An HKE sesh

Here are some photo's (as promised over a month ago) of some exercises we learnt in an HKE session

The abductor a.k.a. the 'yes/no' machine

 Strengthening that tricep with a simple elastic rope tied to a bar

Cath doing pec decks. (Be careful to exercise both arms equally on this one. I had a heavy arm for two weeks as a result of not concentrating on the exercise.) 

Work those (oblique) abs! Lift shoulders off the floor and reach for alternate ankles.  

Cath and me doing tricep curls - no more teacher arms! 

Planking - this is trending worldwide. We kept it in the safe environment of the HKE building. (Be careful to keep your back straight to maximise the exercise and avoid injury.) 

I am doing hamstring cruls and Cath is on the leg raises. (I avoided the latter exercise due to a weak lower back.)

Nurturing the body to serve the passion

“I just felt like running... I ran across the whole state of Alabama...then I reached a sea. So I turned around and kept going. Then I reached another. So I thought there’s nothing else to do except keep running...I had been running for two years, 14 days and 16 hours.”

Forrest Gump keeps running

Well, I hadn’t run for two weeks after the Two Oceans. And one Monday I decided to start again. I contemplated the short golf course route – 6km. And when I got to the turn-off, I figured I’d turn it into an 8k. And when I got to that turn-off, I figured I’d extend the route join Mike on the army base run. It got dark, and we kept going... 10km later I was feeling back in the game!

The excitement to be back on the road spilled over to the next day. I decided that now that I’ve achieved the distance, I should work on my speed. The challenge: better personal best time trial time of 20min 18sec. Turns out that the 1 second I spent squirming through a pool of mud was all the difference. My takkies made it through ok:

The result of fairy dancing through the mud

But I missed my PB by ONE SECOND and worked up a thorough injury that has kept me off the road for three weeks now. I don’t know what’s wrong. And despite many wise pieces of advice I haven’t been to the physio to find out. But there were other things to learn through this injury...

I learnt that mixed veg moulded better around my ankle and was less of a shock to the system than a pack of ice. I only gave it up for cooking if my digsmate promised to bring me the frozen peas in exchange. “What else can you do?” Mom asked after I said that my only form of exercise has ground to a solid halt. “Drink to forget,” I replied. [insert typical Mom reaction.]

And after moping around for a week, complaining everytime I went up or down the stairs, something else landed on my doorstep. Enter: spinning.  Catherine, a very good friend and one of my classmates, is head of the spinning instructors at the Health Suite (Rhodes gym). With an enthusiastic smile she said “Yes come for a session! Tomorrow at 1pm.” I sneaked in at 12h45 with no authorising sticker to speak of. She adjusted my seat and handle bars, smiled sweetly and said “there you go. Is that ok?” But when Cath gets onto that bike, her alternate ego kicks in and her caring tone turns into a ROAR! She knew just when to shout “FOCUS ON YOUR BREATHING!” when I was drinking air, and “FLAT FEET LIGHT HANDS!” when I was leaning on my hands too much, and “LOOKING GOOOOOOD!” when I was just about to fall over and die for a minute.

About 10 minutes before the end of the class I found myself overwhelmed by emotion. Perhaps this is part of reaching that emotional outlet at the peak of an exercise session. A realisation high fived me in the face: I am in this studio because I can’t run. I am banned from the therapeutic hills of Grahamstown because my ankle cannot handle the impact on the road. But, as Cath roared once more, I converted the emotion into fuel for the last stretch of the simulated race. And, as all fairytales end, it was all more than worth it in the end. Spinning was upgraded from back-up plan to cross-training plan for when I’m back on the road.  

