price. I was still feeling relatively strong, but there was definitely some lead forming in those legs. The climb was definitely more laborious this time. I turned at the Air Force Base feeling grateful that there were not going to be any more substantial climbs. We slid downhill to the golf course. I kept calculating the required pace. It never came down to the point where I could walk if required. I intermittently walked. Around 28 km, I saw the first distances stencilled onto the road surface. The letters were less than 100 mm tall. I saw another three, because I now knew what to look for. That was it. My left knee was niggling slightly. Soon, a twinge in my left calf muscle caught my attention. Cramps. I was not impressed. I was hoping it wouldn't end this way. There was nothing salty at the clubhouse water point. A spectator by the roadside offered me some raw salt. I spent the next 5 km or so looking for water, including a detour into a filling station. No luck. I finally found some water and restored my mouth to some semblance of normality. Passing the Eskom poster, I quipped that we were engaged in "road shedding". I asked some marshals for distance checks. Their answers were spurious; some too optimistic, some grossly pessimistic. I wondered if they understood what devastating effects they were having. I plodded towards the stadium. Passing the Gautrain station, I maintained a 3+1 survival strategy. Approaching the station, we could hear the announcer peaking to a frenzy as the 4:50 cutoff time for Comrades qualification approached. The cutoff happened as I ran down the fence toward the gate. I hoped that they would honour their mat-to-mat promise. I finished at just over 4:48 on my stopwatch.
I received a welcome refrigerated cloth at the finish and limped to the club tent. I saw De Wet passing me with a pile of chairs. Sure enough, all the chairs had disappeared. William welcomed me, but everything had been packed into a crate. I settled onto the grass and enjoyed the shade offered by the gazebo. Once I had recovered my wits, I limped to De Wet's bus. They dropped me off at my car. I was exceedingly grateful. Walking more than 2 km in that state would not have been a lot of fun.
There were several missed calls on my phone. One was from Olga. She had seen me in the start bunch, but I hadn't seen her. I was half grateful. Distraction was the last thing I needed. It turns out that the Eskom heckler had actually come to support Olga. She thought that I would get along very well with Andy. I told her to tell Andy that the guy who was busy with road shedding would get along with her. I mentioned my flamboyant hat. Olga responded that that had been the first thing she noticed. She'd found it strange that a homeless man would appear in the start bunch. It didn't sound like a compliment.
If the organisers honour their mat-to-mat undertaking, Comrades qualification is in the bag. Maybe I can improve it later, but at least the pressure is off.
The Good: I survived a marathon for the first time since The Flu.
The Bad: No distance markers. Misleading marshals.
The Ugly: The organisers using the same subject line for more than a dozen emails and emailing all entries' ID numbers illegally.
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The Wally Hayward marathon happens on Monday. I'm filled with trepidation after the Irene failure, so I'm trying to taper adequately to be well rested. The opportunity to do a midweek Parkrun fits perfectly into this picture. About a dozen Gauteng Parkruns are open today. I chose the Roodepoort event, both for its relative proximity and for the fact that I need another two Parkruns starting with "R" to spell my name.
Ken didn't respond to the invitation. Laurens and Vicky chickened out during the night. Alet and I left around 06:50. Finding the venue was a little difficult, as Roodepoort's road names are hardly marked at all. Nevertheless, we arrived around 07:35. With the temperature around 7°C, I kept my jacket on for the warmup. The announcements were short and we started about a minute early. I settled into tenth place. A woman ahead was being dragged along by a dog. I envied her. My legs were very stiff. Clearly, I had not warmed up enough. There were no distance markers. The route was slightly muddy. A clear brown path was visible on the lush green surface. At the furthest turn, there were some cones just outside the path. A marshal stood beyond the cones, berating us for "just cheating ourselves". Apparently, we were supposed to have passed outside the cones...
Around 12 minutes, two youngsters sailed past. I completed the first lap around 13:35. On the second lap, I made good use of some tar roads adjacent to the route. I passed outside the cones this time, suggesting to the marshal that she might tell us where to run rather than just berating all the participants. I lapped the tail walker and started encountering many walkers. Fortunately, there was lots of space. I came close to catching the runner ahead, but over the last section he disappeared into the bunch ahead. I finished around 27:30 and received tag 14. I was surprised, as there had only been 11 runners in front of me. I collected jackets from the car and ambled back along the route. The temperature was now 11°C. Alet jostled with another woman, running and walking. She finished around 52 minutes. We soon found our way home before she headed off for a short vacation with friends. I'm hoping that I haven't exhausted myself excessively for Monday's action!
The Good: Nice Parkrun in scenic surroundings.
The Bad: No distance markers. Few route markers. Somewhat rutted route, surrounded by draggy grass.
The Ugly: The vocal but unhelpful marshal.
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The Noordwyk Parkrun's fifth event happened today. After collecting Laurens at his house, we arrived in Noordwyk at 07:30. We went to view the Russian Orthodox church close up. To my amazement, there were no demonstrators outside. Laurens and I took a brisk walk in the park, while Alet and Lia hovered near the start. The announcements were short and sweet, and we started exactly on time. As usual, a small bunch started frantically. I settled into ninth place. A young girl with long blonde hair was in the bunch. I was pretty certain she would drop out pretty soon.
