Ok, I wanted to blog about this after the matter, but the run up to this event has just been too big for me to ignore, so I’ll do my usual pre and post blog about said event..
BIG weekend for our family. On Sunday, the hubby will take part in his first marathon. The Soweto Marathon. A whole 42 kilometres. Of running. Sjoe. I’m guessing a bit of walking too because who can run for 42 kilometres straight? Unless you’re Bruce Fordyce or Zola Budd. And I can almost bet a pair of running shoes that even these star runners have walked at some point in their running careers.. possibly around that infamous 1.8 kilometre stretch covered in the Comrades Marathon, otherwise known as Poly Shorts. I am not an athlete, the only exercise I do involves running after, and picking up after the kids, and that is about as much exercise as this body can handle. So forgive my indolence, but 42 kilometres sounds like a road trip from Cape to Cairo to me – LONG and arduous.
So the hubby started running seriously about a year ago.. could be longer… I wasn’t really paying much attention then, as I thought his running was just an excuse to get away from the kids and I for a few hours away every day. When he started taking part in races, and dutifully shining his medal collection, I started to pay him more attention. Bad move. All of a sudden I was bombarded with email links to running websites, pages in running magazines were tagged for me to read, we had to relook our menus and our diets, and aside from mixing Oros juice for the kids, I now had to mix all sorts of supplements for the budding athlete – as if I don’t have enough to do. I must admit, I admire his discipline and his determination, I know that something is easy to do when you are passionate about it and you enjoy doing it, but it must take some discipline to get up with the birds every morning to hit the tarmac, and then come home from a hard day at the office and takkie up again. Even on weekends.. wow that blows my mind, I can barely roll out of bed to brush my teeth every day. His running has become a part of our lives, so much so that the kids know if Dad isn’t at home he is at one of the three following places: work, church or “gone to jogging” as Liam calls it. It does sometimes infringe on our lives, like if we have a date on Saturday evening, we have to make sure we are home before witching hour, because he has to get up early to run the following day. And all the pasta.. I’m going to look like a big pale lump of gnocchi soon. And I don’t need to tell you what regular exercise does for your endorphins and hormones and other chemicals floating around a body at its prime, save to say that my excuse of having a head ache is getting a bit stale.
My husband can’t understand how I can live with my lazy self. He can’t understand how I prefer Coke to water, how I prefer laying by the poolside with a cocktail, instead of doing some laps and horror of all horrors, how I can wear my tight panty that starts at my chest and ends at my knees, instead of just doing a few press ups to get rid of my baby belly. I can’t understand how running until you’re blue in the face, smelling like a dirty diaper and reading Runner’s World Magazine makes you feel all warm and gooey inside? He says I need to find something that I am passionate about, and maybe I’ll understand.. I said I have found something I am passionate about, it’s called sitting in the loo alone for five minutes without the kids or my hubby nagging me for something or the other.. and yes that does blow my hair back.
Anyway, the point is, all this training has now culminated in this weekend’s first marathon. I’ll admit I am excited for him, it’s a big deal after all. I am also a bit nervous because how do you know if your body can endure something it’s never tried before? But that explanation is void because we’d never get anywhere in life if we didn’t take the chance! And in this circumstance, a chance he has worked long and hard for.
We aren’t going to the race, the three of us will be up early, with our Weetbix (for the kids) and coffee (for me), watching from the comfort of Mom and Dad’s bed. Watching people running on TV will hold Liam and Hannah’s attention for about 0.45 seconds, so perhaps we’ll just catch the end bit when Dad crosses the finish line, because we know he will!
Run Daddy Run!