I’m writing to you from beautiful Cape Town, with a stunning view of the full moon over the ocean right from my bed – so blessed! I’m here on business for a few days, so while being here without Will and Baby Girl is so hard, I’m trying to rest (in between working!) and make the most of all the beauty surrounding me.
Cape Town is, of course, a mecca for running and all things outdoors, but since I’m flying solo and am unsure about the safety of the neighbourhood, I was thrilled to find a torture tool of note located right next to my accommodation. The Stairs. I’m staying at a guesthouse that can only be reached via a gazillion-and-one stairs. And I’m not even exaggerating – it literally looks like a stairway to heaven.
So yesterday morning bright and early I got up and tackled The Stairs, cockily thinking that I’d easily be able to run to the top of the stairway without taking a break. WRONG. So wrong. Each and every single time I’d get as far as the halfway mark and then the wheels would just come off. All communication between my legs and my brain would cease and I’d freeze. Until I’d taken a break and caught my breath, and only then my body would allow me to tackle the second half. I did that five times and then called it a day. Ouch.
Today I can, of course, barely move. It hurts so good. Hopefully my second attempt will be easier...?