The course is strange. From the start, one ventures out in a northerly direction. Following a U-turn, one ventures back toward the start. Passing through some derelict tennis courts, one ventures southeast in a similar out-and-back direction, followed by a third leg to the southwest. The second lap consists of the same exercise again. Too late, I noticed orange paint marks against some trees and lampposts. It seemed like we were taking some short cuts in two of the legs. I compensated on the second lap, doing a bit more than necessary. To my amazement, Blondie stayed ahead all the way to the finish. I gradually slid up the rankings into eighth place, crossing the line in 27:32. I was surprised to receive Tag 7.
It seemed like they were short of volunteers, so I approached the run director to help. She suggested that I man the split where finishers diverge from the first-lappers. I took up my post, directing second-lappers to the finish. Laurens came past around the half-hour mark. After finishing, he came to keep me company. Eventually, the bunch thinned out. Alet and Lia arrived around 54 minutes. After the stragglers thinned out, we ambled back to the car and tackled the drive home.
Laurens and I were dropped off in Centurion, 16 km from Alet's house where I could collect my car. I struggled to get started, stiff from the vigorous Parkrun and an hour to cool down. We plodded on together for the first 6 km or so, after which Laurens ventured into his neighbourhood and I turned right. A long uphill followed by an even longer downhill, with generous doses of walking and intermittently cleaning up the streets, and I arrived at Alet's place. They were not yet home, so I settled down on the green grass next to the pool and caught up on some sleep.
The Good: Parkrun events 1 to 5 are in the bag. Lia appearing on the South African Parkrun Most Events list. I actually survived 21 km of running.
The Bad: No distance markers. Poorly marked turnarounds. Badly calibrated distance (actually 5,2 km).
The Ugly: The long way home was slooooooooow.
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This week has been rough. The financial year-end was followed by having to examine a Masters dissertation and another article. Friday, I had to collect the race numbers in Centurion. Saturday was spent in a meeting and working on aircraft, with no opportunity to take a break. To make matters worse, I'd left my car's window open and the pre-race checklist I had printed got soaked in rain. I got home around 21:00 and spent a few minutes preparing my logistics. Some of my race drinks had decayed after several years on the shelf. I got to bed before 22:00, but the whole night was marred by regular waking spells. The alarm clock at 04:10 came as a nasty surprise.
I ran my checklist and headed for the door. I collected Laurens around 04:55. Traffic was relatively light, and we found parking by 05:20. Unfortunately, we had well over a km to go, and we had to break into a jog on the way. Although my checklist had saved me from forgetting my sunscreen and some lubrication, it didn't save me from forgetting my hat and my breakfast. I also left some of my race snacks at home, specifically the cheese and the dates. I had one of my race snacks before the start in lieu of breakfast.
The horn went as we approached the start line. The bunch was relatively big, with perhaps 2000 runners. We moved very slowly in darkness, crossing the start line after perhaps three minutes. The sole illumination consisted of city lights reflecting off the low cloud ceiling. It worked, as passing under a lane of trees resulted in almost complete darkness. Perhaps 10 minutes in, Laurens commented that we were on pace. The bunch soon thinned out, and we were running comfortably. There was very light drizzle, but not enough to get us wet. I lost touch with Laurens. Around the 4 km mark, it was getting light, and I could finally read my stopwatch. I was about four minutes early. Despite my attempt to take it easy, I was moving too fast. I deliberately slowed down. I was slightly stiff, but my motion gradually became more fluid. We were now meandering through Midstream. The bunch had considerably thinned out, and light banter could be heard all round. I was surprised to notice that we were on a completely new route, mostly south of the start, and that the distance markers suggested that we would do three laps of 16 km each. I thought back to the Huff and Puff, and realised that I would again be faced with the temptation of passing my car on two occasions. I wondered if I would be able to resist the temptation.
I passed the 10 km mark in about 1:05, five minutes early. I managed to maintain a comfortable jog. I finally passed the start at 1:36, around six minutes early. I started taking regular walk breaks, hoping to bring the pace back to the planned pace and preserve my strength. I felt increasingly uncomfortable, with both my hips and my left knee complaining ever so slightly. I was definitely gradually deteriorating. The second lap produced more of the same. The leaders lapped us early in the second lap. I envied them being on their last lap. I deliberately restrained my pace, and gradually came closer to the planned arrival times. Unfortunately, I was not feeling better. I started taking regular walk breaks, considering my options as I went. Around the 26 km mark, I was almost on pace, but I was still not getting better. I started thinking that I would retire at the end of the lap, as I was definitely running a risk of causing lasting damage. Laurens came cruising past. He looked comfortable. I told him that I might withdraw, and that he had to look for me in the parking lot.
