Missing a few days of training, is ok, and can actually benefit the body allowing good recovery, especially after an ultra marathon.

However, tto much rest can make a runner lazy. Add a seven day week and you have the ingredients to lose sight of your carefully laid out training plans.

I have taken two weeks off since my Ultra in Cape Town (the two oceans 56 km). I have only run 1 =5kay and walked a 5 kay since the big battle to counquer the Terrible Two Oceans. I have steadied ny resolve to train and formulated a plan to recover the lost Kilometers. The next week sees the Chatsworth 25 on Sunday which I plan to run albeit slowly, its a race where on can pick up injuries as the decline on Higonsons is deceptively easy but taxing on the knees.

No need to pick up injuries here............lets just cruize this one and save myself for the following weekend, where I plan to run 3 back to back 1o kays with a leisurely 20 kay run on Freedom Day. After that I will make a Madiba Cake to celebrate our liberation and emancipation fron the dearth that was apartheid.........
and have no guilt about eating it.

Sunday Lunch

Sunday lunch with family is special,especially when the day is sunny and lazy and the little children are chirping merrily while we all eat drink and break bread together.

Today was especially good because the 7 month old Azzidine, broke out four teeth all at once. Two on the top and two smaller pearly ones at the bottom. Every body enjoyed hearing the teeth make sounds on the glass when his mom fed him some cream soda.

Lunch was a delious Lebanese meal from the new " Al Basha" restaurant- take away in the village. The babagaloosh, the tsatsiki and the kebabs were flavoured to perfection. Four different kebabs, shish, lamb, chicken and beef, each with a unique blend of spaices to tempt and tantalise the tasebuds were voracious enjoyed by all. The garlic and herb bread we had as an accompaniment, was warmed in the oven and smelt so good, we all ate far more than we should have.

Nadia prepared some custard and jelly for the children, and some avocado with milk and sugar just like my mom used to prepare it.

While we all felt ready to take a well deserved siesta, we felt the children and the dog should be taken to the park to play first. What a wonderful surprise we had when Patricia the lady who has a pair of pekinese was there too. Unfortunately Picasso did not think so, as he hid away from the beautifully groomed pair, who were amazingly energetic, under the car for the duration of our visit.

This gave us a chance also to play with the new soccer ball we bought to celebrate the coming world cup soccer in ?65 days time.

I managed to get two tickets for Nadia and myself for match 53, in Durban, but when i tried to book tickets for more matches in Durban, I was disapointed to find they had all been sold out.

We were overjoyed to find that tickets, the cheaper category 4 tickets were available in PE. While PE is a considerable drive away, and I have never been there, theyhave built a truly beautiful stadium alongside the sea. I phoned my nephew and my daughter who is studying in CapeTown and asked whether or not they wanted to travel with us to PE for a few days of sight seeing and to watch the match between Chile and Spain, before leaving the following day to return home to Durban. They all IMMEDIATELY agreed, and we booked the tickets.

We will have carefully plan our roadtrip in order to make the most of this visit. I must know it is going to be the best experience I ve had in a long time.

Now to find friends of friends to stay with!!!!!!!!!!!!I have a few ideas, or else we just book a campsite and sleep under the stars, what better way to see the east coast of South africa in June.

Learning Hindi in Durban

Friday, April 16, 2010
Learning Hindi in Durban
It was my second lesson in Hindi. At the first lesson last week, I was very nervous as the class was bigger than I had anticipated, with about 20 fellow learners, and some had not even attended.

Our teacher "aadhyapak,"in Hindi, or rather "maada," because she is female, is very patient and kind soul who is very tolerant of slow learners, so I think this is a good class to stick with.

I have a basic knowledge of words, which I remember from my childhood when I would hear my Mom speak to relatives, and when she would try to teach us the little she knew. What I find difficulty with is actually saying what i want to out loud. I am further finding it difficult to remember the words I had learnt from last week.

This week our maada, was away, and asked us to meet and revise our words and phrases. We decided that since we joined the class late we would do as she asked. A few minutes after we had begun our lesson, we had a visit from a Indian National who was visiting for an hour. He was a merchant at the Indian fair and had been invited to the class, by an acquaintance.

He was able to get us speaking simple sentences in the hour that he was there, and our pronunciation was improving as well. The hour flew without us realising it, and my confidence grew as well. I realise that learning a new language is the same as learning anything, with practise and confidence, learning can be so easy.

