The Zen of my Able Body

“May is National Runner's month. (Note: Couldnt find any source to confirm this tho)

Do something good for you or the runner in your life" 
 

This I saw on a tweet earlier and it put into action a thought I’ve been having. Not an original thought, those are hard to come by with social media scattering thoughts and inklings around, almost every second.

It’s been two weeks since I walked the Two Oceans Half marathon (it took every ounce of energy not to hash tag that right there). Looking back I have to admit to myself, that even at my best training period I wasn’t near ready. So many things I learnt about the Zen of running since the start of this year. (I google everything - and found this)

First was that I don’t need company to run. My nerves built up so much that I forced myself to go out there on my own. I don’t know what I thought was scary about doing it alone – much I suppose like meeting new friends – the fear I’d make an ass of myself. After a while, seeing little improvements, rolling out of bed into my running clothes, that air punch after a great session – became something I was jealous about and wanted to keep for myself. So I gained the courage to train by myself.

The last coupla weeks running up to the race day was hard. It was a hurdle to cross, an ego to sooth and wounds to lick. I grew up as a clumsy child, so my overprotective mother informed my school teache

rs not to put me in sport – and they never did. By the time I went to high school I never did anything besides ride my bike. But actual sports like run, netball etc was absolute foreign concepts. In fact I got trampled on all 3 times I ever played netball – so was pretty much afraid of it.

Until I joined Bootcamp in November 2008. And there even though I was the slowest camper I grew to absolutely love it. Being the slowest didn’t bother me at all – well in terms of comparing myself to others that is – we are all different and besides how am going to chirp our instructor if I’m sprinting ahead.

Anyway bootcamp blew alive a flame deep inside, an appreciation for my body, loving to see sweat beads develop, feeling muscle stiffness in places I didn’t know existed, the best is the warm bath after a wintry morning out on the pitch. It was all new, all fun…and then I didn’t want to be the slowest camper anymore….which is sort of explained in previous posts.

So this big race was an absolute new addition to my frame of reference. I started following experienced athletes/fellow newbie runners on twitter and soon I started feeling part of a community. In my environment I was still an anomaly; folks weren’t quite getting this running thing. Looking at me like I’m a lunatic when I share my morning run with them. My mother, bless her heart, kept trying to discourage me by saying: “Don’t push yourself so hard.” Pfffft. That made me almost defiantly determined.

Things were getting on nicely, I was doing 7km a day/twice a week, with long walks (13km) on a weekend. I had a plan, it was working. Until after a break from bootcamp, see previous post. I went back, figuring the interval and strength training will be the perfect addition to my regime and I tried to slot it into the schedule – in the back of my mind, I did acknowledge at some point: “hey, here are no rest days in this plan.”

So then to compensate meant I had to double up running and bootcamp on the same day. Looking back it was probably the stupidest thing I could have done. So on that fateful Friday morning, straight after camp we venture up Jonkershoek – parked the cars and did our thing. I ran and I ran, once or twice I felt that pressure in the knee, but it wasn’t an acute stabbing pain – just pressure, we turned and ran back, all in all of the 7km I ran 5km of it continuously. It was a day of achievements as just that morning I shaved 2 minutes off my bootcamp time trial. (Side note: the fact that I can now talk this timing gibberish is something to behold). And then just after Lanzerac was the downhill stretch into the residential area, which was made for flying down it and it’s what I proceeded to do – and that’s when my knee gave me not one, but two bitch slaps! Asking: “Who do you think you are pushing me beyond my limits?” Two stabbing pains and that was it, I limped to the car and I think I knew then…

I looked for a physio (mine left for New Zealand two weeks after treating me the first time – no I didn’t drive the woman to leave the country) because I wanted someone to tell me whether I should continue training and most importantly if I will hurt my knee irreparably if I do. Turns out physio’s don’t really do that, they kinda just give you the lowdown and then guilt you into taking it easy.

So the writing was on the wall, there was no more time, and I had to decide what I was going to do. The whole time I felt like a quitter. I embraced the disappointed as I have learnt to do in this old life, cried it out and then decided to find someone, preferably a novice to take my number. And then I woke up one morning before dawn and the ego said: To hell with it, we are doing this even if we walk. (Do not be disturbed by the ‘we’ talk – no schizo – just a coupla alter ego’s)

So I shook off the disappointment, started getting excited rooting for my homies real and virtual who were actually going to run. And that morning standing there in a sea of people with my friend, I felt on top of the world and ten feet tall. I was going to be the best little walker ever!