I also dabbled in Yoga. 5h45am Tuesday morning Meg would arrive outside my door for my first Yoga session. Neither of us got any sleep the night before because we were too concerned about oversleeping. With 5kg cement bags under our eyes and bed hair roughly pulled back, we emerged in the doorway of Health Suite. Turns out, the ‘warrior’, the ‘fish’ and the ‘tree’ aren’t as trivial as they look. Nina’s voice was calming and reassuring as she guided us through a twelve step sequence. “Inhale hands together one. Exhale back two. Inhale down three. Right leg back four. Retain...” Later in the class, we were doing the ‘corpse’ – lying flat on the back, palms faced upwards, eyes closed. I felt like a corpse when I couldn’t run. And the emotion welled up again. This time, I converted it into determination to heal and get back on the road. My mentor has instilled little phrases in my mind as mechanisms with which to play the mind game in exercise. For example, “reduce pace, maintain effort” runs over and over in my head when hitting a hill. On the eve of the Two Oceans he messaged me: “Play the mind game. No drama.” And after the Yoga session, it dawned on me: I have to play the mind game with injury as well.

I’ve learnt the lesson that Mom has pointed out numerous times when runners’ knee pricked my ignorant ways: “Too much, too fast, too soon.” It seems that it took a more painful injury and many more Cataflams to bring me to the bottom line: the passion for running can not be exploited as a sole mode of exercise and main source of happiness. The body must be strengthened in various ways to enhance the running experience. Holistic nurturing of the body renders it fit to serve the passion. And if Passion is served, the rewards are priceless. 

On raging Rhodents and Two Oceans...

The Two Oceans weekend started off with no sleep. Not even an hour. You see, it was the eve of the Easter long weekend, and my preparation for the 4am bus departure was somewhat interrupted by a horde of Crackling consuming naartjie war participants – commonly referred to as Rhodents. When they finally gallivanted out the door to the Rat, I could begin. I hauled out the second largest suitcase I own. The rule is: I will bring along as much as I can carry. And this immaculate 21^st birthday present had wheels. (Good thinking, Mom!) My peaceful and lengthy shower ritual was later interrupted by two Rhodents who had abandoned ship and turned to me for a sober drive home. I am by no means complaining because the ride home in my Toaster was filled with hilarious conversation and silly drunken accidents. By 2am there was no point in going to bed. Needless to say, I missed the whole Garden Route and only emerged from a death-like slumber after half way. The first thing I saw was a GIANT chair and led a group of Rhodes athletes to climb it. We made it:

The giant chair somewhere between Knysna and Cape Town

Me after climbing the chair

The actual race started off on a freezing cold morning. We were up at 4am lacing armpits with deodorant and stomachs with gooey oats. Despite staying about 5km from the start, we ran into a parking disaster. Eventually we settled for an illegal parking on an on-ramp to the highway. Quick photo of Rhodes vests in black bags:

Rhodes athletes at the Two Oceans (trending black bags!)

and off we went to the starting area.

I started right at the very back of E-seeding (which is the back of all backs) with the Malawian twins: Kerry and Tracy – fellow first time Two Oceans half marathoners. With music blaring, I danced to keep warm in my black bag. Then, ready, steady... WAIT...1 minute – we started walking... walking... walking... After the clock ate FIVE MINUTES off my time, I skipped under the starting banner and pushed play on my ‘running songs’ playlist. I know that iPods not actually allowed, but saw it as a safety net and something I was more familiar with than a half marathon race.

It really did not feel like 21km – what with dodging through slow pokes on the road and all the excitement on the side of the road, there wasn’t much time to pay attention to getting tired. Not even the notorious Southern Cross Drive could match my training hills in Grahamstown. What a pleasure! They call it “the most beautiful race” but I didn’t see much of the scenery. I was too focused on passing the set of takkies in front of me. Every now and then a random spectator would identify my iconic purple Rhodes running vest and shout “GO RHODENT!” to which I replied “whoop whoop!!” With about two kilometres to go, my eye caught a sign floating the crowd. It read “Toenails are overrated!” With renewed motivation I kissed my deep red manicured toenails good-bye and raced over the finish line.

The Two Oceans' finish at UCT at around 8h30.

