The build up to the event was not exactly smooth… who would have imagined?
Being the stumbling staggerer that I am, I continued my diving career; I dived as gracefully as a tipsy granny into the fynbos along the Garden Route Dam trail. This was more of an uncontrollable, slow motion, sideways sway with a soft and gentle landing - quite enjoyable, actually! Then there was a stumble and ‘eat dirt’ down Bosvark and, regrettably, a repeat of the high speed arm splitting dive!
I was incredibly annoyed and gave myself a stern talking to - @#*%$. The tender, almost healed, scar of my previous diving expedition split open - definitely déjàvu! Once again, I snuck into the house, swaddled it in a bandage and donned a long sleeved shirt. The next morning, I visited my friendly doctor who laughed when I told her my secret. She gave me some special magic muti that is meant for the healing of deep tissue burns. It is wonderful! I artfully kept my arm covered and applied the muti twice a day for a few weeks. Of course, this did not stop me from my almost daily dose of mountain!
As the weeks flew by, I became rather concerned that I was not doing enough training or mileage. The big event was weeks away, and then suddenly it was days away. There was a small dose of anxiety. The longest run/stagger that my coach had planned for me was only twelve kilometres… and I had to cope with 25 kilometres of monstrous mountain trails! I became a little desperate when I found it difficult to fit my training schedule into my work schedule. It was getting darker earlier and earlier, which severely limited my time, as a loner, in the forest. Now, I hate running on pavements and roads (been there, done that). It’s boring - no interesting foliage, tinkling water or secret little pathways - and it’s not good for the old joints. However, I was so anxious about not fitting in enough training, that I could be found trudging the roads of the suburbs in the dark, sometimes during the darkest of dark - load shedding. So…my next little purchase was a decent headlamp that could light the way while I negotiated uneven pavements during the black outs.
The desperation continued…we had to make a quick trip to Betty’s Bay where we were to meet our architect. The weather was wild and the wind, in typical Betty’s Bay fashion, was a fierce gale, challenging and flattening everything in its path. My schedule said TRAIN! So, I trained. I was out there being whipped and shoved by the gale. It was rather enjoyable, actually - fighting the elements.
Added excitement to the ever approaching event, was that my boys were also to be involved in the MUT: Devin had entered the 42 kilometre race, his girlfriend was doing the ten kilometre race, while Jared was one of the official photographers for the 100 kilometre event and the 100 miler. They arrived a couple of days before the event. Alas! A few days before they arrived, Devin, in his wisdom , had moved a very heavy desk at an awkward angle and could hardly move. His back was stuffed! My friendly physio worked his magic on him and did give him some relief. However, it was too risky to go gallivanting in the mountains, far away from help, with a dodgy back. This was a disappointment for all.
Devin accompanied me to the registration point at Witfontein. It was a quagmire! The recent rainfall had turned George into mush - very squishy mush. I set all my gear out on the table to be checked and I passed the test! The lovely lady then zapped a ribbon bangle thingy around my wrist - I was tagged and approved!
I was thrilled to see the parents of an ex-student from Parklands College, Cape Town. I wished Gary luck for the 100 miler and then we splashed and slipped our way out of there.
The excitement started building as we sorted out gear and packed our goodies into hydration vests. I must admit that I was pretty calm - no butterflies at all.
We were all up at the crack of dawn - well, before that, actually! Jared and all his gear left before us as he had to meet his ‘driver’, the race organiser’s father-in-law, who had a brute of a vehicle that could negotiate the harsh terrain where Jared had to be dropped off and picked up periodically. I hitched a lift with Devin and his girlfriend. It was chilly and everyone was hopping around trying to keep warm while they waited for the bus to take us up to the top of the Outeniqua Pass to the starting point at Sputnik. Yes, Sputnik! I must admit that it does look as though some alien spaceship has landed there.
Travelling in the bus was quite a calming experience. The sun was just touching the tips of the peaks, creating a golden glow that was symbolic of the special day ahead, and the greens of the gently swaying fynbos were intense. I hopped off the bus, checked my equipment - hydration pack with two soft flasks, pockets bulging with energy bars, a jiffy bag with butter and bovril sandwiches, the compulsory space blanket, bandage, rain jacket etc. I slipped into my gear, adjusted it, flicked my trail poles and trotted up to the start where I activated my tracker. THIS WAS IT!
Next time…the journey!
TIP:
No matter how many times you fall down, get up and keep going!
Mountain Mom
The Staggerer
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