I completed the second lap about two minutes early. I maintained a 6:00/km pace for the last km or two, but continuing for another lap definitely wasn't going to do me any good. I continued to the electronic tag readers before turning around and returning to the car. The walk there was not exactly fun. I was already getting stiff. I passed Thabo, just completing his second lap. He looked relaxed. I found the car and tried to make myself comfortable. I just could not find a comfortable position, but I did manage to doze off for about an hour. Laurens phoned me somewhat earlier than expected. He had clearly gained momentum on the last lap. I drove off and collected him from the gate. He had finished about 15 minutes ahead of schedule, with a comfortable Group G Comrades qualifier.
I'm very disappointed. I don't quite understand what the problem was. Exhaustion, the previous long day, my failure to have a decent breakfast and an initial pace a little faster than planned all played a role. At least I'm still in one piece and I can continue my training programme, but there is clearly a long way to go. Having missed a relatively lenient qualifying pace, I'll have to do somewhat better on a standard marathon. At least there are several months left.
The Good: Good running weather. Reasonably flat route.
The Bad: Weak and sore.
The Ugly: A miserable failure all round. How will I ever get back to running some real distance again?
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I was surprised to learn about Nuno's latest event, right on my doorstep. It was earlier than I would have liked, but at least I only had 400 m to walk to the start. They had pitched a gazebo in the gymnasium's parking lot, and after a few short announcements, we started on a clockwise circuit. It was still almost completely dark. On the gradual descent to Saint Street, the sky gradually lightened. Walter regaled me and Ken with a lecture on boutique trucks. The tale was interrupted by the sudden uphill in Saints. Atterbury Road is never a pleasant experience, and we arrived back at the gym after just under an hour. Laurens joined us in the last stretch. The second lap was counterclockwise. I was taking strain, perhaps not fully recovered from the previous Saturday. On the second lap, I started cleaning up the neighbourhood. As a result, I lagged a little behind my peers. Back at the gazebo, I decided to call it a day. The temptation of my house within visual range was just a bit too much. After chatting with Laurens and some girls for a few minutes, I headed home to tackle the rest of my Saturday. I kept telling myself that it was prudent to preserve myself for next Saturday's 48 km ultra...
The Good: Right on my doorstep.
The Bad: Stiff and tired. Clearly not fully recovered from the 32 km race.
The Ugly: 05:30!
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I somehow got bullied into entering for the Irene Ultra in April, so I was looking for a transition from the half marathon to the full marathon and beyond. The Kolonnade 32 km seemed like the perfect opportunity. I didn't feel quite ready, but 32 km races are few and far between, so I entered several weeks ago. I was overjoyed when Hanri informed me last week that she had also entered. Her best distance thus far is 25 km, so this race would be a step up. We agreed that we would aim for 6:15/km, her planned marathon pace. Laurens decided to take it easier, opting for 6:30/km instead.
Laurens collected me from the CSIR around 05:22. He insisted on parking as far as possible from the start line. On our walk in, we bumped into Danie and Melani—two more faces that I haven't seen in two years. We found the entry tables, collected our numbers and made our way to the start line. We arrived with more than five minutes to spare and found Hanri almost immediately. Very few athletes were wearing masks—perhaps under 10%. We started on time, crossing the start line in around 30 s. The bunch was dense, but flowed well. The first distance marker I saw was at 3 km, which we passed about 30 s late. Given the start, I was not worried. The next marker was at 6 km, by which time we had reduced the deficit to 5 s. We were running eastbound, parallel to the mountain. The terrain was rather even. This all changed when we turned right to face the mountain. We meandered through the streets of Montana, gradually making our way back to Kolonnade. We stayed within 10 s of our target pace all the way to 25 km. I encountered Hendrik, amazingly without his cousins. However, he soon found three girls from Pretoria Bobbies to team up with. We passed Gustav at some point. He was walking powerfully, as always. The water points were efficient and friendly.
The first lap ended at 15 km. The bunch did not thin out much. Halfway through the second lap, we entered the loop for the extra 2 km. Laurens was nowhere to be seen. I was a little worried, especially against the background of his rather ambitious two half marathons last weekend. Something else worried me; there was a noisy bus not far behind us. I resolved to stay well ahead of them. We passed 25 km on time, around 2:36:15. Hanri was now in uncharted territory. In addition to the normal level of fatigue one would expect, she complained of some pain in the gluteus maximus. She was still running strongly, but taking more regular walk breaks. I decided to use the opportunity to do some interval training. An Alpha Centurion runner with 30-odd Comrades and Two Oceans medals served as a marker, and I shuttled back and forth between him and Hanri. We were now losing time, the deficit soon sliding past the five minute mark. As we passed 1 km to go, I advised Hanri that we could still finish at less than 6:30/km. We ran strongly, finishing around 3:27 for a pace of just under 6:30/km. The scary part is that we could hear the noisy bus as we finished. What a narrow escape! We availed ourselves of the ablution facilities and returned to her club tent. Laurens soon found us. He had finished only minutes behind us, just within his planned 6:30/km. He reported that he had initially suffered, fearing that my admonitions about his two half marathons might not have been misplaced. However, as is his custom, he gained momentum throughout the race, completing the second lap much faster than the first.
We found our way back to the cars. I slumped into the passenger seat, feeling a little sorry for myself. All things considered, I'm happy. Our pace worked well to the 25 km mark, and I don't anticipate any lasting ill effects.
