Category Archives: My Fears

Not fast enough. Not strong enough. Not good enough – The voice said.

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“Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants you to quit.” – @Runningquotes

As much as I’d like to think that the physical training I have done in the past few weeks has been enough, running a race on Saturday reminded me that the mental training is far from good enough to get me through a half marathon. In fact, for most of Saturday’s race, that little voice in my head made that 10km race a very long and difficult run.

The race was the annual Liqui-Fruit 10/21.1km race in Irene where over 5 000 runners make their way through the Agricultural grounds. It is definitely one of my favorite races. Not only do you get a very colorful, bright t-shirt, but the race winds its way past the cows and sheep. I love cows. For me, it signaled my first official race counting down to the Two Oceans 2012 half marathon – a race I had entered on Wednesday.

Before I set off, I had calculated in my mind that I wanted to do a time of 1:18. seeing as though I had improved on my time quite dramatically since 2008. (1:18 – 2010, 1:26 – 2009, 1:30 – 2008) The field was massive and as the gun went off, it took almost 10 minutes to get through the first 1km. For those that know the route, as you get to the 2km mark and look ahead, you see a string of runners ahead of you in the distance and you realize just how many people are running the race, as well as how fast the front runners are. I was doing quite well and was at some stages running under the 8km/min mark.

Mentally, I have to do 7kms in under an hour. This is important as it marks the fact that if I can do that, I will manage to make cut off time of 3 hours for a half marathon. So as I past the 7km mark in 57mins, I was smiling.

The last 3kms of the race are quite hilly. This is where I started to struggle and where that voice of self doubt reared its ugly head. No matter how hard I tried, I kept wondering just how I would be able to finish a half marathon when my legs felt so tired after 7kms. The 21.1km runners had started to pass me by now on their way to the finish, and as I cheered them on as they passed me, I kept wondering how it was possible that they were doing double the distance than I was, and in half the time. Some of the super fit Walk/Run For Life ladies also started to pass me. You see, on the uphills, they are quite strong. *damn Walkers!*

I was never really good at Maths in school. But it’s funny how I am able to work out, to the second, how long it would take me to do 3kms and at what pace and whether or not I would be finished in under 80 mins. I started to get slower and slower.

Thoughts of Two Oceans were flooding my head and I started to remember the stress of it all. Standing at 4am at the start line, the congestion of the first km, the uphill of Southern Cross, the irritating Old Mutual pom pom girls near University Drive. But most of all, the thought that I was not yet strong enough to tackle long distances.

I don’t run well under stress. That little voice became too much for me and on the last km, I walked… I thought, stuff it. I’m not going to make 80mins. I am therefore not running in under 8mins/km. I am a failure.

My finishing time: 1:82. I was very disappointed.

That little voice in my head is so powerful sometimes. And the worst part is that I allow it to own me… Not only with my running, but also with my self-confidence in general.

Lately, having to make some big decisions in my career and all I can think of is that I am not good enough. I keep doubting my abilities. I keep making excuses. I find I am stressing myself out about making decisions because I am too scared that I will fail.

There are 142 days left until Two Oceans. 142 days left to train not only my body, but especially my mind into believing I can do it.

Because I know I can…(I think).

It’s taken me 12 years to realise that I am never going to get better

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Okay…here goes. *breathe*

Last week I dropped my cup of tea on my lap in front of a good friend and colleague. Instead of being honest to someone I trust and appreciate as a friend in my life, I lied and called myself a “stupid klutz”.

I should have explained to her that my hand was too stiff and in pain to hold my cup properly. I should have told her the truth.  But instead, I brushed it off and carried on. Since then, the pain has migrated from my hands, to my shoulder and now to my hip. It’s been like this since last year July.

The pain is so intense that it has left me crying my eyes out at night, unable to sleep. I use an infra-red massager to ease the pain. I’ve had to ask someone to give me a lift home from work on two occasions because I cannot open my hand to hold the steering wheel to drive home. KK has had to undress me some days because I am unable to lift my arms. I don’t know what to eat anymore because my diet is so restricted, yet I continue to put on weight due to the cortisone I am taking.

I am a fake. I am a liar. I am absolutely miserable.

I am tired of hiding something that I realise will never go away.

12 years ago, I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis. Just when I had managed to gain control over the disease in my body, last year, the inflammation spread causing me to develop Enteropathic Arthritis affecting my joints and causing me crippling pain which migrates throughout my body.   

I don’t tell people I have an incurable illness. Firstly, most people will not understand exactly what I have. Secondly, unlike other illnesses, my symptoms are not something people want to hear about: bleeding ulcers, bloating, diarrhoea, crippling arthritis, pain…

I never see any glamorous running races to raise money for the Ulcerative Colitis or Enteropathic Arthritis sufferers. We don’t get a bright coloured ribbon to wear. It’s a lonely disease.

