Aside from sinus issues, and a wake-the-neighbours hacking cough at night, I’m doing pretty well post Comrades.
I’ve run – and coughed – once, and had my first gym session yesterday, where I got a sympathetic hug from my personal trainer, which, weird as it might sound, was one of the most wonderful things to have happened. Our trainer Armstrong is tall and strong, and not warm, but not cold either. Usually we get a handshake each week, but this morning’s commiserative hug spoke volumes.
I’m feeling less of a failure for not finishing Comrades, and I guess I’m glad life has sufficiently gotten in the way for me to focus on things other than the 25km or so kilometres I didn’t finish. There have been power outages, car issues and laptop hassles, but there has also been some good work, events and shiny new gadgets to try out, and review.
I’m glad I wept, I’m glad I felt all there was to feel, and I’m happy I’ve picked up my shoes and headed out the door for a trot, with Gina our dog backtracking every few hundred metres, either to say “Are you okay?”, or “Can you quit going so slowly?”.
This week is also the start of the World Cup, and it’s impossible not to think back four years, when we were so privileged to live through such an event right here. It was a time of so much pride, it was a time when most houses had South African flags flying outside, and where it was cool to have “socks” on our cars’ side mirrors in the colours of the flag.
You weren’t even one year old, and I remember how during the evening games, you would sit on your play cushion in the TV room, happily playing away, while we watched soccer. It was during this time I actually learnt the offside rule, some players’ names, and how not to judge a team based on how hot their players are.
Thank you for being a light as always, and reminding me what counts. I don’t always get it right, but I try.
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