I had my tjunes and my spirit and I was not going to give up. (I’d hiked Drakensburg and Fish river canyon, so knew I can walk ±25km a day – only this didn’t have lunch and swim breaks). During the run up of the starting gun, the frenzy of nerves was almost tangible. Then we sang the National Anthem and pride swell up inside! My friend and I agreed when the gun goes, she’s going to keep walking with me and when it’s time for her to be off, we’ll *High 5* and see each other back at the finish.

And the gun went, and I self-noted: No matter how excited you get, do not run else these knees won’t reach 21.1km. So we kept walking and then she turned to me, I knew, we *High 5’d* and I let out a loud whistle and my friend was off – I was so proud of her that moment.

Soon she and well, pretty much the whole crowd was gone. And behind us the 56km was about to start, I walked and got comfortable, started warming up. After the 2km mark, there was bright lights and commotion and it was the front runners of the 56km making their way past. I stopped and took in the moment whistling and whooping! And when they were off, I turned down the road and the day began for me.

The 5km came so quick it was a ***** surprise, people were so friendly and cheering and it made me feel great. I walked and I walked, now and then I felt and niggle but remained conscious and pulled back a little at every niggle. When I reached 10km it was an even greater surprise cause I walked it 10 minutes faster that Spar Ladies Race. But I knew what was coming shortly after and I couldn’t not allow myself at any point to have any kind of doubt, or else I would not make it up that hill.

Yes, Southern Cross was looming (totally, just wanted to hash tag that too). I took the only Gu gel I had, a couple sweets and two water sachets, shuffled thru my iPod and got Pitbull’s – I know you want me. Put my ass into it, and made that hill my biatch – as we say in twitterworld.

Thank goodness, we drove it and walked it before so I knew how long it was, when the bend was and where the end was. And when I got to the top – yohhhhhh the quiet joy. Quiet – because there was no one else around me. I kept going, by now having had that boost of that little incline of achievement, my little short legs were going – I actually got into some kinda walk/jog stride….little did I know.

At 12.5 km I think, Calve1 said: Hold on a minute, we didn’t sign up for this. It pulled so stiff I was limping, my heart sank cause there was no way I could walk another 9km limping. I freaking almost cried…and this young guy ran over with a tube of Arnica. I took it and with my swollen hands and stiff back tried to bend down and massage it. And then he asked: “Would you like me to do it?” Ahhhh…he massaged that bloody tennis ball sized knot at least 80% out and I was on my way. Then 1km further Calve2 imitated what had just happened. This time I called a medic on the side of the road to massage it out. Without Arnica and dry hands, it was vrek sore but helped enough to keep going.

Then I reached 15km and suddenly there were lots of people and marshals and another walker lady. I heard one of the marshals ask: “Are these the last two?” Then a traffic car pulled in right behind us at our pace and escorted us pretty much the whole way until about 20km. Yes, I was with Josephine from Jozi and we were the very last 21km runner/walkers. See, being slowest camper all that time, this didn’t faze me or my ego at all. I came to do this for me, to cover the route so that next year when I’m ready I can be technical and strategic and kick proper ass.

There we were, walking, and people cheering and soon, the cheering became less about us, but more about the 56km leading athletes coming in. And here I think is where I’m certifiable, I stopped trying to make time (I mean, really) and was getting excited to see the proper runners come by. Oh man, and when they did we had the best seat in the house!!!! Again, I stopped and whistled and whooped! Some spectators on the side of the road thought this was hilarious and they cheered me even more. (Pity some folks couldn’t pronounce my long name – they looked at me puzzled and then shouted Josephine’s name).

I was in absolute awe seeing the speed and energy those guys still had after 56km. It was a truly inspirational time. Then I needed to focus, the last bit seemed to take longer than most of the distance already covered. Why is that? My feet started to burn, and it was unpleasant. I know exactly what blister forming burn feels like and I tried to just ignore the peaks of pain coming from my feet. Eventually we crossed the 500m to go mat. Gha! That time is registered on Two Oceans Results page.

It was the best day ever; I loved the spirit of the Cape Town crowd. I was inspired by the winners and also my athlete real and twitter buddies. And I don’t think I can have a life again where I’m not doing something be it swim, run, walk or yoga.

This brings me back then to the action, that was set in motion by the tweet above.

I’m going start my very own 100 day challenge. Everyday do something with my able and healthy body. The only rule is if I skip a day I must do 2 on the next day. My activities for starters will be walking, swimming, gym session and yoga.