Apologies for missing the plot!

And so Jog around the Blog nearly died a quiet death due to other commitments, lack of encouragement, but most of all losing sight of the goal. Which brings me to the question: why are we doing this? For whom? And what do we hope to achieve?

Allow me therefore to thank you for not responding to most of our previous attempts and entries, because it made me realize that we were doing something wrong. And maybe we are still not on the right track, but this is the one we're sticking to! :)

Therefore, back to our original plan with this blog before we derailed: - we want to commit to walk, run, trot, jog or crawl around a block once a week (for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, for so long as we both shall live ;-) ), and we're hoping to inspire others to join us in this quest. To commit in public (just to keep you honest ;-)) to at least one tiny time slot out of your week; find a place, day and time, where you can have some alone time, or meet up with some friends or family and go for a short walk or run, around the block, or up and down a street - whatever rocks your boat. Say for instance, Monday nights, 18:00 at the local pub, every week. Call it your runners anonymous support meeting. Call it a book club if you like, but just commit to this one little session of physical activity. And when you find you lack motivation, or you're just not in the mood, we really hope Jog around the Blog can become the place to share your ups and downs.

Like Paul Dudley White said: "A vigorous five-mile walk will do more good for an unhappy but otherwise healthy adult than all the medicine and psychology in the world." 

So how about it? Anybody up for the challenge? And please tell us about your spot(s), time slot(s) and whether your going alone, or in a group. And of course keep us posted about how it goes!

The magical Marathon

The marathon - most fabled of all running events.

As most of you will know, the marathon, a long distance running event of 42.195 kilometers, was instituted to commemorate the fabled and heroic run of the Greek soldier Pheidippides, a messenger from the Battle of Marathon (hence the name) to Athens.

The story goes that brave Pheidippides ran the entire distance without stopping, exclaiming 'We have won!' when he finally reached his destination, and then promptly collapsed and died.

Thinking about it now, a couple of things could've contributed to his fate. He may have been over- or undertrained. If it was a case of overtraining, he obviously didn't taper enough before the big run. Did he do any quality sessions, tempo runs or hill training as part of his build-up? One also can't help wondering whether he did enough carbo-loading in the days leading up to the run. What was his hydration programme like - did he perhaps suffer from dehydration in the heat? Or did he make the mistake many runners make, of actually overhydrating during the run - something that some experts say may be even more dangerous to your health. Not having the luxury of the latest Polar heart-rate monitor, another problem may have been that he pushed too close to maximum heart rate for too long. Or who knows, running alone without any company, without even a trusty ipod to keep him entertained, he may have simply died of boredom - a marathon is a long way to be stuck with only your own thoughts...

One thing is for sure - it being the first marathon and all, he obviously did not have what us runners like to refer to as our "running memory". Take for instance the recent Mountain to Surf marathon that Wouna and I did with our good old running buddy Willie. Over the past decade or so, Willie has run loads of marathons, and many ultras including quite a few Comrades marathons. So, despite not getting around to much training, and having a bout of the flu also keeping him off the road, Willie finished the marathon, fairly comfortably. He did it on a total training distance of less than the length of a marathon. And he didn't even collapse or die!

Anyway, the point I actually want to get to is that the marathon really is a magical thing - no matter how many you've done, each marathon conquered remains a special occasion. Well worthy of a good bottle of bubbly. Or two...

During our running days in South Africa, we somehow never got around to doing as many marathons as we would've liked. There was always some excuse of being too busy, or not being ready, or some old lame excuse. Now that we've moved to New Zealand, we realise how many amazing SA marathons, big and small, we missed. Hopefully we can plan our future SA visits to coincide with some of the iconic events we still want to do.

On the flipside, as newbies on the New Zealand running scene, we are positively giddy with excitement about all the running events in general, and marathons in particular, that we want to do on the twin isles. Both on- and off-road. Looking at our little personal wish-list of events to still do this year, you'd swear we want to do all the Kiwi marathons in one year. We've done the Mountain to Surf, and we're already entered for two epic off-road marathons - the Dual, less than two weeks away, and then the T42 a couple of weeks later.

And in between there's still the iconic Rotorua marathon (a must-do event, and one of the biggest marathons in New Zealand) and not much further in the future there's the Wellington marathon, another very nice looking event. And then there's the Christchurch marathon (which may unfortunately be cancelled this year due to the recent earthquake disaster), the hugely popular Auckland marathon, the Dunedin Marathon, the West Coaster, the Wairarapa Country marathon and even the Great Barrier Island marathon!

