No amount of explanation, or words strung together - however many expletives are used, will EVER be able to sufficiently describe the horror of last night's little jogging jaunt or the hellish pain wretchedly wrapping its foul tentacles around every bone, muscle and organ in my broken body.
In my infinite wisdom I came to the rather disastrous conclusion that, since I am doing a fund raising run of 6km in less than 3 weeks, I had better get into some semblance of running form, lest I collapse 5 and a half km from the finish line / pub. Whilst the video would probably go viral in a matter of seconds, the idea is to complete the run as several of the pledges are per km run.
So I contact Commander Cramp and join him on his daily jog-up-and-down-Table-Mountain slash walk-the-dog slash take-in-the-splendid-view. I am fairly certain that were we allowed to update our relationship status on FaceBoobs to something involving inanimate objects, I would claim to be in a committed relationship with my Mountain. I love that hunk of rock so much, I get homesick when I visit my parents 25km away. Not so much anymore. She almost killed me yesterday.
It all started out very promising. Got to the parking lot of Deer Park and was informed cheerfully that stretching wasn't really necessary as we were going to "take it nice 'n' easy". Kak!
I was doing reasonably well for the first bit, prancing my way up the slight incline and commenting on how well I was doing. My first misgivings started to make themselves evident when the chatting became suddenly very one sided and I had to concentrate on the simple act of breathing. But, manfully, I prevailed and refused to give up. Thankfully my body very soon overpowered my mind and mid sentence Commander Cramp had to turn around to see me hunched over and looking for a lung some distance back. Walking a little distance to regain my bearings and catch some rather erratic breath, we once again commenced the torture. Almost made it to the point where I was politely informed "Oh this is the part where I usually walk". Absolute horror, confusion and a fixed facial contortion greeted the cheerful smiling ringleader of the Circus Of Death, but he made me carry on anyway. I looked up and asked if we were going to use fixed ropes or wait to be airlifted...
I walked. Up. I never thought I'd literally almost vomit from walking, but on eventually reaching the summit of our mild afternoon saunter, I couldn't breath or see out of my left eye. Wonderful view be damned! I want the Spear Of Destiny our of my torso please...
This was halfway. I am pleased to announce that the descent was far more palatable, I only had to stop once as we galloped down the winding way concentrating with all my might on not nosediving like a drunk diva or turning my ankle on the rocky road. Momentum and the promise of a cold beer and eventual recovery got me there, barely.
Today I do a couple of laps around the football field before I start playing. Probably in my car...
Would it be cheating if I strapped on some rollerblades on the day and grabbed onto the marshall bike?
Watch this space.
NGDG: "Gay marriage? Fine. But don't come around in 2 years asking for a gay divorce."
Spread The Love. Mostly On Me. And By Love I Mean Deep Heat.