So.. running.. not my thing, I said. Smoking your socks if you think I'm joining in on that, I said.
And here I am, mid-forties, twice a week scrounging around for good socks and breathable clothing, to hit the road.
"Who are you and what have you done with my sister?" my sister asked me. Indeed, I'm wondering that myself, what happened exactly?
I've heard that one is, apparently, more physiologically suited for endurance exercise in one's middle years, which I'm certainly seeing in myself. Not a sprinter by any means, but after 4 months of fairly regular weekly running exercises, I'm comfortable with someone suggesting a 10km run. I hated even doing 5kms when I was in my twenties after training for longer, so way to go grandma!
It all started end of January (it's now beginning of May). Summertime in Johannesburg, the suburb of Buccleuch running club started up, all ages and levels of fitness welcome. My neighbour Cameron was keen, and I thought I'd go along, as a walker, to support the community, privately thinking I'd slope off quietly later and disappear when things got too rough.
Cameron and I arrived at the designated meeting spot, me in denim shorts, for a bit of a social walk. There were about 20 people, ranging from the hardcore to the somewhat geriatric (me). A pair of young streamlined-slim Indian siblings appeared to be in charge and the chief friendly motivators. We were shown how to stretch before a run, the route options discussed, as we had the choice of a 3, 4 and 5km, road running etiquette explained, such as keeping to the right and single file so as not to piss off drivers - and then we were off.
The group quickly thinned out, the professionals streaked ahead, the joggers in the middle and us, the evening amblers, introducing ourselves, at the rear. We got to the first intersection and then Cameron suddenly broke into a run, as did several others in my crowd, and I looked around me to find, disconcertingly, that I and my new companion were alone and the last.
People are rather like herd animals I think, it's not the best feeling to be left behind, especially when you've seen what lurks in some of Buccleuch's streets. And that's what got me going. "Er.. I think we should move faster" I suggested to my unwitting running partner.
And so it began, my journey of many kilometers, with a simple fear of abadonment. Not too competently, there was more walking than running involved but I broke a sweat, decided I needed better clothes, finished before Cameron at least, who slowed to a stroll when he got deeply involved in conversation with a random stranger. 3km done at a blisteringly slow pace, at the end there was congratulations, another stretch and free cool drink, then see you on Saturday... ?
I hadn't thought about it. It sounded too soon! My first instinct was to decline, then I thought gosh, I'd better, everyone else is going to be fitter.
I was back on Saturday. In running clothes. And I didn't fall behind again.
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Good for you! My knee is shot from an unrelated injury. Wish I could still run.