Wonder what poor old Pheidippides would've thought about all that!?

Talking about our Greek friend, I should mention that the story of him running himself to death over the course of just over 42km is just one version of the story. And its not the one that paints him in the most impressive light.

According to another legend from the Greek historian Herodotus, Pheidippides' heroic run was actually from Athens to Sparta during the Greco-Persian wars, to ask for help, and then back again - a distance of more than 240 kilometers each way.

And according to this legend he didn't even collapse and die after this super-ultra marathon. Now THAT's impressive.

But personally I'm glad the 42km Marathon-to-Athens legend is the one that stuck in the popular conscience. Because otherwise we may never have had the privilege of experiencing the grueling joy of conquering our own magical marathons.

A miss is as good as a mile!

In my humble opinion, this also applies to running events. If you have to miss a run due to some or other ailment, the opportunity would have passed and you would never ever forget that moment when you had to make the regrettable decision.

Having recently read about friend Ken's decision not to run a marathon due to being struck down by the flu, I couldn't help thinking about the times I had to quit/bail races due to some or other ailment. It is the worst thing possible and I can only sympathize with Ken for not even being able to start. The worst part is that you never forget those events - they end up forever haunting you as "unfinished business".

Years ago I was running my second Tough One 32km race in Johannesburg when, at the 27km mark, I suddenly felt like I was going to die there and then - my body felt like lead and I couldn't move an inch further. I had to lie down just to keep from passing out, while Gerry finished the run, fetched the car and picked me up next to the road where I was lying. I had to bail. On hindsight, I could have just rested a while until things got better (which it did, eventually) and walked the 5kms to the finish. But at the time, feeling like death and thinking there was a cut-off that we were going to miss (not thinking straight or asking anybody), I decided to just give up. Besides, while I was laying next to the road, I was terrified by not having the slightest idea what was happening to me, so I didn't dare carry on.

This was also a time when I firmly believed that the Coke supplied at races was making me nauseas and was therefore only drinking water at the refreshment stops.

As it turned out, after having blood tests done, I was diagnosed as Type 2 diabetic, so not taking the Coke to get my sugar levels up was an absolute disaster. It came as a complete surprise to me (and my doctor!) since no one in my family was diabetic and I wasn't obese, as is normally the case. The doctor even told me beforehand that he would test my insulin and sugar levels, but it was unlikely to be the culprit because I was too skinny. The tests unfortunately confirmed the dreaded dysfunctional pancreas and sugar fluctuation problem. From the doctor, I went to a dietician who explained the whole glucose-process and gave me very helpful tips on still being active (in fact, she reiterated the importance of exercise!), eating correctly and maintaining a good 'normal' life.

But to this day I can't forget that race, everything what went through my head, bailing, giving up … the emotional trauma of not being able to complete a race.

Not being able to start, as was the case with Ken, is another story, but the emotional baggage afterwards is more or less the same. For me at least. At another occasion, I had some serious ITB problems, and we had to abandon our plans to run the 50km Om-die-Dam Ultra, scaling down to the 21km little brother of the same event. A penalty fee applied, which wasn't the worst, but the T-shirt also looked different, somehow inferior. And then there was the medal, quietly reiterating that you did 'just 21kms', and not the 'real thing'. Everything adds up to remind you that you hadn't accomplished what you set you mind to. The disappointment somehow never subsides.

And then I also still have unfinished business with the 100km Amatola trail run … As Arnie the Terminator said, "I'll be back!".

I'm sure everyone has one or two or maybe more of these "unfinished business" events. They haunt you. Forever. Perhaps in the case of running, the saying should be "A miss is much worse than a mile"!

Remember that first time?

There's something very special about first-time events. And I don't mean doing something for the first time, like your first kiss, or your first marathon - that's a subject for another day... I'm referring to "the inaugural" experience - being there the first time a running event is staged.

Whenever you do an event for the first time, it is special. However, if its a race that's been staged umpteen times before, the organisers might treat it in a slightly less special way. With a brand new, inaugural race everyone involved is excited and a little stressed, and more often than not the organisers will go the extra mile to make the day stand out just that little bit more.

What's more, when you're there at the very first race, and it turns out to be a continually great event, you can always, years down the line, be that old grey runner who gets welcomed at the finish as the one who's done every edition of the race since its inception.

