Views from our Hartenbos runs

After ten glorious days in Hartenbos, our time here has sadly almost come to an end.  But we're not headed home just yet - we're off to Cape Town for Will's racing highlight of the year: The Pick n Pay Cape Argus Cycle Tour!  (Please hold thumbs for perfect race day weather?)  

Before we leave for Cape Town, I thought I'd share some of my favourite views from our runs here in Hartenbos with you.  Between all the tide pool hunts, super tube rides and Will's quest to find the perfect seaside ice cream cone, we managed to sneak in five runs - each one of them now safely filed in the "Wow Runs" mental file.  The scenery here is just so amazing - I literally drank it in on every run!

Beautiful, beautiful South Africa.

In front of one of the camping sites that we regularly ran past.  The sign reads: "A fisherman lives here.  With the catch of his life."  Ahhh, love it.

Thumbs (toes) up.

24/7 security patrols along the seaside walking/running path.  Love.

Sunrise over the ocean.

Next stop: Cape Town!

Race Numero Uno Done and Dusted!

Our first stroller race for 2014 and my first race after Baby J's birth is in the bag, whoop!

Baby J must have overheard us talking about a race, because he made very, very sure (right through the night) that he was properly hydrated for the occasion, ha!  Needless to say that Mama didn't get much sleep - perhaps three or four hours in total?  But I was determined to make it to the starting line - it's not every day that one gets to do a race in beautiful George.

K and I left Hartenbos bright and early this morning and arrived at the Bergsig church in George (about 40 km away) with plenty of time to spare before the 8 a.m. start.  

We managed to capture a whole family of photo bombers in the background.  Now that takes talent.

It was a very small, low-key race, but a perfect one for my post-baby 'racing' comeback.  There were only a handful of runners doing the 5 km distance, and the route wound through a quiet, leafy suburb of George.  

A small field.

  

The course ended up measuring way short - 3.32 km according to my Garmin.  I overheard quite a few grumbles about this, which is understandable, but I must say that the distance actually suited me just fine: A full 5 km would have been a bit far for my fitness level at this stage.  I felt great throughout the race: No niggles or pain - yay!

The bling.

What a perfect way to start a weekend at the sea - a morning of running with my bestie in the cool, fresh ocean air!  Bliss :) .

Prepare to be jealous

So it turns out that pushing yourself on a run after 2+ months of never sleeping more than three hours in one go is not such a great idea.  I got sick.  Boo.  Who knew, right?  And the worst part?  K and Baby J caught the bug too.  Oy.  Lesson learnt.  Anyway, after plenty of TLC and just as many tears, all is well again.  So well, in fact, that we've exchanged our usual running views for this for the next week or two... 

   

Why, yes, that would be the ocean on the right-hand side.  And mountains in the background.  Ahhhhh.  Can you just smell the fresh ocean air?!

We like!!

To Greet or Not to Greet - What a Stupid Question

Something is bugging me.  Big time.  And I see it happening more and more often.  You see, us (South African?) runners always used to greet one another out on the roads.  You'd pass another runner and wave and smile, high five, thumbs up, fist pump, or whatever floats your boat.  And you'd get an equally enthusiastic hallo back.  We used to be a clan; a family - connected by our love for running.  We were cool like that.

A fist pump.  Bunny ears.  Whatever floats you boat.

Once, on a work trip to Polokwane, which is on the other side of the country and has a completely different population profile than that of my home town, I was delighted to get a sincere smile from every single runner that I passed.  I felt at home.   

But now it seems like Generaion Selfie some runners didn't quite get the message.  Because instead of smiling and waving, they're staring into oblivion and trying their best to ignore the fellow runners passing within an arm's length of them.  Sies.  Not cool, young people, not cool.

A perfect example of this is a young lady who also frequents my favourite neighbourhood running route.  The first time that she ignored my friendly "hallo", I attributed it to her not hearing me, or the sun being in her eyes or something.  But then it happened again.  And again.  And again.  I started making a game out of it - seeing just how far she would go to ignore me.  I shouted hallo.  I waved with both arms like a drowning man.  I did the Funky Chicken.  Nothing.  She was obviously convinced that the deeper she'd stare into space, the more I'd be convinced that she couldn't actually see (or hear) me.  It was both hysterical and ridiculous at the same time.  Boo.  And she's not the only one doing it.

Even the Funky Chicken is met with a blank stare.

Come on, guys and girls, it's really not that hard.  Wave and smile.  Say hallo and nod.  You know you want to.

It happened...!

You know how I've been trying to run a sub-50 minute 10 k for, ahem, years now?

Well, this morning this happened:

That would be Will's hairy arm, not mine.  Yip, he clocked a sub-50 10 k on his second ever 10 k run as an adult - amazing!  And the best part?  He did it at 10 o'clock in the morning in 30 degree heat over a hilly course.  Yikes, I'm in awe!  Okay, and a bit jealous.  Just a bit.  Goooooo Will!

Stretching those (fast) glutes...  Or something.

Looks like I've just found myself the perfect pacer to hopefully lead me to some greatness of my own!