I am now motivated to speak Hindi, and am going to persevere with the wonderful group of people of all ages who are in the class. Each one of them motivated to learn a language that was denied to them because of our history in the education system. One gentleman stated that throughout our history as Indians in south Africa, it was always more beneficial to learn English and Latin, then it was English and Afrikaans and even now, they would like us to learn English and Isizulu.

It seems that whoever rules, dictates the languages that we learn formally in school.
With so much pressure to succeed in school subjects, it is not possible to insist on children taking other subjects after a tiring day at school. In fact most parents allow their children to catch up on the lessons with tuition in Maths and science to ensure matric entrance.

More often than not we ask them to take a European language instead of our mother tongue, so that they would be able to traverse the world and find better opportunities in faraway lands where the exchange rate yields more money per hour of work.

With Hindi, which is not far from my parents mother tongue of Urdu, I am hoping to personally redress my own distance that I feel from my culture. This does not mean that I wish to abandon the broader culture of being a South African. It just means that I wish to find a path to my roots that was denied to me by circumstances that were beyond the control of a whole generation who found themselves aliens in the country of their birth, “children born to immigrants from India, on South African soil." I am a second generation mix of Indian and Middle Eastern, but I have only a working understanding of simple Hindi/Urdu. My children know nothing of these languages that are widely prevalent in the world, because the population of India and Pakistan where they are spoken is so vast. I do hope that with my interest it will stimulate an interest in my children to pursue some lessons in the language.

I also have watched many Indians movies from Bollywood which releases songs with romantic lyrics. i was often told by my dad and other relatives that the true meaning of the poetry is often lost in translation, and only when you have a grasp of the language, can you begin understand the full impact of the passion and meaning locked within. My Hindi classes hopefully hold the key to these mysteries, and will reveal to me more in terms of the meaning of life too...........A burning question that haunts my soul..........

Today the Radiography students
who accomplished their goals last year and either passed or distinguised themselves in their chosen fields of study graduated in front of their family, friends and their lecturers and dignitaries.

It was truly a day for celebration and for fashion. Both males and females came in outfits which they had seriously contemplted for many a day, and adorned themselves for this auspicious event.
It was wonderful to see them and thier families rejouicing in the hard work they had put in to make sure this day would come to pass.

For us as educators who were the facilitators throughtout the years and assessments, and notes and assigments, it was truly a day for rejoicing again in your accomplishments.

To all the BTechs:2009!!!!!!!!Well done to all!!!!!!!

Wage disputes, and bad habits.....creating problems

I have often been told about a bad habit I have of turning the prevalent issue of the moment into something related to totally to myself ( in other words stealing the limelight). I had no idea that I was doing this so often or that others were noticing it, until it was mentioned and then highlighted with examples. It was not the easiest to hear little bits of truths about oneself especially if those truths were unflattering at the least and unlikeable at the worst. This was one bad habit I resolved to change with immediate effect. Unfortunately like all bad habits, this is proving difficult to do.

Yesterday a colleague and I had to work on a project together. Before we got down to the tedious task on hand, we began discussing the news and current events. Before long we began discussing the municipal workers strike which usually means the rubbish is not collected until they return to duty.

I soon realised that my rubbish which was supposed to be taken away on Wednesday will now not be collected for another week, and mentioned aloud that it was a huge problem if the municipality would give to the workers demands no matter what they were asking for. Having never heard me take one side of a wage dispute so strongly before, my colleague asked me why I thought so, expecting me to give an opinion I had perhaps heard on the radio or read in the newspaper.

I reminded him that I had a fallen adversary; “the dead rat” which was culled in battle, decomposing rapidly in my trash, and had a vested interest in the strike ending rather urgently, when I noticed that he was no longer just sitting upright, he was bent over trying to control his laughter, and not doing too well at that. He laughed long and hard before we got down to the business at hand.

I guess I will have to strengthen my resolve to rid myself of the bad habit, even though the bad smell lingers a while longer.

Greytown visit

I am glad I visited my sister in Greytown this weekend. I had felt some nostalgia driving there, as this was my home for more than ten years, and while the drive there was beautiful, as we approached the town it began to rain....... but once I arrived there and met my sister, I truly began to miss the city life. We drove to the Wimpy, but there was not much to do after we had caught up on the weeks news and had satiated our appetites. Being so cold, we ate far more than we should have.