The Good: A "normal" 32 km race. There is life after The Flu! Good distance markers, albeit not every km. Hanri completing her longest race yet.
The Bad: Forgetting to lubricate your nipples before a long race is a mistake. Fabric is much more abrasive than you think.
The Ugly: The thought of adding another 16 km onto this distance next month strikes me as a tall order...
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This week, I collected my ASA racing licence from Gert. I was delighted to get my old AGN66 back, as there had been talk of the club losing its block of numbers after The Flu. It seems like the strategy I implemented a decade ago paid off; I had concentrated most of the members in the lower part of our block with the expectation that AGN might one day reallocate some of our numbers, and my own number proved to be one of the survivors when it finally happened.
Laurens had entered for two races this weekend. Given the Kolonnade 32 km race that looms next weekend, I thought it was a really bad idea. Accordingly, I planned to do a Parkrun on Saturday and a half marathon on Monday's public holiday. The Parkrun fell victim to a balloon flying opportunity, but I was eager to try out today's half marathon. I tried to pre-enter, but Entrytime's credit card portal did not work. The organisers emphasised that there would be limited entries on the day, so we planned to arrive with an hour to spare. I collected Laurens at 05:43 and arrived at Pilditch Stadium exactly at 06:00. There were no queues, and I had my entry in my hand at 06:05. The long wait became even longer, as the start was postponed to 07:30 due to delays with placing the marshals and then brought back to 07:15. We used the spare time to check out the cycling track and the newly-revamped athletics stadium.
Even though the three distances would start together, the bunch was relatively small, with perhaps a tenth of the 200-odd runners wearing masks. We started near the back, making our way forward in the first km or so. I soon lost contact with Laurens. In addition to the same circumspection I required to prevent a catastrophe next weekend, Laurens also had the recent half marathon in his legs. I jogged lightly on very even terrain, passing the 2 km mark at 12:30. I was slightly too slow. The 3 km mark slid by at 17:30—slightly too fast. I wondered about the veracity of the markers. The water points were all well organised. All the helpers handing out water sachets wore gloves—a new phenomenon since The Flu started.
The run-down industrial area made for interesting scenery. A noisy bunch from Faranani came by. Perhaps it is fortuitous that we were not in a residential area, so early on a public holiday. Around the 8 km mark, we started passing the tail-enders of the 5 km race. They looked much more exhausted than any of us on the longer route. We passed the turnoff to the finish. I was amazed to see that most of the runners continued for a second lap. 10 km came around 57 minutes. I was starting to feel tired, walking intermittently. The loop in the second lap went up a steep hill, mercifully short. We passed Cor Delfos station, making a 180° turn before running headlong down the steep hill to rejoin the loop. Towards the end of the loop, I saw Sandra walking up the hill. We exchanged greetings, the first since The Flu. I stuck to the dotted line between two lanes, avoiding the worst camber on the road. Several traffic cops and marshals felt it was their duty to nudge me to the other side of that dotted line. Nevertheless, the almost-zero camber helped a lot. It was clear that I would finish after somewhat more than two hours. At the 19 km mark, I estimated 2:02. At the 20 km mark, I estimated 2:01. At the finish line, I actually broke 1:59. Clearly, their distance markers were not great.
I waited for Laurens in the car. He finished around 2:12. We left straight away, stopping by at my mailbox on the way home. I hadn't collected mail in months. There was exactly one letter. Way to go, Post Office! As I write this in the early afternoon, at least it seems like I didn't overdo things. I'm tired and slightly sore, but at least I'm intact.
The Good: Things are definitely returning to normality. I was pleasantly surprised to break two hours without undue strain.
The Bad: Distance markers were a bit iffy; I only saw 10 of them (2, 3, 5, 8, 12, 14, 15, 18, 19, 20 km) and the spacing was irregular, to say the least.
The Ugly: Entrytime just doesn't seem to get this credit card thing right. Losing an hour of sleep is a high price to pay.
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With Event Numbers 1, 2 and 3 out of the way, we took the opportunity to collect Number 4 today. Vicky declined our invitation, so I invited Ken. He immediately accepted. Laurens met us there, as TA had decided to join him. Alet and I collected Ken from his house at 06:50, arriving at 07:30. Ken disappeared for a while, leaving us to explore the route and warm up. The trail was clean and well marked, but the slopes were daunting and the surface uneven. I set myself a target of at least breaking 30 minutes. The course looked boring on the map, but in real life the vegetation was dense enough that the head-on traffic was barely visible. I chatted to some of the participants. Many of them were high-ranking Parkrun tourists, including John Kollen, third in South Africa and just barely behind Bruce Fordyce with 222 different events. The announcements were short and sweet, and we started exactly on time.
To my surprise, Laurens surged ahead. After some initial jostling, I found myself in seventh place, maybe three places ahead of Laurens. We climbed a steep hill, then sailed downhill to the river. We followed the river for a while. The banks were littered with tonnes of garbage brought on by the recent rains, but the path was clean. The climb to the upper parking lot was laborious, to say the least. I walked much of it. After a short downhill grade, I passed the start point at 9:10. If I could maintain the pace for two more laps, I would at least achieve my target time.