2:22 – Looks poetic on paper and is not bad for beginners I suppose. As I sip warm contents from my Two Oceans mug, I stare at the winding route printed on it. At times like these, one persistent thought never fails to prickle my thoughts: “I can’t wait to do it again next year!”

The results are published in the Cape Argus the day after the Two Oceans. See my name: 

SCHOEMAN, MEGAN   RHODESU   23   F   2:22:54

My race number. This now lives on my bedroom door for inspiration.

Takkie Thursday

I have dubbed every Thursday ‘Takkie Thursday’ from now on. And no, I do not work for Standard Bank. As mentioned before, I have to (and am happy to) attend a compulsory exercise session every Thursday at lunchtime,  and usually fit in a few kilometers on the takkies in the afternoon. So, there is really no point in getting dressed for anything other than sport. *bliss*

Thursday’s exercise session with Lauren and Alice at the HKE was a thrill. Catherine (my classmate) and I, paired up and did various exercises as set out by the HKE students. This included structured sets including 10 to 15 reps of each exercise. Peck decks, hamstring curls, lunges, ‘the plank’ and a couple of others served my motivation to improve core strength. (You can Google these terms if you like, but Cath and I will be posting explanatory photo’s soon!) The Abductor/ Adductor machine was a giggle for each one that experienced it.

As you might know, it requires you to either squeeze your legs together or push them apart, on a horizontal plain. The HKE only has the one type –  the abductor machine. Ofcourse the sexual innuendo of the machine gave us a giggle, but more the fact that it has a variety of colloquial names: the ‘yes/no’ machine, the ‘gyne’ machine, or according to Gareth Cliff, the ‘slut or nun’ machine.

What was most valuable about this session, is that most of the exercises we learnt can be done at home. Catherine and I are both keen exercise enthusiasts, and took on the session in gym bunny style: jokes, giggles and talk about unappreciated fat. But, this did by no means influence the focus on exercise – an excellent manifestation of multi-tasking.

The leg raises hurt my lower back a little - it is something I have always struggled with. I know that my core strengh is terrible and that a couple of thousand sit-ups are needed to change that. *sits up straight in office chair* But, apparently, core strength is not just about working your stomach, but you lower back as well. And so, Alice imparted some useful advice: the ‘superman’ exercise. Intended to strengthen the lower back, this is how it is carried out: lie flat on your stomach with your arms stretched out in from of you or folded beneath your chin. Lift arms, head and legs simultaneously and essentially balance on your abdomen. Repeat in 2 or 3 sets of 10 to 15 reps. And, in my case, repeat a couple of million times after that. (Superman soundtrack not included.) 

Friday morning I got out of bed with a shock – the seemingly easy exercises actually caused some stiffness in the muscles! I patted myself on the back, promised to continue the exercises at home and packed my takkies for a holiday in the hometown of Johannesburg.

The Monument-al hug

As karma would have it, we ran the biggest hill on our list of training routes today – the Monument. It makes me think of that song:

The grand old Duke of York,

He had ten thousand men.

He marched them up to the top of the hill…

And then he marched them down again.

I was just about marching/hiking at some point. I’ve learnt that if you just put your head down and focus on the yellow line, the hill is more bearable.

I actually like the Monument route. It’s scenic, short and rewarding. AND good preparation for the Two Oceans. Have a look at the profile of this race (scroll down and click on image to enlarge). What are those spikey thingies? *gasp*

My calves were quite sore afterwards though. And not burning, but pulling. I tried to give them a good stretch by standing on the edge of the pavement and holding onto the lamp post (which I have now dubbed ‘my’ lamp post for daily stretching). Must remember to ask the HKE experts about stretches on Thursday. *makes mental note to research the importance of stretching* Especially after the podiatrist told me that my calf muscles are too short. (This is excellent for wearing heels, but not so much for takkies and Monument runs.) They actually need to be stretched as often as daily meals – three times religiously.