What got me thinking about this was the Frontrunner Half Marathon that we did in New Plymouth a week ago. The race, staged together with the Wells Half-Ironman was a brand new sporting event on the NZ calendar. Nothing really exciting happened, but it was enough of a reason to at least make sure that we bought the (very nice) race T-shirts.

We've been lucky enough to experience a number of these events. Our very first marathon happened to also be the inaugural running of the Waterfall Mall marathon near Rustenburg. The special touch for the day was having a bunch of celebrities in the field - Comrades legend Bruce Fordyce, TV personality David Vlok, Gladiators lass Fire (or was it Ice?)... And they ran with us back-of-the-packers, sharing stories and jokes. I'm sure this helped the hours pass much quicker, and before we knew it our first marathon was behind us.

When trail running started gaining prominence in the 2000's in South Africa, we were also privileged to participate in the first Montrail Gauteng Winter Trail Series, a six-week series of 8-12km trail runs intended to introduce runners to the sport. The organisers managed to obtain huge sponsorships for the series, and we were treated to amazing spot prizes including buffs, technical clothing, shoes etc at each race. So being there for the inaugural event can have other fringe benefits as well!

Of course first-time events may also be prone to a couple of small (or not so small) hick-ups. In the case of the Frontrunner Half, they got the distance way wrong, and we ended up running an out and back course where the turnaround came about 700m too soon. It did make for a very impressive finishing time, though... :)

When we did the Cape Odyssey in 2008, it was the second running of the event. Despite the fact that it was supposedly "bigger and better" than the first, and despite it being special in its own right since it ended up being the last time the event was staged, I couldn't help feeling a touch of regret for not being there the year before as well. I'm sure the novelty of being part of the "Inaugural Cape Odyssey 5-day Trail Run" must've been very very special.

Of course the thing with an inaugural race is that it only ever happens once. If you missed it, you missed it. Never again. There are many wonderful running events that I still want to do, but where I've already missed Race Number One. So what do you do then? The best alternative, I'd say, is to try making sure that you're there when a special edition of the race gets run... With that in mind, here's a small dream list that I wouldn't mind completing (these are just a few - there's many more... yet another topic for another day):

• The 10th Kilimanjaro Marathon in 2012
• The 20th Augrabies Extreme Marathon in 2019
• The 30th Vienna Marathon in 2013
• The 40th Western States 100 Miler Endurance Run in 2016
• The 50th New York Marathon in 2019
• And even the 100th Comrades Marathon in 2024

How's that for a challenge! Guess the only outstanding piece of the puzzle is my winning Lotto ticket...!

Running up that hill

When Wouna and I started running, we stayed in a hilly neighbourhood. No matter which direction you ran, you'd hit a hill within about a kilometer. Even our little 4km daily loop automatically doubled as a hill-session. One hill on our daily run was particularly challenging. When we first started running it felt totally insurmountable, and we were in awe of any runner we saw who actually ran over the hill. It ended up taking us a couple of months of running before the big day came where we were finally able to run all the way over it. We felt like we had finally joined some elite club of super-runners!

Even after this realisation that it was actually possible to top the hill without walking, it remained an important indicator of ability - each time we had a bit of a lapse in our running, or a layoff due to injury, the distance we could run up that hill before slowing to a walk, became a measure of our progress.

In addition to living in a hilly neighbourhood, we were also members of a running club whose weekly time trial route was famously, perhaps notoriously, hilly. Anyone who ever ran the CSIR race had a healthy respect for those hills.

As a result of this excessive hill-exposure, we became quite adept at hill running. We may not have been the fastest, but we were able to keep running up hills after many runners around us already had to gear back to walking pace.

And then we moved...

Our new hometown still had its hills, but the layout of the town allowed us a lot more freedom in selecting running routes, so it became possible to cover our daily running distance over much less hilly terrain. We still did some hilly runs now and then, but why torture yourself with hills every day if you don't have to, right? And so, slowly but surely, our hill-running 'super-powers' diminished.

And then we moved again...

This time we moved to a new country, New Zealand, renowned for being anything but flat. However, as fate would have it, the town we moved to proved to be one of the flatter areas around. Its not that we have no hills, on the contrary, but essentially our new hometown offers two types of running - flat as a pancake, or hilly as hell. And with our hill-powers already in a serious decline, its no surprise that we very much favour the flatlands. Our favourite of all these flat courses is a lovely 8km walkway next to the river - quiet, scenic, and 100% FLAT.