We soon started lapping the tailenders. Most people yielded immediately to the left. I never felt obstructed. I lapped Alet, then TA and then Ken. I saw Laurens a few times in the loops, but lapping him was not on the cards. I again walked most of the serious uphill, entering the third lap at 19:00. I'd lost some time, but the goal was still within reach. The third lap was uneventful. I finished in seventh place around 29:20. Clearly, I'd lost some steam in the latter half, but at least I didn't bust the dreaded half-hour mark. Laurens finished soon after in 13th place, with Ken and TA arriving in due course. It was great to see TA back in the fray. Laurens and I tackled another lap, using the opportunity to relentlessly rib the course marshals and overtaking Alet near the river. I chatted to Rae for a while, and soon discovered that she and Ken have known one another for decades. As everyone had a busy day ahead, we soon headed home.
With events 1, 2, 3, 4 and 8 in the bag, the Top Ten is slowly approaching completion. Hopefully, focus on important stuff will return eventually...
The Good: TA's return to outdoor running. Alet appearing on the international Parkrun Most Events list. Yet another low Parkrun event number. A challenging route and more than enough heavy breathing.
The Bad: No distance markers, although the laps could serve the same purpose if your mental arithmetic is good enough.
The Ugly: Yet again, my resolve to do some more distance afterwards didn't result in more than one extra lap.
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A plethora of new Parkruns sprang up in the past few weeks. Having learned about several of them from Bruce at Bapsfontein, and having accumulated both a Number 1 and a Number 3 event, I suggested that we should attend a Number 2 this weekend. Laurens, Alet and Vicky accepted. Laurens wanted to take it easy, as he'd entered for a half marathon the following day. I've had lots of trouble with a sore back in the past weeks, and wasn't certain whether I'd be in shape for a Parkrun, but I was certainly going to try. I had a bad night, waking up dozens of times and having to apply a cold compress to manage the sore back muscles. The alarm clock was a rude interruption.
We left Alet's house around 05:40. After a scenic drive, we arrived at the venue at 06:30, with enough time to take a warmup stroll through the quarry and the piles of manure. I had a slight back cramp as I alighted from Laurens's car. I assumed there would be plenty of Parkrun tourists in attendance. I was not disappointed. I chatted to a group of runners in 100 and 250 shirts. Their number of events ranged from 85 to 180. All were eager to add another new one. Vicky had a nasty surprise when she realised that she'd forgotten to bring her barcode. The announcements started around 06:50. They were clear (if you understand Afrikaans) and outlined a complex route consisting of four loops. The announcer also indicated that the first km would be a climb, followed by 4 km of downhill. Some quick mental arithmetic left the distinct impression that the first km would have to be a serious climb...
We started on time, immediately tackling a breathtaking climb—breathtaking in the most literal sense. I initially settled into 13th place, then 11th. I could see five runners ahead. Like me, they were all walking. Eventually, we turned right to follow the contour. Most of us broke into a half-hearted jog. We turned right again, sailing down a steep slope with uneven paving. There was a great view to be had, with the Hartbeespoort Dam in the background, but the uneven footing meant that I hardly noticed any of it. We soon entered the second loop on even terrain. I passed a marker showing "4 km to go" at 6:20—slow, but not irredeemable. I crept up the field, reaching eighth place by the "2 km to go" at 16:50. We were now entering the fourth loop, down in the valley and with a gradual climb to the finish. We meandered through fairly dense growth. The surface was fairly even, but slightly muddy from the previous night's rain. A youngish man in black remained ahead of me, stubbornly resisting my attempts to catch him. Another followed behind, in dogged pursuit. There was not going to be any respite. "1 km to go", and the Black Knight cracked. I sailed past, leaving no-one in sight. After passing "500 m to go", I crossed the finish line under 28 minutes, in seventh place.
There was a commotion at the finish. Even though the number tags were strung on a line and were being handed out sequentially, the scanning was in disarray. The scanner did not seem to know what to do with runners without barcodes. I offered the race director some help, and started handing out number tags while trying to help with scanning advice. Laurens arrived in 31st place in about 35 minutes. By about the 50th finisher, things settled into a nice routine. Shortly before 08:00, more runners started arriving. The first one left disappointed when she learned that we'd started at 07:00. The next few all took the option to start late, based on my directions. Rather late than never! Alet and Vicky arrived in 121st and 122nd place. I was dismissed by about the 150th finisher, and we found our way to the nearby Harties attractions for breakfast and some fresh produce shopping. Because of the barcode scanning, not much came of my plan to do another 10 km or so afterwards.
The results confirmed the notion that the finish times were slightly out of sync. I am listed in seventh place as expected, but with a time somewhat different to my estimate. Laurens is shown in 28th place, with Alet and Vicky at 122 and 123 out of 160 finishers.
Events 1, 2 and 3 are now in the bag. We'll have to think carefully about our plans. Comrades looms in the distance, and we will have to start accumulating some real distance on Saturdays. For the moment, the temptation remains to do Event 4 and my first Parkrun in March and one starting with a C and...