I visited some of my erstwhile best frieds, and spent some cherished moments there, and retired back to the flat to watch the kids play with the WII.

If it had not been for the delicious braai, Zaheer made on the balcony, we all would have been forced to go to bed early to avoid catching our death of cold.

I cannot believe I lived in the one street town, for so many years. Neither can I imagine going back there to live on a more permanent basis, even though the place holds some fond memories of a happy time when my young family was still finding its path through to our present lives.

Coming back to Durban I witnessed a horrific accident that must have occurred a few minutes before. A BMW and a double cab had crashed and wer lying between the two lanes of the N2. Traffic had come to a slow crawl on both sides making it very dangerous for the many pedestrians and cars since there was no traffic police on the scene. The steam was still rising out of the radiator of the vehicle that had overturned. It was sobering and people were driving a lot slower with more care after they had passed the scene.

I was just thankful to be safely at home with my daughter, especially after seeing the accident.

Some rats had moved into the ceiling, and every night in the small hours they would become active. This would take the form of energetic scampering as if they were in the midst of a game, or a family squabble, or even heavan forbid a mating ritual ( let me not even begin to imagine that this frenitc enegy was the actaul act that would produce bountiful baby rats). While this was very irritating, no rats were seen and by morning the rats were forgotten because there was so much else that needed doing.

I spent a little more than a week visiting my children in Cape Town, and on my return was hoping to get a peaceful nights sleep with my own pillow on a familliar bed. Alas my absence had meant for the rats that I had abandoned my quaters, and it saw this as an opportunity to establish itself not in the ceiling anymore but in the room. Ofcourse, I was only made aware of this when at o1h30 in the morning I was awakened with scampering, araound the base of the headboard of my bed.

My displeasure was anounced with some shoe throwing at the cupboard where I last saw the unwelcome furry visitor. I also slept in another room albeit, very lightly, as can be expected, but not before I secured the door against it escaping, because I planned to have it caught the next morning.

The next morning saw me trying to establish whether I had dreamed the experience or imagined it all, which would mean I was slowly losing my mind!!!!!!! Thankfully the visitor had left a few dehydrated droppings which were a telltale sign of its presence. My dutiful maid arrived with a broom with which she was going to use as a weapon to kill and remove the rat, but alas when we moved the cupbaord and looked for it, it was nowhere to be found.

That evening at around six when it was becoming a bit dark, I approaced, my tenants, who were relaxing on the patio, and asked what would be the best way to kill a rat. They sugessted a some poison and we were discussing the dangers this would present for the three dogs and how to prevent any accidents, when one of the tenants, Richard noticed that a rat had fallen off the roof.

The convesation about the poisoning, had apparently affected the rodent to some degree as it was making its way to its preferred lodgings, "MY ROOM," and it fell off the roof. Being a resilient and mean hearted beast that it was, it didnt even have the decency to break any bones or dislocate a shoulder. So with only its feeling hurt as it thupmed to the ground, the critter began to run into the nearest bush.

One of the tenants, Grant, grew up on a farm, or was very energetic, grabbed a makeshift weapon of a piece of wood, which thankfully, one of the help had neglected to cleanup (I need to discipline someone at some stage)and called the Jack Russels to assist in catching the rodent. Ofcourse, my dogs are called "Courage and Lily", but their names were changed to " Billy and Peta," by the tenants when they arrived, so when they began to call the dogs, they were quite ignored. I smiled (even though the situation was tense) a satisfied smile of " HUH They are still my dogs even though you guys spend a little more time trying to convert them, to new and disturbing names," all the while hoping the rat would be caught soon.

With the dogs now milling around the bush nosily, and excitedly, the rat made a desparate dash for the next bush which would see it closer to the garage and freedom if it could get behind the garage. But no, Grant was onto it, with the dogs in tow, and now Richard who had fetched his hockey stick, was now also in on the action. With this added effort the rats looked up and began climbing the tree, while the boys and the dogs concentrated on the dense foliage at the ground level. I spotted its mad dash up the palm tree and quickly directed the action, before it had a chance to get too far up. With some forceful slashing action Grant managed to deter the escape skywards, but the frantic creature now saw fit to break towards the garage, its initial desired route of escape.........At this stage, I gave up on the valiant efforts of the two boys, men really and the ferocious dogs, Jack Russelss really and got into my car to get some rat poison.