So you can imagine how much hill running we get up to these days!

As a result, even moderate hills have become challenging. Even tiny hills have us slowing down to almost walking pace, flailing our arms and panting dangerously. We feel every hill - this past weekend we did a half marathon that was staged on a coastal walkway that we expected to be seriously flat, but in fact had a few little surprise hills, proving quite tough.

The moral of the story? You can't run hills if you don't run hills...

So we've decided to start putting new effort into our hill-running. We're going to start actively looking for more hilly roads again, and we will run according to two pieces of wisdom we learned from fellow runners.

Words of wisdom 1: You never walk over the crest of a hill. Our buddy Ken H taught us this one. No matter how tough a hill is, and even if you walk 90% of the hill, once you get near the top you HAVE to start running. You gotta show that hill that it's not getting the better of you... you have to cross it as a RUNNER. Amazingly, it works, even if its just mental. (Or perhaps we are just mental!)

Words of wisdom 2: Heads down, swing your arms, and BYT VAS. This comes courtesy of South African ultra-distance legend Bruce Fordyce, whom we had the honour of running with during our very first marathon. (That sounds impressive - we ran with Bruce, the King of the Comrades - we must've been flying! But sadly no, we weren't running up front with the elites, Bruce was having a social run with some buddies at the back of the pack...) Anyway, we were all struggling up a nasty hill, when he shared these words of wisdom. And it really is as simple as that - three little actions. First, heads down - don't look at how long the hill goes on, just do your best where you are, and before you know it, the hill is behind you. Second, swing your arms - half the battle is won if you allow the rest of your body to help your poor legs in their time of need. Strong upper body strength is one of the big factors differentiating good athletes from the average Joes. And third, 'byt vas' - an Afrikaans phrase that basically means to 'be stoic; bite down and hold on'. In essence, it refers to perseverance, endurance, determination and persistence. And if you intend showing that hill who's boss, 'vasbyt' is the only way. The difference between the good runner and the great runner often has more to do with grit and perseverance than with raw talent.

So we will go forth - we will look for hills, and we will tackle them with heads down and arms swinging wildly, we will 'byt vas', and we will crest them at running pace.

Hit that perfect beat!

Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride

Nobody's gonna slow me down

Oh no, I got to keep on movin'

Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride
I'm running and I won't touch ground
Oh no, I got to keep on movin'

Miniature music players have taken over. The ipod, and a mass of ipod-like devices, have become a ubiquitous part of running culture - clothing manufacturers are even styling running clothes so that your ultra-hip little music player fits nicely into some funky 'i-pocket'. (Take a chance, take a chance, take-a take-a chance-chance!)

As a result, running with music has never been more popular, and runners the world over have their personal customised playlists to keep them trotting along. (Beat boy! Beat boy! hit that perfect beat, boy!) When I started running, luxuries like ipods were still the subject of science fiction movies, so I had to amuse myself with playing my favourite songs in my mind as I ran along. And to this day, I still very much prefer my 'virtual ipod' to the real thing - for starters I have a more or less infinite selection of tunes to choose from, from early childhood memories through to my latest fave. And secondly I'm less cut off from reality, so at least I'm somewhat aware of approaching cars, angry dogs etc. And since Wouna and I always run together, going the earphone route is just plain bad manners. (It's worse than typing SMS's on a coffee date.)

However, getting back to the point: music is an integral part of running, whether you do the ipod thing, recall songs in your mind, or even go the exhibitionist route and sing heartily (in-between huffs and puffs) as you charge up the hill. (You can go your own way... go your own way!) And obviously we all have different tunes and styles of music that rev our motors. My good friend Niel would happily run to the end of the earth on a solid playlist of 80's gold - Erasure, Eurythmics, Alphaville, Duran Duran... (Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree?) And old Andy, always quite a sight with his ponytail and tie-dye bandana, is never happier than when the endorphins kicks in to a soundtrack of Jimi Hendrix or Janis Joplin. (Summertime... And the living is easy...) I know a couple of people who believe nothing gives you a boost like a good dose of heavy metal (I'm on a highway to hell!), while bland, unobtrusive elevator music is just the thing others need to get them in the zone.

