I Was Sure It Was Intelligence

Tim Noakes says it’s cowardice! I have always stopped (way) shy of really pushing my body. My mantra is a firm “No Pain, No Pain”. Intelligence or cowardice? Intelligence, of course, IMNSHO. But: —————— . . . . Noakes tells the central-governor story in a narrative form that’s almost, well … almost readable. I’m notContinue reading “I Was Sure It Was Intelligence”

Don’t Call Me Comrade

I tried. Well, I made a less-than-worthy attempt. My heart wasn’t in the training. I could never quite see the glamour or ‘worthiness’ of shuffling furtively round the dark streets long before sunrise, but I gave it a go. I even tried the flaming hot running shorts Phil Greenberg gave me in the hopes I’dContinue reading “Don’t Call Me Comrade”

My Education Proceeds Apace

Two versions of “pace” on this morning’s school run: Tom – Dad, I PACED him (telling how he had run around some hapless defender on the rugby field). Faatima – I have to learn to PASTE myself when running (telling how she runs with her 18-Comrades-medals Dad). I learn a lot on the school runContinue reading “My Education Proceeds Apace”

Beating a Not-So-Hasty Retreat

The Dundee (pronounced DinDear locally) athletic club and the Dundee Hysterical Society run a 21km foot race called the Isandlwana 21 or The Fugitives’ Trail half marathon every January on the closest Sunday to the 22nd which is when the homeland-defending Zooloos routed the wickedly-invading Poms in 1879 and gave them a well-deserved smack onContinue reading “Beating a Not-So-Hasty Retreat”