It’s 7.00a.m., already 17oC. The sky is clear, and the air is crisp as I walk from the car park, dog in tow, excited to be outside. So many smells to smell and things to pee on.
I’m on a mission today. It’s the first day of a training program that will aid me in running 10kms. It is unclear to me why I want to do that, but there you go.
Step one is a 10-minute warm-up, walk or a light jog. The dog on leash, I break into a little jog along the gravel path. The birds chirping in the scrub, the surfers bobbing in the water like shark bait on a line.
The waves are crashing in and there’s a lot of people, all dressed in black wet-suits. And I pause to think who is crazier, the 60+ year old pretending to jog lightly, or the 60+ year olds dangling their legs in the cold water. Waiting for the right wave to ride to shore, so they can then paddle back out and wait for the next one.
My watch beeps and I ‘recover’ from my light jog for 30 seconds before leaping into cadence drills, a concept that eludes me really, then into acceleration-glider drills. I’m convinced that I would be better at dangling my legs over a surfboard.
Before too long, my watch declares that my workout is complete. I head to the sandy beach, let the dog off and watch her run madly along the sand, stopping sporadically to dig a hole because, she’s a dog.
Life is good.
