I spent my run thinking about an honest post, my Thursday morning quality run in Jan Marais Park in Stellenbosch’s (Wikipedia) CBD. A run like most others with confused emotions and yo-yo arguments with a doubting alter ego. Some runs’ more so than others, but none more so than this windy push on tired legs.
I’d had two better days. Better days equate to a fatigued body which in turn equates to run down emotions with a fragile will. Better days make for a motivation to build on their success, to keep the positive flow and tick off another ‘good day’ into the bag (the metaphorical form storehouse). But then there’s the unexpected wind, blowing from nowhere through one’s soul to nowhere somewhere else to change the mood.
A cold wind building a white cloud bank on the Jonkershoek mountains is never a good sign. I’d procrastinated as much I could - as per usual. Till I have no more time to waste before having just enough time to finish my 75min run total time and get to pilates in the nick of time. I was negative . I could’ve been back in bed, napping, lying, dozing. Anything but time in the wind.
But off I went…
This was my one important effort for the day: 6x800m with two minutes jog recovery, followed by 4x400m with 400m jog recovery. A cruisy swim to keep Stoltz company after lunch, and a spin in the evening. So just one bit of hurt. I can handle that. But I dont want to. I had such a cracker run on Tuesday night, a big hill set above Coetzenburg which I can still feel it in the legs.
I’m solo this morning. Couldnt convince any of the usual suspects to join. Dan, me, myslef and I. Plus the trusty Ipod. Its thumping some tracks Ruth’s uploaded. She had a good night out on town last night. Why didnt I join? Would have been neat to join. I havent joined for a while.
I should join.
This is my party though. My clubbing: Music pumping, heart pulsating, body moving, sweat dripping. This is my club – the outskirts of the the grass fields at Coetzenburg as the usual warm up lap. My emotions still havent bounced. I’m still feeling angry. But the old legs are loosening and coming round. Coming to the party. After ducking through a whole in the fence, I hobble across rocks in the Eerste River (picture), to cut across a few high society blocks in Mostertsdrift to the Jan Marais Park with its 1mile gravel track loop against its outskirts. Clouds are flying by above.
In need for speed and inspiration I crank up the volume of some house track in a language I cant understand. But the base and rhythm are universal. My heart syncs to the beat, my breathing I defeaned by its noise. I dont want to do this. F#@k this. I’m not in the mood. Come on. Just get the first one on, the hardest part is making a start. You’ll be fine. I dont want to be fine. I dont want to be here.
Want?
Where’s your want? Your hunger? Do you want this? I dont always know. Depends what time of day I guess. If I’d have gone out partying last night, I couldnt possibly be feeling much worse than this. Surely. Useless. Useless but determined enough to start my Garmin Forerunner 305′s first lap split. Music is still pulsating through my ears, blocking the sensation of wind. Limp Bizkit, Linkin Park, JLo - I dont want to listen to JLo.
Lyrics:
Drama makes the world go around. (go around)
Does anybody got the problem with that? (yeah)
My business, is my bussiness, whose guilty?
Can I get a witness?
First thing first,
The chocolate starfishs is my man fred durst.
Access hollywood liscences to kill,
A redneck fucker from jacksonville.
Bringning on the dumb stuff funk,
A microphone [machettis? ] in the back of my trunk.
Rock is so steady with the he-says she-says,
And dont forget about the starfish never gave shun system.
Dont hate me, Im just an alien, with 37 tons of new millenium.
Dum-di-di-dum, where is it coming from?
1, 2, 3 in the bag. All down hill after 4. HR rate is getting up alright, nothing special. Speed’s nothing special neither. My first speed work session in months. You’ve gotten proper slow mate. Slow but strong. The speed will come.
Some messed up shit on the last few. Falling apart a bit.
I run past a group of high school kids a few times. Their school neighbours the park, and they’ve walked over for their first break smoke. Text book group. Four girls. One guy. Shirt pulled out, tie to the side. All to light up. For an image? For an identity? For rebellion? They must think you’re such a fool running round, and round, and round. I pity them. They pity me. They’ve tasted a sigi, but have they tasted life? They’ve smelt smoke, but have they smelt opportunity?
Crazy thoughts. All flowing from one to another, connected, linked. My school days seem a life time away. Good memories flood my mind first. Matric times in Paul Roos (site) first and foremost. I wish all could have the experiences I did, and not hide at break time with embarrassment for a school uniform.
Anyhow, one 800m left, then just 4×400. A song special to Ruth and I comes on. Emotions are redirected. I need to focus. Focus on your last 800 kid. I need to focus on Ruth. She’s not having a good week.
Shit I’m glad to wrap up the 800′s. In the bag.
There are two girls with some sci-fi looking device testing plant leaves or something of the sort. I’ve run past then too many times as well. They must think I’m from a different planet. They’re from a different planet, no? How about the girl sitting in sadness on the park bench? Looks like she’s trying to study. Maybe she’s content. More content than you.I dont know. I in the red right now, and sure aint smiling neither. I hope she’s alright.
The 400′s are a big ask. The shortest intervals I’ve done for some time. Just feeling uncomfortable lifting the tempo to where it needs to be. The wind makes one and three fast and the even’s a grind. Done, dusted, thanks for coming.
Good man. In the bag. Emotions change and suddenly all seems possible again. You’re so fickle.But its done, and thats what counts. Its in the bag.
(Garmin Forerunner 305 running data)
