VER I ♥ U

VERA I ♥ U

VERDI I ♥ U

VERILY I ♥ U

VERBALLY I ♥ U

VERMOUTH I ♥ U

VERACIOUSLY I ♥ U

CONVERSELY I ♥ U

VERONICA I ♥ U

AVERSELY I ♥ U

VERGIL I ♥ U

VERMIN I ♥ U

VERY I ♥ U

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfbaYmQbqbY

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jxAIbxSyEiY

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2DmP3xulCQ

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gNQGwWfWnY

The photo above depicts what one sees today upon reaching the car park of Gnejna Bay – three aluminium container-like structures housing two kiosks and a water sports centre, all partitioning the beach from the parking area. In the eyes of some, the sight of silver aluminium shining in the sun is more satisfying than tanned sand, shimmering sea and crumbling cliffs. In the pockets of others, it is more rewarding to allow businesses to appropriate what, until recently, belonged, at no charge, to all those who frequented the bay. Where once upon-a-stormy-day it was possible to sit in the relative comfort of one’s car while watching nature unleash its fury, today one can still sit in the relative comfort of one’s car but, watch what exactly? Aesthetic idiocy unleashed.

The day to proudly do our patriotic duty has arrived; oil our weapons, stock up on cartridges, don camouflage and take aim. We will have no qualms in peppering the neutrality flag with shotgun pellets because of the innumerable migrants having the gall to try and land here. Even though their intention is to rest awhile before moving on to more northern countries, the order is shoot to kill.

13 April and the government declares the hunting season open.

All hail.

This morning I decided to take it a step further by carrying my Sanyo Xacti movie cam in a waist bag. With photography being another of my interests, I have often rued the missed opportunities which arise during a dawn run. However, I have now resolved this quandary by committing myself to the occasional tourun.

I can see where this is going. Next will be snacks on some craggy cliff face and, with the warming of the weather, a plunge into a cool pool of water far away from the popular bathing places. All these sensory pleasures will still be bookended by a pair of running shoes carrying me to and from my destination.

 httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pkiwH1NWc9g

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EYO9WgfbAzU

• in slippery mud, where even standing still has you gliding over the earth
• in sticky mud, which experience has taught me that shoes not firmly done up get sucked clear off the feet
• over compact sand, with its ability to mimic the running shoes’ outsoles
• over loose sand, which is akin to running on a ship in heavy seas
• on seaweed so soft I wonder why it has never made it as a cushioning product to rival Nike’s Air or Asics’ Gel
• up a stairway to oxygen-debt hell
• along the remains of a reputedly Roman road; and I use “remains” in the literal sense of the word
• close to cliff edges, where I trod more softly in the hope that the crumbling face wouldn’t take a dislike to my presence and swallow me whole
• on paths where the legs were not enough to propel me forward, so the hands had to come into play, turning me into a 4×4
• along the odd stretch of tarmac, just so not to forget that this is the surface I’ll be doing the half-marathon on later this month

This is not the sort of training session that fits neatly into a scheduled heart rate zone or so many minutes-per-kilometre pace. Nor is it one that can be run “as you feel”. Instead, the test lies in adaptability: respect the challenges nature decides to put in your path and change stride, pace and/or intensity accordingly.

Today I was not a cross-country runner

Today I was not a trail runner

Today I was an all-terrain runner!

Tonight was a case in point. At a quarter to eight, I was still feeling bloated from a latish, albeit delicious, 2-course meal of mama’s cooking. My eyelids were also having a say in the bodily conference, gently tugging downwards as I played some moves in my on-line backgammon tournaments. Conniving with a reluctant body, the heavens issued an ominous rumble while my desktop weather station reminded me that the outside temperature was soon going to reach a single digit figure.

And so it was that 15 minutes later I hit the initial stretch of tarmac, trying to find my legs before the secure surface dropped off (literally) to a mix of rock, loose stones and muddy patches. As happy as I am with the luminosity of my headlamp, it still doesn’t beat the natural light of day. Hence the extra care and almost chameleon-like moves when the North Face running shoes failed to find a grip.

The earlier thunder had a bark worse than its bite, because it only deposited a drizzle throughout the 50-minute session. However, it turned out to be a fascinating sight. At times the strong wind played chicken with me, approaching me at speed with the intent of making me veer off-course; not very successfully, I must add. It was at these moments that the gentle raindrops failed to fall to the ground anymore but, buoyed by the current of air, found a near-horizontal trajectory. The Petzl lamp caught each and every one of these thousands of watery torpedoes in a flood of light, illumining the individual droplets before they impacted upon me ever so softly.