mindgobble

“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” – Andre Gide

Children from the surrounding Villages cheering us on! 

My Dad had been talking about going away on a “family holiday” to Isandlwana for quite some time. He wanted to go down to Zululand to do a 15km Trail Run/ Walk. 

I very reluctantly agreed to go with, mostly because we don’t manage to “get away” as a family too often. I figured that it would be a tough mission though the land of the cows, but how bad could it be? My Dad happens to be an exercise junkie who has run his entire life, and I happen to avoid exercise at any cost!

After agreeing to this suicide mission, I promptly forgot all about it until the week of the “big walk”. So naturally I had not attempted any sort of training (except for a 6km walk the week after agreeing to go). I realised the day before we were due to leave that this was entirely stupid of me, and I was sure to pay for my rash decision and complete laziness. We were up early that Friday morning and we all piled into the car half asleep to embark on our 4 hour journey to Rorkes Drift. I had my trusty book with me, so it felt a lot more like a 2 hour journey to me (though I strongly suspect that the time flew because I was dreading our arrival!)

The upside to all of this was that my Dad had booked us into a hotel which was a very exciting prospect for me because we would normally be the ones camping! The place turned out to be really beautiful, and the winter had completely left by the time we got there. It felt like 35 degrees outside, and I quickly went to hide away in the air conditioned room to read some more.

We emerged early that evening to go to dinner where we met some of my Dads old friends who had also arrived to do the trail run. We all had dinner and I got to hear some awesome stories about the Otter Trail. It turns out that the new people also happened to be avid hikers and enjoyed all sorts of adventurous things. After all the talk of hiking and walking barefoot, I felt much better about the race the next day and I was determined not to mess around!

Saturday (AKA Race Day)

I had my short shorts on, and my trusty Adidas (R100) “takkies” on! Our hotel was the finish line for the race, so we all piled into the Navara and drove up to the Isandlwana Battlefields which was to be the start of the race. Next up we had a pep talk from the organiser, who gave us a rough idea of which landmarks to look out for (so we wouldn’t get lost). There were very clear instructions about “the big tree”, and “the mountain behind the hotel”. By this stage I was fairly pumped about the whole thing, and I had grand intentions of getting out there and taking names!

We were literally “fired off” by the Dundee Die Hards who had come out in their British soldier uniforms for the occasion. The main group all shot off at a run, while I started off at a brisk walk hoping to pace myself. The first section was a relatively steep decline from the top of the Battlefields over rocks and amongst aloes. I quickly decided that my parents were walking too slowly for me, and I was adamant that I wouldn’t be coming last. I picked up the pace and very soon caught up to some of the initial “runners” who had begun to walk. I felt very triumphant when I passed them and set my sights on the next group. When the ground flattened out a bit I even had a hearty attempt at a run. 

As I crossed through a fence at one point, I noticed a few people had gone past the fence and were headed up a mountain! I knew they had gone the wrong way, but there was little that I could do about it by that point. Eventually I also ended up at a “fork in the path”, and there was no indication on which way to go. I went left and then stuck with two men and boy just in case I was going the wrong way. I was not getting lost in the middle of Zululand by myself! 

It turned out that we did in fact go the wrong way, but we followed the river and soon found ourselves at the finish! I was very excited about this, and we had only ended up walking one extra kilometer. I was not last and soon discovered that almost everybody had gotten lost along the way. My muscles were a killer by the end of the race, but it was so very worth it! I loved every minute (“,)

After a hot shower and a few cold Savanna’s (there is just nothing better than beer after a hard workout), I climbed into bed a huge sense of self accomplishment! 

And since then, I have made the conscious decision to lead a more active and adventurous lifestyle. I have started a bucket list, and the first thing on it is the Otter Trail.

Watch this space…..