I think I may be descended from a monk belonging to one of those Orders where they whipped themselves. Yes I know, vow of celibacy and all that, but you’ve heard the stories…
Back in 2008 I did the Sani Stagger 42,2km - up the pass and back down again, for those that are unfamiliar with this particular form of torture. It was terrible. I was begging bemused baboons watching from the side of the road to take me and rip my throat out. I vowed never to go back.
Now here I am sipping on 32GI Hydrate and working out pacing. Why? I’m doing the Sani Stagger Trail this time - 21km in those same mountains in 30 degree heat. And I’m 15 years older. I should know better but I guess it’s my form of whipping myself.
I have told the Old Goat that he must run his own race because he’s as strong as an ox - we’ll have to push him off a cliff when he’s 120 - but he says he’s going to run/walk just in front of me. This was always our modus operandi back when I could run better and it’s very handy for any snake-killing, rock moving or crossing of swirling rivers to have an Old Goat on hand.
So it’s into the fray we go, once again, hoping we both come back alive and still married.