So I ran (ok walked) the Outsurance 10km Gun Run a couple of weeks ago. It was hard; in fact 2 weeks on, I am still waiting for the feeling to return to my legs. My knees are still not fully functional and when I walk up/down stairs I look like a geriatric double knee-replacement candidate. But it was all for a good cause, so worth it.
I didn’t realise how far removed I was from the whole running scene until I was dropped off near the Start and discovered I had no watch on. Not only that, I also had no “energy sachets”, no money and no cell phone. In a nutshell… unless I completed the race and walked the 2km back to my brother’s flat where my car was parked, I was pretty much screwed!
My “far removed” status was confirmed when I ambled over to the Starting Line. There I was in my loose fitting tracksuit type pants (which if I’m being honest here, more often than not double as pyjamas). I was also wearing a Woolies shirt I bought in 1997 when I first joined the then Health and Racquet club in East London. This particular shirt has seen 14 years of action (a.k.a sweat) and is still going strong, so serious props to Woolworths quality! The only semi decent “professional” looking thing on my person was my shoes (and funky Addidas socks that I won when I wrote my Shape article, which I hope you all read…. But I digress….) Needless to say amongst all the brightly coloured hot pants, tanks and club colours, I stuck out like the proverbial (badly dressed) sore thumb.
I got there early which meant I had to listen to Liezl van der Westhuizen try and pump up the crowd for just on 60 (long) minutes. She is annoying at the best of times, but first thing on a Sunday morning, is really asking a bit much. I tried to psych myself up and joined the masses at the starting line, which turned out to be a big mistake. I am not sure what it is about me, but for some reason I attract random people who feel the need to engage in conversation with me while touching parts of my body to emphasise their point. In this case, the guy did A LOT of emphasizing.
South Africa was playing Australia in the quarter finals on this particular morning and my touchy friend took great delight in telling me he antagonizes people, on purpose, by saying he supports anyone playing AGAINST SA ??????? His stories required a lot “emphasizing” and I was seriously concerned that I’d be spending the 10km walking alongside touchy toucherson. Since he is a cyclist he told me (in way too much detail) why men’s legs look better shaved. I think he saw my “seriously freaked out” face after he pointed out the 10th pair of unshaven legs and suddenly we were back onto how pathetic the Boks are. I was neither interested nor concerned about either topic.
Eventually he wondered off and thankfully I was able to start my walk alone. There is just "something" about the camaraderie of a race. Whether it’s a fun run or a serious race like the Comrades, the atmosphere of a race is seriously awesome – even for a hacker like me.
The Gun Run is a really cool race to take part in. The 10km course is flat, scenic and a simple stroll from start to finish. I would highly recommend it to anyone who is able to walk/run 10km. My only complaint would be that there are relatively few supporters (compared to a race like the 2 Oceans)… so it does get a little lonely if you are walking on your own.
I like walking with 1 or 2 spare water sachets in case the water points run dry and the strollers like me end up having to drink from dripping public taps. Along the route I suddenly heard a voice calling “Auntie”, “Auntie”… it took me a while to realise that a little boy in a wheelchair was calling me. So I happily turned around, greeted and waved. Then he started shouting “Auntie… water”, “Auntie … water” – as first I didn’t understand what he was saying and since he was “challenged”, I thought perhaps he was just shouting random stuff. But then I realised he wanted my water sachet. I must be honest, at first I was torn. But seriously, how could I possibly deny a wheelchair bound little boy my water sachet. So I gave it to him and continued on my merry way… until I felt something wet on my back and squeals of laughter. It was then that I realised, my precious water was being squirted AT ME!!! I considered grabbing the half full (empty??) sachet from his little hands… but seriously, how bad would that have looked!
At around the 7km mark I happened to pass my brother’s flat (where my car was parked) and I seriously (seriously - seriously) considered packing it all in and watching the end of the game. My knees were aching, my toes were burning - pretty much everything hurt. But since I was walking for a cause AND I was being sponsored per km I walked and walked and walked. In the back of my mind though I kept thinking that while I only had 3km to go until the end, I still had the 2km to walk back to my car. So in total my “race” still had 5km left. If I had planned better, I would have walked with a cell phone or money to be able to summon someone to come fetch my tired ass at the end. But alas.
Organisers of the race should know that it is SERIOUSLY demoralising to see people already walking BACK to the starting area (car park) on the same path that is being used by runners who are still trying to finish the race. It’s painful – trust me.
I eventually finished the race and started my (long) walk back to my car – finish medal in hand (well, considering I had nothing else with me!!) I’m not going to lie, I was in serious agony and then low and behold halfway back my left knee just buckled, wobbled and seized. I was in such utter and complete shock, the only word that escaped my mouth was a very soft (albeit high pitched) “oh!”
So phoneless/penniless me stood frozen to the spot wondering how the %^%#$ I was going to get home. Luckily I saw a girl chatting on her phone a few metres away, so I hobbled towards her. I explained my situation and even though this wonderfully friendly girl offered to drive me to my brother’s flat, I said that all I needed was to make a call. But my ordeal wasn’t over. She handed me her BlackBerry and I entered my brother’s number… what came up on the screen was “afecdgfsvr” – WTF?? So, thinking I’d broken her phone, I turned to her and said “I think I’ve done something wrong”… she just laughed and said “So you don’t own a BlackBerry”… I just smiled. I really wanted to say “You think, Einstein?” But she was helping ME, so I really wasn’t in a position to be snippy.
My brother rescued me and drove me back to his flat. I managed to hobble in and was grateful to finally sit down. In hindsight I should have just driven home without going up. My brother had just returned from honeymoon, so lucky me (and my painful knees), I had to sit through 600 photos of them in Bali. Trust me; one can only say “wow… that’s a nice picture” so many times before it starts sounding downright insincere. I mean the only thing more painful than viewing someone elses holidays snaps is, well, come to think of it... there is NOTHING more painful!! (Just kidding guys…. I loved looking at your photos and can’t wait to see the one THOUSAND wedding photos… F.Y.I: Please make sure your wedding photo party has (lots of) wine!)
The GORGEOUS couple
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