My personal taste in music runs pretty wide, and I like to believe that my virtual playlist won't be found on many ipods around town. I can think of nothing better than some laid back 70s rock like Little Feat's Dixie Chicken to get me relaxed early on in a race, while I have a tendency to call on some old-timey bluegrass (how about some Flatt & Scruggs, anyone?) if I need a bit of a boost to pick up the pace. And surely songs like The Avett Brothers' Kick Drum Heart and The Clash's Brand New Cadillac were written specifically to lift me up when I have to dig deep on a marathon somewhere between the 32km and 35km marks. When I'm in the groove, just jogging along happily, songs seem to wander into my mind from all over - anything from Walken by Wilco to Trigger Cut by Pavement to Luckiest Guy On The Lower East Side by Magnetic Fields to some old blues standard like John Lee Hooker's Boom Boom or Buddy Guy's version of Sweet Home Chicago.

And even on days that I really don't feel like running, one quick listen to James Brown getting all sweaty on I Feel Good, or Jerry Lee Lewis bangin' out Whole Lotta Shakin' Going On is usually enough to get me into my running shoes and out the door.

Whatever the situation, there's always a song that seems to fit perfectly - I cannot imagine the world without it. And while I'm running and flicking through my mind-pod, something is sure to pop up that even suits the rhythm of my stride...

I'm curious - are you like me, with a soundtrack (real or virtual) accompanying every moment of your life, or do you prefer it peaceful and quiet. And if you do enjoy some tunes on the run, which are the big ones that you keep coming back to? Any specific tunes that you've discovered that give you that extra oomph? Please do share - I can always do with some new additions to my playlist!

Born to run

I've never considered myself the Bruce Springsteen of running - I wasn't Born to Run.

In fact, the first time Wouna and I gave in to a nagging runner friend and joined her for a 5km fun run I was already past 30. And little kids of between 3 and 5 ran the shit out of me.

Maybe it was the shock of realising we weren't able to running continuously for more than 2km, or the fact that kids that scarcely reached my knees easily ran away from us, but from that day we did our best to get better at the running game. Running together, we persevered, eventually managing our first 10km race, then a 21, then a 32, and then the wheels came off - the classic story of injury from over-use. We rested, cut back, tried again, this time getting all the way to completing a marathon at a pretty decent 6min/km pace. The sky was the limit, so we did more marathons, and quickly progressed to our first ultra - the scenic Two Oceans marathon in Cape Town. After this came injury again, followed by cut-back and rest, slow build up, eventually another marathon, and so forth, until now, about 10 years later, I would contend that we've spent enough of the past decade on the road (or on the trail) to be able to refer to ourselves as runners.

Yet, even now, running is still not a non-negotiable activity in my daily life. I don't get up at 5:00 every day, rain or shine, and hit the road for my daily 8km running fix. In fact, I still have to work hard every day to convince myself that I should hit the road, that I'll feel better after the run (which I do, without exception, but still...). And I don't even want to talk about when the weather's bad, or if I had a glass too much wine the previous night! I still have huge gaps every so often in my running log, where I drop out completely and go without running for months.

I'm curious what it would take to get me to that point where running is no longer an option, but a compulsion. What is the drug I need to become a real can't-go-without-it-for-a-single-day running addict?

Could it be routine? Being self-employed, with no fixed daily routine, means I have to make a conscious decision that it's "time to run". If your day is rigidly structured, and you know 5:00 - 5:45 is your running slot, the battle must be halfway won. On the other hand, the luxury of a flexible schedule should have the advantage that, if its raining at 8:00, you can always still go running at 15:00. So lack of routine can't be an excuse.

Could it be motivation? I'm not chasing some mythical sub-40 minute 10km race. And I'm not seriously trying to lose weight (although that won't be a bad thing). Many committed runners I know have stories to tell as to why they run - loss of a partner, running for a cause, overcoming a (different) addiction, a serious health scare... I, on the other hand, pretty much run because I like it, and (to be honest) to make sure that I'm never beaten by a 3-year old again.

Basically, when I think about what drives me to run, its quite simply the need to know that I can do it. To know that, if your car breaks down 10kms from home, you're not completely screwed - you can actually make it home. To know that, if a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity comes along to participate in some physical challenge (be it a scenic trail run, or a chance to climb a mountain, or to walk 800km because, over a bottle of wine, you thought it was a cool idea...) you can do it, because you're a runner, and you know that, in your own special way, you are capable of amazing achievements.

As the running joke goes - Chuck Norris never ran a marathon. That is why I run. It may not get me out on the road every day, but it ensures that, despite bad days and lay-offs, in my head I will always be a runner.

Because just maybe... tramps like us, baby we were born to run.