While going to the supermarket, I reflected this hunt had all the flavour of a foxhunt, in which the fox is hunted and killed in an inhumane manner and began to feel slightly soory for the rodent in question. But then I remembered that rats do carry diseases which can create quite a problem and they do colonise quickly with their prolific breeding habits. I recently read too that with the warm weather, snakes would be attracted to an area where rats and mice were allowed to establish themselves and a few dogs and humans were bitten by the venomous "black Mamba" recently.

In the store the gentleman who directed me to a shelf where the poison was located, was quite surprised when I suggested the size of the rat I wished to rid my self of and his smile had all the suspicion of one who listens to the story of the fish that got away. For some reason he didnt think rats grew that large. When i had spoken to a ldy from the Etekwini municipality she expressed surprise that " Umhlanga" had rats too. I quickly let her know that we had sugar cane in the surrounding areas, and decided that explaining to her the problem of global warming, and the profiliferation of pests as just one of the conseqences of bad town planning where dense populations exist would be too much effort. I left to to her alarm that even a more affluent neighbourhood has pests and dutifully took down the number for environmental safety, which I have since misplced, okay I actually lost it and would have to phone back, at some stage to alarm the good lady once again.

This truly was a huge monster, and when I first set eyes on him he looked big, but scampering up the tree, I realised just how large he was. (Indeed it occurred to me to look around in case he had four teenage mutant ninja turtles in tow, that he was teaching the Marshal Arts to.)

Upon my return home, I approached Grant with my purchases of some blocks of blue bait which promised to get rid of any " Norway" and "Roof" rats, feeling this bait was tailor made for me. I received the happy news that in my absence, that the recent culling of one large rodent, had been excersised, with mixed feeling of disbelief but overwhelming relief too. The said rat was disposed of in the dustbin, and will lie there until in five days time it will be carried away with the trash. This decomposition of a rat on the property means that we will soon smell the effects of the "dirty business." The rat, even in death would hold dominion over its chosen abode for some time.

I have promised Grant and Richard a cake baked by myself for thier valiant efforts against a worthy advesary. In every war there is a victory and a defeat, I humbly salute the invader, who is no more.

Return to Kwa-Zulu Natal

It was biting cold at 4 am when we had to wake up and get ready to leave Cape Town, and bitter sweet to leave our family there and come home to our real homes and pets and lives..........

We arrived to a sunny warm and welcoming ...Durban, and a house full of studfents who were using my home while we were away. Young vibey, future accountants with sass and not any bit like what one would expect--- no nerds these.

They had a love lunch with Rose with us and left, and I was able to catch up some time with Picasso, the Peke, who seemed to have survived the students and being abandoned for the Easter Break.....


We were then inundated with family, Nafisa, my sister and her lovely husband Zahir and their brood of two sons, one like the Dad, and the other like the Mom, but the personailties are totally swopped over, so the one who looks like mom, shares Dads personality traits, and vice versa.....We had missed them during the easter break away, and enjoyed high tea of a speciality cake from Miguil's...Feroro Rocher Cake is divine and I'm often fantasizing about the taste each time I think about it.

Nafisa has a five year old now, who is a busy , sporty, and eager little boy and none of the monster, that he used to be........or does he hide it well?? The little one, Azzie, is the cutest 7 month old who thanks to his gran has some really trendy baby clothes from cape Town.

When all left I was left alone to ponder my return to work the next day. Lectures had to be checked and plans had to be made to catch up with lost time during the recent student protests......A missed assessment had to be redefined as an assignment and a online test.... Oh well at least I had a ffew days off.........

Two Oceans Marathon- 2010- 56 KMs

The Two Oceans marathon is not my favourite marathon. I have a medal fromm 2002 and in 2004 I registered but pulled out because of a chest infection.....and in 2009, I was forced to bail out. I am not sure wheter turmultous emotions the knee injury or a year of smoking had the effect of my not finishing. I still completed the comrades, with the knee injury and the smoking, so i guess the emotional trauma was the deciding factor there.......which resulted in me having severe stomach cramps....

Although the Two Oceans Marathon is 33 Kms less than the Comrades marathon, it can and should be considered just as gruelling, and the body feels the strain of it.

The race starts on Main Street and is deceptively easy for the first 21kms, however although you are running in flater conditions, your legs have to work constantly.
Geting to the Magaliesberg mountains and into kalk Bay is wonderful, even though raod works mar the terrain, the houses are all so beautiful. I love going past the old age homes and seeing the happy smiles of the elderly who get out to watch the spectacle and merrily wave while chewwing toothlessly on nothing.