So I don’t talk about it. Instead, I hide it. I make as if it doesn’t exist. I hate it. I hate it more than you can imagine.

But I can’t anymore. I am tired of hiding it. I’m tired of carrying around this secret, this burden.

 I’ve come to realise that if I need help and support, people need to know what’s going on.

So that’s what’s going on.

I am in pain. I am weak. I am struggling to control it.

I’m scared.

It’s easier to just make you a cuppa tea

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I’m not comfortable dealing with old or sick people. To this day, I am still racked with guilt that I did not have it in my heart to bath my gran when she was still alive. Instead, I made tea.

So while my sister bathed my gran, even to the point of giving her a pedi, I knew that once she was done, I would sit at the kitchen table with tea and Marie Biscuits, listening to her talk for hours. It’s the least I could do…

On Saturday, my sister and I went to visit a close friend of the family who has recently been diagnosed with a brain tumour. Having “survived” lung cancer, she has now been told by her doctor to ‘get her affairs in order’ and consider moving into a frail care facility.

Not having seen her for many years, it was wonderful that as we walked through the door to her room in the hospital that she recognised us and was so happy to see us. Within a few minutes, we were chatting about work, life, reminiscing about the good old times and joking about the doctors.

As it always does, the conversation gets to those awkward silences. I was strangely nervous, uncomfortable. I had so many questions but kept quiet.

I’m just going to say what I was thinking…

How do you ask someone who’s dying how long they’ve got? Do you even bring something like that up in conversation? Do you ask such questions? And then what do you say?  Is it my place to ask?

I have an analytical mind. I like to work things out, make sense of things, plan ahead, knowing what we’re in for. But without the facts, I hate sitting around in total darkness, not knowing what to do.

So we chatted and chatted (actually, it was my sister that did most of it) and we laughed, even making jokes about her tumour. And eventually we left.

I have no idea when I will see her again or if this will be the last time that I do?

It feels like I should be doing something. But do what? And if I haven’t made an effort for so long, would it appear false?

Do I just walk away now and wait? That sounds terrible. Heartless…

I feel so helpless. It feels as if I have so many unanswered questions.

It’s so much easier to make tea.

I cheat. But hey, it works.

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Time trial: Measuring your current level of performance against the clock on a mapped out distance. In essence, evidence of running the same course regularly in order to see how much you’ve improved or worsened. In most cases, the route is either 5km or 8km.

 

I can still remember my very first time trial (TT). I was new to running and up until that stage had only attempted one or two 3km runs around the block near our complex. However being a seasoned runner, and having made it sound so easy, KK convinced me to join him at the Tuesday RAC time trial at the Old Parktonian Sports Club in Randburg. 

Bubbling with nervousness and excitement, I joined the other runners gathered at the meeting point on the field. After the usual race announcements, we all headed out. As the runners reached the first corner, I was already exhausted and needed to walk. 

(For those who are familiar with the time trial route at RAC Running Club, the 1st km starts out on the cricket field and then weaves onto another one. In fact, the first 800 meters feels as if your feet are being sucked into the ground as you run on lush, green grass until you reach the gate leading on to the busy street.) 

It came as a shock to my body and the more I walked, the more people ran passed me until I looked around and saw no one. 

I was last. Stone last. 

My first 5km time trial took me approximately 52 mins. Almost a full hour. By the time we finished (KK walked most of the way with me – bless him), it was getting dark and the majority of runners were getting ready to leave the club to go home. As happy as I was that I had completed my first TT, it did set in motion what would be my TT training in the future. 

Since that day, I do not start with all the other runners. Why not? Simple: That mental breakdown of coming last it too great. It’s not worth that feeling of failure. I know that I most probably won’t ever come last again, but I’m not going to take any chances.

Nowadays, I like to hit the road before 17h30 and take my time. I also don’t have scores of athletes shooting passed me as if I’m standing still. I can concentrate on my own pace. 

I still remember the day that two guys, carrying a canoe, came running passed me at time trial and I couldn’t catch them! Obviously training for some canoe race… I guess. 

I also skip the 800m running on the field. It’s too draining. Mentally and physically. It’s as if I can’t get going and it saps me of all the excitement of the run. Running on grass is not easy. Well, for me at least.

No. I start where the walkers start (how ironic!) which then cuts the route down to almost 4.2km.

Judge me as you wish, but what matters is that it’s my training. It’s my time trial. It’s my run. And I’m there… doing it. My way.

Is it cheating? Maybe. But it’s what works for me. See you on the road!

Tuesday 27th September TT time: 33:05   Distance: 4.2km