one of those weirdos who runs (for fun) and then drives to work via the same route to measure the exact distance. It's official – I have caught the running bug and I wear my blisters and bruised toenails like badges of honour.
The irony is not lost on me... I used to be the poster child for sleeping in, the cheerleader for treadmills with aircon, and the last person any of my friends would have pegged for a runner. I was the girl who always said things like 'but it's soooo bad for your joints' and 'road running is far too dangerous as a woman' – there may have been a little truth in my excuses but realistically I'm never gonna be a Comrades junkie or silly enough to run solo after sunset. I am, however, starting to understand why people run, why people get up at sparrow fart on a Saturday morning and pound the pavement. There is nothing better than having chewed up 10km's of quiet tarmac before breakfast or the feeling of accomplishment when you get to the top of that hill, your nemesis, even if you did look like a spastic ostrich at least you fought the urge to walk and kept running.
Want cold, hard evidence that I have the facts to back up these claims? Well, on Saturday morning I woke up, leapt into my running gear, kissed my fast asleep hubby goodbye and ran out the door at 7am. Two hundred metres into my usual 8km route I got an idea and decided to follow through – I would run to my mom's place and surprise her with a breakfast visit. Now every beginner knows that a new route can be challenging at the best of times and an unknown route can be terrifying. In this case, ignorance was bliss because by the time I realised just how steep one stretch of Bowling Road really was, I was already halfway up it, and by the time I caught my breath at the top just in time to see the nasty climb of Kelvin Drive I had no option but to keep going. I was soooo close to my mom's and only two kilometres of sweat-inducing, butt-burning, calf-stinging incline stood between me and the nice flat hundred or so metres to the front gate of my family home.
Ringing the buzzer was such a 'pat on the back' moment – I'd done it... I'd run just over 7km's on a Saturday morning for fun. Yip, it was official – I'd crossed over to the other side. The side that wears a heart rate monitor and doesn't see pasta as the enemy.
Comments