Tort

I few weeks ago I became the proud, if slightly anxious, owner of a pet tortoise.  He/She remains nameless - in part because I can't find the alleged 'bump' to determine gender.  A more important part of the naming process is identifying suitable character - you don't just name someone Mildred without feeling that deep down they're a Mildred.

Tort.

Tort has given little away.  What are his likes, his dislikes? is he a morning person or is he a night owl?  These questions swirl, preventing a close'ness, that I can really call him my own.

What he does do, magnificently well... it sit very still, almost rock-like.  If there was a championship, which required long spells of absence and inactivity, I might be tempted to enter him.  If I could find him.

GPS

I've made two trips up to Joburg in the last few weeks to visit Cath, while she does her ICU rotation.  One of the problems of visiting a new town, is being in the new town... and not knowing where the flip you, any of the time.

On the face of it GPS technology is super-duper. It occupies a grey area though, being trustworthy 95% of the time and behaving like a psychotic ex-wife the other 5%... sending you down one-way roads, non-existent left turns, or in our case... straight through Hillbrow and Yeoville after dark.

I remember turning right into a 4 lane road in Durban a few years ago, and about 7 seconds later realizing all four lanes had oncoming traffic in them.  Final Destination... indeed.

Supp exam

A supp (supplementary) exam is a true test of someone's optimism - at once a giant rusty dagger to the heart but also one of those life saving rings they throw out when you fall off a boat and are about to be eaten by a shark.

I wrote my supp yesterday, and it was the final dip on the roller coaster of frustration and hope to be rid of my Strategic Management module.  Time will tell.

I found myself in another obscure UNISA venue, this time in Cambridge, trying to make myself comfortable before we got down to business.  I think the most important thing before an exam is to be relaxed - some people get stressed if they can't revise up to the last second, others like me... enjoy a sandwich an a nap as an examination warm up.

One gent put his books down, then discovered he still had 3 minutes and promptly grabbed them again.

If you're considering a UNISA course I recommend checking out there Facebook page, let's just say they've disabled their wall to stem the tide of complaints.  It makes sense, much easier than to fix the rot in their system.

Nahoon Point Parkrun

Having been a squatter in the marketing industry for a while, I'm constantly surprised by how effective the repackaging, or re-configuration of an existing product can be.

Such is the Parkrun concept - some might say its the T20 of running.  In order to have a birthday celebration, without actually having to organise a birthday celebration, I suggested whoever was free come down to the Nahoon Point Parkrun on Saturday morning, 08:00 sharp, and then stick around for breakfast afterwards at Reef Cafe.

So it turns out the social running scene in East London is alive and kicking and a crowd of hundreds had pitched for the race.  I use the word race loosely - its not a race, if you race you look silly - its a solid 5km over all manner of terrain including an epic moment along the crest of Bat's Cave.  It's free and a great opportunity for other people to see you being energetic and to complement you accordingly.

More information: http://www.parkrun.co.za/nahoonpoint/
Starts: 08:00 sharp every Saturday - be there by 07:40 to get a good parking.

Officially the worst photo of me running, ever.

Tomato Trot 2013

Best photo of me running ever, hows that tongue... photo used without permission from Action Gallery - https://www.facebook.com/actiongallery, sorry okes, found it on Facebook...

Saturday saw me put the books down for a few hours to join the masses for the 2013 Tomato Trot, one of the increasingly popular fun runs on the East London running calendar.

It took great restraint to not spend the 15kms complaining to those around me about the heat and hills - I'm not one for whining en route because lets be honest, we get ourselves into these situations.  I do enjoy the occasional encounters you have though, as you find yourself linking up with people travelling at a similar average speed.

One such lady, who was running a far more consistent pace than me, remarked while passing me up a hill that she probably shouldnt have done the Parkrun at Nahoon beach that morning.  I imagine this was done to hammer home the fact that she, a woman, had just passed me up a hill, in the sweltering heat, having already put down 5kms on the dunes.  Admittedly, woman don't really think like that... but all the same, rather than be impressed what I was really thinking was 'Are you out of your FREAKING MIND, you must be off your rocker to have run twice on a day like today".

It made me want to beat her, beat her for being loopy - you shouldn't win at anything if you're deranged.  Unfortunately, I'd abandoned all expectations of a good time at the 5km mark, and had resigned myself to making good on the water sachets by 12km - the goal was now making it home.  All competitive inclinations left wilting in the sun on the gravel road.

Update: You can download the results here,

Apocalypse

I didn't really buy into the Mayan apocalypse, seemed like a long shot... unlike modern day doomsday prophesies; "Petrol will be at R10 a litre by 2012....", "... JZ will be relelected...", "...your internet connection will soon die, for no apparent reason".

In doomsday theorizing, it seems we have twin axes; scale of disaster vs accuracy.  The Mayans certainly went all in on "Total world destruction", which is more catchy than "A tank of petrol will cost you R600 in 2012...".

Then who are these prudent, present day, petrol-price prophets?  Think tanks, government agencies, the press?  If they included a reference to an ancient tribe that was fond of angular buildings, would we take them more seriously?  Would the 9Gag world take hold of the, this time certain, disaster or would they all be at the petrol station filling up.

I've just noticed my work email inbox is at 19129 emails... I wonder if Microsoft will be able to handle the load at 21120?  Or will it be the end of my Outlook?  Outlook Apocalypse 2012.... coming soon to theaters "He never backed up".

Context

In the last days of our old company, our boss brought a guy in to try and rescue the administrative and leadership vacuum that existed.  His favourite advice was "Context, context, context".

Context is indeed a crucial lense through which life must be viewed.  For instance... imagine yourself hiking along the Transkei coast, sun baking down but you're kept cool by a soothing sea breeze, blowing over your unwashed, salty skin.  You reach for your water bottle, sip its refreshing contents, brush your brow and soak in the sandy beauty around you.

"Oh, wow!" you exclaim... "look everyone, a cute crab, at home in its natural environment".  A crowd gathers and observes the crustacean.

Scenario two...

You get home late'ish one night, after a visit to the Summer Camp site.  You missed supper... the Chicken and Pepperdew sandwich you ate at 8pm didn't do its job and you're scavenging for something to eat.  You find a packet of two minute noodles, and while they're cooking you find yourself lying on the couch.

You're lying still, but you can hear the couch creaking.  You notice but ignore it.  Minutes later, the creaking noise happens again, you are now  confused, having moved from a sub conscious awareness, to a front of mind curiosity.  You stand up... and freeze, mortified.

As if in a horror movie, you see a large set of legs, creeping slowly into the light over the bean bag.  You panic, you wonder how a tarantula got into South Africa, and then into your flat.  You reassess, you notice its more crab like, less spider like.  You panic again - crabs are just as bad as spiders (OUT OF CONTEXT).

Calm returns, you arm yourself with a broom, rearrange the furniture and evict your unwelcome housemate.