The next part through the suburbs that take you to the half way mark is quite ardous and boring, but there are always beautiful kites on display to take away the hurt that is beginning to tighten the Quads. Then we get to the half way mark ( 28 KM) and the climb up Chapmans Peak looms ahead.......At once eager for the view and the excitement, but not wanting to lose time and develop cramps serves to interupt the total enjoyment that is possible on this truly scenic part of the race. This is also the place in any marathon where most runners "hit the wall" anyway. Not one for carbo-loading with supplements, ( I just eat a lot)I am already expecting to hit the wall hard......my body soon tells me its had enough and I am only just pasiing the LLamas, grazing in the field alongside the foothills and am nowhere near the real climb....Thankfully the Chappies twists and turns so that I cannot see the whole climb in one complete sweep ahaed........In the previous attempt I did Ou Kaapse se Weg and that one was worse because you saw what was waiting ahead.

The best thing to do is find someone else who is climbing the way you ( as badly as you)are and let them distract you till you get to the top.......it also helps if they have a panado, to spare.........A gorilla suited dancer is another welcome distraction which is a bonus at this stage.

Once at the top it is not as easy as making up time racing down the hill, your sore muscles deny you the opportunity to do this and you should be grateful as this is where a lot of injuries are avoided. Having family meet you after this ardous journey up and down the hill is very welcome, especially when they have drinks and ener jellies as a surprise. A small flat stretch in Hout Bay takes you to the 42 kay mark, dont expect to do a PB on this one, and you wont be disapointed!

Drinking coke every three km is not easy on the lining of the stomach and alternating with powerade, even though the caffiene assists in getting you to the next table is the best way to go. Bland cold baby potatoes in their jackets are devoured with appreciation that one expects from young women with eating disorders, in their binge phase.

After Hout Bay, when youve hit the wall, bounced back, and are are expecting to work hard, you have to pull out all the stops, to keep focused. It sometimes helps me to sing the same refrain of some song over and over again, or to count to eight, and i sometimes count out aloud. What never helps to to see better atheltes, or better trained athletes, constantly pass you when youre feeling roughedned by the route. Then you just wish you had registered for the 21 instead.

But you persevere, and the boards start entering the late forties, and you begin to feel it may have been worth it, you also check the clock to see if you can do a PB, and tell yourself to go for it, but your body ignores your sill sugesstions. By now youre in the last ten Kms of the race and believe any one in the side who tell you its all gonna be downhill plain sailing after you round the next bend.

Just as you redeem your faith in yourself, the 7 hour "bus" starts catching up with you, you realise that your PB has flown out the window for sure, and no lying to yourself can change your mindset here. Now you seriously consider that you may actually not get the medal afterall the hard labour you have just put in. All the near miss stories that your pals and fellow runners have told you start to seem like it could happen to you, and you hang onto anyone who tells you you have this one in the bag, sometimes asking twice "are you sure?" Just the same, you then speed up a little to make doubly sure, but even then you see another hill to the noisy anouncements in the field and cheering crowds just out of reach........as you enter the field all the aches are forgotten, the cheering crowds and blur of faces, holds your loved ones and the promise of a welcome repreive from the pounding and you cannot help but succumb and wave stupidly and grin happily back at strangers who seem to know your joy.......not at getting the medal, but the joy of finally listening to every fibre in the muscles of your quads and calves, which have been telling you since 15Km to stop. You stop, your training partner who smells and looks like she has just crossed the karoo barefoot, wants to take a picture to mark the ocasion, you agree knowing you look worse for wear than her, and probably smell just as bad......

Pain, stupidity, joy and pleasure, intertwined into glory of conquering another Ultra marathon!

Cape Town visiting children

The weather is good, but different from Durban, just 2 hours away........Sunny but the sun is less intense, and the breeze much cooler, it bites through the clothes.
Grown up kids can become babies around a parent, and it makes my heart sing to see it.

They show their independence and dependence in curious and comical alternating displays. Sibling rivalry too rears its ugly head, every once in a while and I am left wondering whether I should ignore or step up and rescue them from each other.

Today Katie and her friends, visit in my home while I am away, and I feel happy to know that Picasso the pekingese, will have some company or a distraction, at any rate, until I can fly back home to him to reassure him that all is not lost as he must feel because he was left alone at home with the maid.