Tag: running

Day 428 – Still got it*

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* terms and conditions apply

I may be pushing [milestone birthday], I may have a dodgy knee, a dodgy ankle and several (or more) mashed and pulped intervertebral discs, but I still managed a 5:55/km run this morning. It’s important to note that this is up hills and down dales – you don’t get to run on the flat in this bit of Cape Town. And I think I could go much faster on the flat.

That sort of pace might not be a big deal for you (especially if you have a car), but we each get to set our own targets and goals, and trying to get below 6 minutes per kilometre is a reasonable one for me. And I know that I’ve put it at an appropriate level because I’ve worked hard to get there and I nearly died a bit upon crossing my finishing line, yet it seems like I will actually still be able to operate at something approaching normality for the rest of the day.

All about balance.

Next time, I’m going to find a more horizontal bit of Cape Town, run on that for a while and see how fast I can go.

Day 403 – Don’t waste the day

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It is hot out there today. Really hot. Paula Fish would be having great time.

Big plus: I don’t need to light the fire we still don’t have.

I got out early for a reasonably brisk 5km. Back in the day, it used to be all about how fast I could get up a hill. And it will be like that again sometime soon. However, in my current condition, it’s more about whether I make it up the hill at all (I did) and whether there’s a sneaky episode of vasovagal syncope waiting for me near the top (there almost was). Who knew that there was a long tunnel at the top of Visser Avenue?
But the hills are good for training, and the view from the top was pretty special. I didn’t take a camera with me (because who does?), but I might pop up there and get a pano across the city if there’s a suitable morning soon.

Once I’d recovered, it was off to do those pesky Monday morning errands in seventeen different places across the Southern Suburbs. All went well apart from the frankly stupid decision to take Wynberg Main Road as a shortcut. Wynberg Main Road is never a shortcut, although you do get to see all sorts of interesting people along there. It’s like the Dubai Airport or the Deep Space Nine of Cape Town, but grimier and with a lot more taxis.

However, despite that minor inconvenience, everything got done and I was back in time to unpack the shopping to Charlotte de Witte’s There’s No One Left To Trust. There’s a time and a place for heavy techo, and today it was 12ish and in my kitchen.

However, that’s not all. With winter on the way (it’s just around mid-30s outside) (yes, Celcius), I’m not wasting this peach of a day.
Braai tyd vanaand because you never know when your next chance will be. It might be tomorrow, but it might not.
Looking at the forecast, it probably will be tomorrow.

Anyway, I need to sort a few more things out – lunch and a blog post (this are it) – before heading out to get the kids from school and the usual afternoon chaos ensues, so let’s chat again Tuesday, hey?

Keep safe, keep well.

Day 3 – the worst half hour yet

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The worst half hour yet.

I decided yesterday afternoon – on a whim – to try a backyard run. Other people have done it, why shouldn’t I?

I shouldn’t have done it.

It was half an hour of boredom, extreme concentration, hectic effort and very little reward.

Boredom because it was the same thing over and over and over and over again. Concentration because there were trip hazards everywhere, one of which was mobile and kept barking at me and trying to eat my shoes while I was trying to run. Effort because there were so many turns and obstacles that my average stride length turned out to be just 0.65m. That’s against my average of 1.12m on a normal run. So despite what that very dodgy looking 9:30/km average seems to suggest, there was an awful lot of hard work going into getting myself around the front and back gardens. And little reward because all I felt at the end was hot, bothered and miserable. There was no post-run glow or exaltation. No feeling of achievement. There was just one endorphin. I wanted thousands.

Still, I did it, and I’ll likely do a couple more over the next three weeks, because even though it’s not very pleasant, it does still get the heart going and it does still get the Discovery points.

 

UPDATE: Experts don’t like it either.

The battle continues…

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The battle between the allied forces of my diet and my exercise, and my love of beer continues to rage on around my midriff. On the plus side, I’ve been exercising pretty regularly: just about every day to some degree.
Sadly, the high temperatures and my lack of will power has led to some erosion of the benefits of that exercise, in that I have enjoyed some (or more) beers next to the pool, with dinner or – in one particular case – next to the pool with dinner over the last week or so.

It could be worse. I could be drinking and not exercising. Or, if you choose to look at it another way, exercising and not drinking. And so while I’m not necessarily getting all that I could be from my runs or gym visits, I’m happy enough. Everything in moderation. Including, it would seem, progress on my fitness.

But there is progress. A few centimetres here, a couple of kilos there. I’m getting there (slowly). And the great news is that the bits that were the most hurty before Christmas are not the bits that are (temporarily) hurting after my exertions.

This morning’s 5km was my fastest of the year: indeed, looking back, (surprisingly) my fastest since 1st September last year. Evidently, things are on the mend.

Even if I won’t be able to stand up once I finish writing this post.

Ja. I’m a bit stuck. Could someone get me a beer, please?

Hello? Anyone?

A different Sunday

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My run this morning wasn’t great. I managed to pull back a bit of time at the end, but the combination of a gale force NorthWesterly wind, my reluctant legs and last night’s disappointing meal at the Blockhouse Kitchen at Uitsig weighing me down made for a tough five kilometres.

The country is on hold this morning, wondering whether the Springboks can make it through to the Rugby World Cup final. They’ve had something of a free run so far: since losing losing to New Zealand on the opening day, they’ve only played one team ranked inside the top ten. And that was Japan.
And only one team in the top twenty. And that was Italy.

Wales might be a tougher test, but there’s always a French referee on whom to blame any prospective defeat.

Me? Well, the rugby is on in the background, but I’m doing jobs around the house and feeding myself with coffee and anti-inflammatories.

Later, I may drink some beer and watch some football. I deserve it.

 

UPDATE: As soon as I clicked the publish button and glanced at twitter:

Like I said…