The Good: Another new Parkrun event number. My first opportunity to be a Parkrun volunteer.
The Bad: Incomplete distance markers.
The Ugly: Our plans to do some real distance are not gaining momentum.
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I was a little surprised when Hanri sent us a flyer for an upcoming race. It had all the hallmarks of normality. Just like the olden days. We enrolled online for the half marathon, along with over 400 other runners. I collected my race number on Friday as instructed. Around 19:30, Laurens phoned me in a panic. He had not collected his number, and the collection point was now closed. On my suggestion he called an enquiries number, and was told that he would be accommodated in the morning.
I woke before the alarm clock, around 04:50. I made my way to the venue, finding parking 100 m from the finish line. I saw Lammie, Hennie, Jaap and Iain, all for the first time in almost two years. Hanri and Laurens were waiting at the start as agreed. The bunch was not too crowded, and about a third of the 400-odd runners were masked. With two minutes to go, Laurens pointed out that I had to undergo a Covid check. I rushed to the desk and had my temperature taken. I collected a green dot on my race number and rushed back to the start. I just made it, except the start gun didn't go. It finally went about three minutes late, and we were on our way. The planning was originally to maintain 6:00/km for the first 15 km or so, and then to accelerate to attempt a two-hour finish if our reserves allowed. Things didn't quite work as planned, though. We would do four laps of about 5 km each, but the extra 1100 m would be added at the start, not on the last lap. Accordingly, calculating our pace would be harder than usual. In addition, the distance markers were placed in descending order, requiring some higher-grade mental arithmetic.
Our first km or so felt much too fast, but Hanri assured me that it was fine. The next km felt just as fast, and Hanri assured me that we were much too fast. We slowed down a little, maintaining just under 6:00/km for the next lap or so. The bunch was rather thin by now. The lead vehicle shot by near the finish, followed by scrawny runners looking determined. This was not a good sign. I really didn't want to be lapped twice...
We were fairly comfortable, but it was going to be hard to maintain the pace. My calculations pointed to a 2:04 finish. My worst fears were realised when the lead vehicle shot by again, just before the end of the second lap. I consoled myself that it wouldn't have happened if the loop had been near the end. I consumed a gel sachet after two laps, while Hanri had some peanut butter, or reasonable facsimile thereof. On the final lap, I was feeling reasonably comfortable, but Hanri was taking strain. We walked twice. There was a white woman with blue dreadlocks ahead of us. I used her as a marker, and it was patently obvious that we were losing ground. I wasn't going to make two hours, so I decided to reserve myself to a 2:04 finish and use the opportunity to clean up the streets. I repeatedly lagged behind, and had to work hard to catch Hanri again. The Blue Rasta gradually disappeared up ahead. In the last km or so, I was definitely anaerobic. We finished just after 2:04 and collected some cool water before propping ourselves up near the finish. Biffy came to chat for a few minutes. Hanri was smug about her new personal best half marathon time. Lawrence arrived around 2:12. We continued to chat for a while before heading back to our cars. Much of the discussion revolved around how to complete a qualifying marathon in the next few months. Running a mediocre half marathon in February would be a disaster in a normal Comrades year, but at least this year's Comrades is a couple of months later than usual. Let's hope we can jump this chasm!
The Good: A real race, after almost two years without one! Good distance markers, albeit in the wrong order.
The Bad: Only one water point, with clumsy service and leaking water bags.
The Ugly: Two-something for a half marathon in February!
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I happened to be browsing some Parkrun records this week, and noticed that a new Parkrun had appeared. The Bapsfontein Hotel Parkrun (not to be confused with the now-defunct Bapsfontein Parkrun) started two weeks ago. Having recently completed an inaugural Parkrun at Eldoradopark, we just had to use the opportunity to do a Number 3 event at this new venue.
We left Alet's home at 06:30. She dropped us off near the Wellknown church just before 07:00. We plodded along in light rain, somewhat the worse for wear after Tuesday's brutal 15 km session. An occasional oncoming truck enveloped me in a cloud of fine mist. By the time I arrived at the hotel around 07:45, I had 8 km on the clock and a myriad of light brown spots on my once-white shirt. Laurens arrived a few minutes later. There were around 35 participants, with only about a quarter being masked. The announcements were succinct and audible, and we started on time. To my amazement, the announcer made no mention of Bruce Fordyce in the field. At all previous events that I had attended with him, he was asked to say something. This time, we were spared the bad standup comedy.
I started in seventh place, soon moving up the field to fourth. The three runners ahead appeared to be serious. Deep mud puddles spanned the entire width of the road in places, and they simply ran straight through. I tried to circumvent the first two, but soon realised that I was not going to keep up. I went straight through the third one, submerging my shoes and socks entirely in the mud. I soon lost contact with the three leaders, but the runner following me was intermittently visible with his red T-shirt. We ran on a graded road, often flanked on both sides by tall trees. The ambience was rather pleasant, with the cloud cover and lots of shade. The terrain was only slightly undulating. Had it not been for the mud, it could have been close to idyllic.
