Cape Flats people, I have questions. What is this running for fun and fitness thing all about and how did we as a people get here? Every weekend there are crowds of you hitting the tar. I understand that petrol is expensive, but sjoe! writes Gasant Abarder.
Abarder, who recently launched his book, Hack with a Grenade, is among the country’s most influential media voices. Catch his weekly column here, exclusive to Cape {town} Etc.
Growing up on the Cape Flats, one was conditioned for fright and flight. You were either running to catch a train or running from a vicious dog. And running from the police.
Our increasing need to turn into a people who run for fun is leaving us at a disadvantage. And as a consequence, the Gen Zs we’re raising simply do not have the conditioning to run from danger.
Take the kid who was attacked by a baby seal at Clifton Beach last week. He should have run away. But instead, he ran in circles and within biting distance of the little critter. It would never have happened if he had my upbringing.
I can just hear my mom’s voice had I even had the vague thought of playing with that baby seal.
“As daai ding vir jou byt dan kan djy jouself blerrie hospitaal toe vat. En dan gee ek jou nog ’n pakslae ook daar boonop! (If that thing bites you then you can get yourself to bloody hospital. And then I’ll give you a hiding on top of it!),” she would be sure to have said.
I’m not exaggerating about running from danger. I was six years old and living in Lentegeur, Mitchells Plain, when SADF armed troops marched down our street before unleashing hell on youngsters playing outside during apartheid’s darkest days in the 80s.
I was safely inside at the time but peeked out the window and saw my brother and sister and their friends literally running for their lives from rubber bullets, tear gas or arrest. For most kids during those times, both parents worked and we were latchkey kids – cared for by older siblings or the aunty next door until mom and dad got home.
In my first year in high school, I ran daily from a bully when school dismissed.
These days the danger is less clear and present. I was rearranging my man cave the other day and there was a white thing in the corner when I moved a locker around. I wasn’t wearing my specs so it looked a bit like a rodent. I don’t do rodents. So, I fetched one of the cats. When it wasn’t interested I took a closer look and it turned out to be a hardened piece of roti dough my baby daughter had left there for me as a gift!
My first instinct was to run. See where I’m going with this?
It is probably for this reason that kids on the Cape Flats are faster than most over 100 metres. The sound of a starter gun at the school athletics meet sets them off to literally run the race of their lives. It may be different triggers for others. Like those folks who ran from the pool when the two black kids jumped in.
So, when the weekend warriors, many of whom have now moved to the suburbs from the Cape Flats, run for fun it is rather perplexing for me. Who are you guys running to? Or more, pertinently, who are you running from? Unprovoked! One would have thought you wanted to give the running a break given our upbringing.
I have a cousin who is setting the running world alight. He seems to have been in the front of the queue when the running genes were being handed out. Ashraf Orrie from Plumstead ran 100km in a single day in November last year. It was the fourth time he pulled off the feat and he is the toast of the running community.
I wish I could say it runs in the family. Pun intended. I battle to drive 100km.
But here’s the thing. It does give me great pleasure too that my people can now run as part of living a healthy lifestyle and not from danger. There is a running event almost every week and the pastime has grown dramatically.
It’s social and a great way to meet people. If being out of breath and sweaty is your thing then you’re likely to meet many matches. It would be a bit subtler than finding a tinder match. But sometimes, as a lawyer friend of mine pointed out, social running clubs also cause a fair bit of divorces because of infidelity.
Whatever gets your engine racing. I may not get it. But I’m all for running if it leads to more people adopting healthier lifestyles and looking after their well-being. But you’ll find me over here – watching from the sidelines!
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