But the best part of today’s run was the therapy. Who needs happy pills? A good blast of endorphins is simply splendid for emotional uphills – true story. I ran my 10k PB (personal best) on emotional stress. My digsmate often says “Hugs not drugs!” as he heads out the door. And today, the Monument was more of a hug than a hill.  

What's that coming over the hill?

“57335 – yes that’s right. They have received it and you’ve been entered.” THANK THE POPE! For the past two weeks, I have been picturing my Two Oceans re-entry falling off the snail mail donkey cart. For what reason the Two Oceans office wouldn’t allow me to just email it, I do not know. It had to be in by 18 March, and so, I braved the smelly que and pathetic service at the post office, to send it via registered mail – just in case. And now I am regretting the drink I had last night.

I asked Dr Google just how bad alcohol is for exercise and, naturally, he had about 66 900 000 results (in 0.15 seconds). I won’t elaborate on every fact given, but what it comes down to is that alcohol has no nutritional value and way too many calories. I knew that already. More importantly, it negatively affects endurance. As it stimulates blood vessels to dilate, heat loss increases. Therefore, muscles get cold and become slower and weaker during contractions. Furthermore, aerobic capacity, the ability to mobilise fat and recovery capabilities take a knock too.

Shocked realisation: the hill I run up just now is going to be particularly challenging, no matter how loud I blast the music through my iPod. “What’s that coming over the hill? Is it a monster? Is it a monster?” No, it’s Megan on the Tuesday after Cougar Monday. 

Behavioural change - run more, smile more :)

“Oh you’re grumpy this morning. I think you need to go for a run.” This is pretty much the response I get from my digsmates everytime I’m in a bad mood. And they are right. Running makes me a happy person. My slightly dirty, New Balance takkies (with a pink characteristic ‘N’ on the side), are my mobile therapy room. Running processes my issues whilst (hopefully) generating some gorgeous calve muscles at the same time. Hill training is best for those difficult days where you turn up all the one-ways. And in Grahamstown, South Africa, there are plenty of stress-relieving hills that offer rewarding views of the town (and a welcome downhill on the other side).  

Also in Grahamstown is Rhodes University – the place to study Journalism and Media studies in South Africa, and host to a brand spanking new honours course in health journalism. At the start of term, Prof Harry Dugmore explained the notion of behavioural change with relation to our health course. The challenge: bring about some behavioural change in your lifestyle to benefit your health.

Yes! I’ve had a head start! I absolutely despised long distance running all my life. But after entering the Two Oceans half marathon this year, I have discovered a new love and a crutch in none other than road running. With a couple of k’s already on my takkies, I stepped up my training programme. This most certainly does not imply a systematic plan or involvement of scientific method – I simply started running more often because ‘programmes’ ironically seem to discourage any aspiration for behavioural change in my fitness. Programmes guilt trip you for missing a day and ultimately end up in the bin with the imprint of the bottom of my slipper on it. 

However, one programme we are required to keep to is to be at the HKE (fanless, hot, old building for Human Kinetics and Ergonomics) at lunch time every Thursday. In the first session, ‘fitness’ (for lack of a better word) assessment showed that I have the flexibility of an ox and the heart of a young cheetah. I have never been able to touch my toes and probably never will – perks of long legs? But the pathetic flexibility measurement motivated me to do some of those elementary Yoga moves with unrelated names in the Runners’ World magazine. *Sets reminder to find respective magazine tomorrow*

How many sit-ups and push-ups did I manage in a minute? I don’t know. But it was also not fantastic. But a motivation to improve none-the-less. I aced the cardiovascular assessment, though. As we went up up down down the step to the rhythm of the pentameter, my heart rate made a slow climb to one hundred and twenty something. And a quick recovery thereafter. (No thanks to the two hot cross buns I had for lunch). 

And so, the basic measurements under the surveillance of classmates, have motivated me to run more and eat less hot cross buns.