We followed the fence counterclockwise around the fenced premises to the 2 km mark, passing it at 10:40. We then swung left and tackled an inner loop. The 3 km mark went by at 15:45. I did not see any other distance markers. At the 3 km mark, we started following the fence back to the start. I soon passed Alet, coming the other way with some other pedestrians. The Red Baron pursued me relentlessly, mostly about 100 m behind. I noticed some brownish paths through the tall grass, skirting most of the muddiest pools. The runners behind us clearly did not fancy wading through the mud. I made good use of the detours. I gradually opened up the gap on the Red Baron. Near the end, there was some confusion about the exact line to follow. It looked like we were supposed to turn inside a line of cones, but I deliberately ran around one of them, just to be sure.
I finished in fourth place, just after 27 minutes. The three leaders were standing there, chatting. I joined them. To my amazement, all of them were fifty-something, or even older. I wasn't going to win my age group today! Laurens finished about two minutes behind me in seventh place. We went to scout the vicinity, seeing the remains of the legendary country music venue from the Seventies. It is now a small shopping centre with a variety of novelty shops. Bruce finished about 10 minutes behind Laurens. I walked back on the course to find Alet. I found her engrossed in conversation with a young girl, and ambled to the finish with them. I asked Bruce Fordyce about possible new Parkruns in the vicinity. Looks like there are some opportunities to accumulate some low event numbers in the immediate future! The original plan had included the possibility of a run back to the church, but the temptation of Alet's car proved irresistible. On the way back, we stopped at a breakfast venue.
The results proved interesting. The winner, Rodney Trevor Jones, is over 60 and has 322 Parkruns and 81 venues to his credit. Runner-up Gavin Arentsen won my age group, with 181 Parkruns and 39 venues. Third was Tracy Rankin, fifth on the South African tourist list with 473 Parkruns and 202 different venues. Unknowingly, I had been chatting to some real celebrities! The Red Baron is a local, with almost all his previous Parkruns at the former Bapsfontein Parkrun. Other luminaries on the Tourist list that I noticed in the results included Leonvz Touring, Anita Blount and, of course, the Fordyces.
The Good: Taking in a new Parkrun venue close to home, while still getting in some distance. Finally seeing the legendary Bapsfontein country music haven from yesteryear.
The Bad: Only two distance markers (unless I missed something).
The Ugly: Mud halfway up my shins, and that with my brand-new running shoes and socks...
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Some weeks ago, while looking for a new Parkrun venue close to home, I happened to notice that a new Parkrun would be starting at Eldorado Park. I diarised the date and told all my running partners about it. All were initially interested, but the attrition continued until only Laurens and Alet were left. We collected Laurens at 06:45, arriving at the venue around 07:30. But for Laurens's smartphone, finding the venue would have been an adventure. My directions relied on street names, which are not exactly well marked on streets in that valley. I had also prepared directions to two nearby Parkruns in Soweto, just in case. There was no need to fear—there was plenty of activity and the parking lot was already filling up with cars.
The brand-new Parkrun has been laid out in a small park around the sports stadium. The route traverses the entire property twice, including some meandering inside the grounds and three laps of the stadium. The speeches were heavier than usual, including a speech by guest celebrity Bruce Fordyce. Bruce claimed that he expected to win his age group, as all his contemporaries were dead. The bunch was rather large—I estimated between 300 and 400 participants. Bruce fired the starting gun and joined the bunch just behind me. We started with a full lap of the track. We quickly lapped the tail-enders, passing on the right and leaving the stadium to circumnavigate the grounds. The terrain was flat, making for a relatively fast pace. I settled into 21st place. At the end of the first lap, we all received elastic armbands as proof of completion. We were now in dense traffic, negotiating the tail-enders with their toddlers, prams and dogs. Approaching the end of the second lap, I saw Alet just in front of me. A marshal told me that I had to turn left into the stadium. I did, and ended up in a dead-end. By the time I rejoined the proper route, Alet was still in front of me. I barely missed lapping her. The last lap of the track was tough, with me gasping for breath while chasing a much younger guy. I finished in 20th place in 26:20.
We were back in Pretoria by 10:00. By mid-day on Sunday, there was still no sign of results. I was really, really hoping that they hadn't lost it all. The results finally appeared during the afternoon. There were some surprises. I had moved up to 19th and my time had shrunk to 26:02. I suspect they had lost a runner somewhere along the line. Laurens was still in his original 42nd spot, and Alet still in her 284th place. More surprisingly, 681 finishers were listed—a lot more than I'd estimated.
Now we've finally run out of excuses. It's time to start doing some real distance on Saturdays. Maybe we'll take off the occasional Saturday just for the fun of it, or to complete some badge requirements. For example, I still need to do a March, April and May Parkrun one day; and one starting with a C, and one starting with a U, and another starting with B, and two more starting with R...
The Good: The chance to complete Event Number 1 at a new location. A festive atmosphere. Beating Bruce Fordyce again.
The Bad: Not a single distance marker.
The Ugly: Time to face the real distances again.
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I unexpectedly had to fly to Cape Town, raising the possibility of another new Parkrun. I had some concerns about getting to a venue, as most Parkruns are still closed, but after landing in Cape Town, Naseer indicated that he would join me. His brother Moosa would pick us up at the hotel. We would be back in time to leave for the airport at 10:00 as planned.
Several attractive choices are still closed, so I settled on Rondebosch Common. It has been open for the past four weeks, and we could always divert to nearby Zandvlei, which has been open for the past six weeks. I sent Lia a text message, as she also seems to have been chasing a few new venues recently. I got to bed just after midnight.
Sunlight through a gap in the curtains woke me up around five. Soon after, there was a response from Lia. I got the impression that my message may have been delivered late, but Lia indicated that she was doing Century City. Pity—would have been nice to see her.
Moosa picked us up at 07:20. We found parking around 07:30 and went looking for Naseer2. I was relieved to see that the terrain is flat; very flat. I read the notices relating the history of the place, going back to the 17th century. Naseer1 and I walked and jogged for a few minutes to warm up before returning for the briefing. There was a large banner with instructions: Keep right, pass left, keep dogs on a short leash. We would do slightly more than two laps.
The briefing was audible and clear. Most of the runners were prudently spaced and masked. Seeding banners divided runners into batches according to expected finish time. I presumptuously joined the sub-25 bunch, right at the front. We started about two minutes late. With only fast runners in the bunch, we soon settled into order. I was around 33rd. Very little overtaking happened, but we faced a constant stream of oncoming walkers and runners. They had not been briefed to keep right. The first km went by in 4:50. Ambitious, but not disastrous. A youngster came sprinting past. I wondered how long it would last. I didnít have to wait long. He blew up and started walking, allowing me to sail past. 2 km came at 09:30. Perfect. The extra oxygen definitely helps. I completed the first lap, then passed the 3 km mark at 14:20. There was a real chance that I would break 25 minutes for the first time since The Flu started.
I was suffering. Just after the 3 km mark, I had to take a walk break for the first time. I probably took another four walk breaks, arriving at the 4 km mark around 19:50 and the finish at 24:40. I was 31st, almost a minute inside my post-Flu best. I was tired but comfortable.
I walked back to find my companions. I found Naseer2 around 28:00 near the finish. He would definitely finish under 30 minutes. Naseer1 and Moosa were nowhere to be found. I walked almost all the way around the lap before a car pulled up beside me and offered me a lift. The pair had decided to quit after the first lap. They saw me backtracking and eventually came to look for me by car. I was sweating profusely, something that seldom happens back home. The temperature was over 30°C by the time we arrived at the airport.
Everyone enjoyed the outing. We may have several new Parkrun participants. I am certainly happy that I was able to cash in on the extra oxygen to break 25 minutes, in addition to adding yet another Parkrun to my tally.
Next week weíre planning to attend a brand-new Parkrun. Weíll use the opportunity to log Event Number 1, but then weíll have to knuckle down and start doing some real distance. Who knows, maybe Iíll get another coincidental opportunity to notch up a few more Parkrun venues this year.
The Good: Great organisation. Well-maintained track in a historic location. Flat terrain. Great distance markers. Lots of oxygen. 24-something!
The Bad: Not bumping into Lia as I was hoping I would.
The Ugly: Litres of water dripping onto the floor around me.
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Yet another Saturday, yet another Parkrun. Unfortunately, Parkrun's Total Control policy got the upper hand, and the arrangement that allowed two or three Parkruns on New Year's Day has been cancelled. We left Alet's house at 06:30, collected Laurens at 06:45 and found our way to the venue with half an hour to spare. Laurens and I walked around the route, while Alet, Latie and Amelia stayed behind. The wind was gusty, predicting nothing good about the Parkrun. We mostly walked, breaking into a token run towards the end. At least I wasn't as stiff as the previous Saturday. I found a series of Alberts family graves, the oldest that I noticed dating from 1888.
A concise route briefing for new arrivals started early, followed by the main briefing. I thought we'd actually start on time. It was not to be. The main briefing was long-winded in the extreme, and we only got going around 08:03. The start was not as boisterous as one often sees, and I settled into 22nd place. The surface was slippery, rutted and full of tall grass—a far cry from some of the manicured routes we've recently seen. The route meanders around the park, with two gradual climbs onto the back side of Northcliff hill. Blue skies allowed the sun to bake down mercilessly. I occasionally walked on uphills. There were no distance markers, making it hard to judge my pace. Over the last half, I passed only two runners and only two passed me. I finished around 28:15 in 20th place.
Laurens finished several minutes later. He was not keen to do another lap, so I walked back along the route to find the other three. I found them around 4 km. A woman carrying a child against her chest was just ahead of them. I had a hard time keeping up with her, despite her 20 kg handicap. It turns out that her family also did the Parkrun tourist circuit. We finished again, found our way to the car and made our way home, to resume our normal Saturday chores around 10:00.
Laurens and I reflected along the way that we cannot maintain this Parkrun spree indefinitely. Soon, we'll have to knuckle down and start doing some real distance on Saturdays. But the respite is fun while it lasts.
The Good: Finding another green haven in the middle of Johannesburg.
The Bad: No distance markers at all.
The Ugly: 27:30 last week, 28:15 this week. Not a good trend...
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