This first week of training I managed three good 5km runs, and a challenging but hugely enjoyable +/-20km mountain bike adventure.
Slowly but surely!
Liz isn't here anymore
10 years ago
Sunday, May 31, 2009
What a weekend
Spent this past weekend in the Mpumalanga Highveld, near Dullstroom. We decided (with a bit of difficulty and a few pangs of guilt) to leave the monkey at home with her granny. And she had a great time while we recharged and had a bit of time to focus on emotional reconnecting :)The lodge where we stayed is a truly beautiful place. Each log cabin has a massive fireplace (we used a MOUNTAIN of firewood - temperature was below freezing at night!) and also has its own two mountain bikes - we had an epic journey of about 20km through and around the plantations on the farm. Two nights of uninterrupted sleep was a welcome bonus after a difficult monkey-sleeping-week last week. And I managed to read a whole book!
Emotionally and physically recharged, full of courage to face another long week at work...
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Big aspirations
My long-term running goals:
http://www.sevencontinentsclub.com/
http://www.northpolemarathon.com/html/20039.html
Sounds impossible?
Maybe, but I am a firm believer in the power of goal-setting :)
Entered the lottery for the 2010 London Marathon. Mmm... doing my favourite activity in my favourite city... having such a good excuse to visit my favourite city...
how much better can you get?? :)
http://www.sevencontinentsclub.com/
http://www.northpolemarathon.com/html/20039.html
Sounds impossible?
Maybe, but I am a firm believer in the power of goal-setting :)
Entered the lottery for the 2010 London Marathon. Mmm... doing my favourite activity in my favourite city... having such a good excuse to visit my favourite city...
how much better can you get?? :)
On the road again
Not a hugely important piece of info, but just to say that watching Comrades on TV Sunday was torture. Every fibre of my being wanted to be there, to be running, to be suffering, to once again experience the absolute indescribable awe of the event called the Comrades Marathon.
I think everyone that has ever been part of it knows the feeling.
And on Monday afternoon I was back on the road. Yes, the monkey will still be my first priority, and work will still be busy, and it will be difficult I KNOW, but maybe if I start now, next year's wish will become reality.
So sorry if you find it horribly boring, but from now I'll post a weekly update on how the training is progressing. :) And next year, 30 May - Comrades #3!
I think everyone that has ever been part of it knows the feeling.
And on Monday afternoon I was back on the road. Yes, the monkey will still be my first priority, and work will still be busy, and it will be difficult I KNOW, but maybe if I start now, next year's wish will become reality.
So sorry if you find it horribly boring, but from now I'll post a weekly update on how the training is progressing. :) And next year, 30 May - Comrades #3!
Thursday, May 21, 2009
These moments make it all worthwhile
I am a happy doctor. Most of the time I feel good about the career choices I have made up to now, and I am excited about what lies ahead. In the department where I work I often wonder whether I do not fit in, maybe just because I am too emotionally stable. I think I have a superb support network and my coping skills have always been able to get me through the more difficult times.
But on a call night, especially in mid-winter when the temperature in our hospital's outside corridors must be way below bearable, there are always those nagging feelings of doubt. They lurk in the shadows of the labour ward, comes floating out of casualties like the smog that covers the 'wrong side of the city' at night, and they enter your heart and soul like the icy fingers of a horror movie character... When you crawl into bed exhausted at 4am to attempt an efficient power nap (whoever invented that ridiculous concept!) and your feet are freezing (but you are too scared to switch on the 30-something-year old heater for fear of being electrocuted!) AND THEN
the phone rings...
That is when you need guts. Vasbyt. The will to win, the instinct to survive.
And, a "moment".
Like when the anaesthetist looks at the doctor doing the seventh C-section for the night and asks her: "What is going on, dr M? Are vagina's out of stock tonight?"
(I nearly fell over laughing!! At 3am this was seriously funny, especially as it is the standard excuse for everything not being there when you want it. Including life-saving emergency drugs, unfortunately. "Sorry dr, it is O/S!")
Like when the newborn baby gives his very first cry and the (usually extremely grumpy) scrub-sister looks up and yells "Happy birthday, baby!" with a smile that beams like the sun...
Like when the fourth year student phones you and asks "Are you the paediatrician on call" and you think "not until December 2012" but you say "yes" with so much confidence you almost feel like you are there already :)
Like the unnamed cameraderie and companionship you share with the other stethoscope-carriers walking the corridors in the early morning hours, just with a knowing look and a smile and a nod.
And then you open the door and you realise the sun is rising, you see the new day dawning in hues of pink and orange, you appreciate a sunrise so much more than a sunset and you stand still for a few moments
saying thank you for the gift of a new day
for the hope that comes with the first sunlight
for the end of another night of struggles
and for the wonder of new life that you were allowed to witness again.
But on a call night, especially in mid-winter when the temperature in our hospital's outside corridors must be way below bearable, there are always those nagging feelings of doubt. They lurk in the shadows of the labour ward, comes floating out of casualties like the smog that covers the 'wrong side of the city' at night, and they enter your heart and soul like the icy fingers of a horror movie character... When you crawl into bed exhausted at 4am to attempt an efficient power nap (whoever invented that ridiculous concept!) and your feet are freezing (but you are too scared to switch on the 30-something-year old heater for fear of being electrocuted!) AND THEN
the phone rings...
That is when you need guts. Vasbyt. The will to win, the instinct to survive.
And, a "moment".
Like when the anaesthetist looks at the doctor doing the seventh C-section for the night and asks her: "What is going on, dr M? Are vagina's out of stock tonight?"
(I nearly fell over laughing!! At 3am this was seriously funny, especially as it is the standard excuse for everything not being there when you want it. Including life-saving emergency drugs, unfortunately. "Sorry dr, it is O/S!")
Like when the newborn baby gives his very first cry and the (usually extremely grumpy) scrub-sister looks up and yells "Happy birthday, baby!" with a smile that beams like the sun...
Like when the fourth year student phones you and asks "Are you the paediatrician on call" and you think "not until December 2012" but you say "yes" with so much confidence you almost feel like you are there already :)
Like the unnamed cameraderie and companionship you share with the other stethoscope-carriers walking the corridors in the early morning hours, just with a knowing look and a smile and a nod.
And then you open the door and you realise the sun is rising, you see the new day dawning in hues of pink and orange, you appreciate a sunrise so much more than a sunset and you stand still for a few moments
saying thank you for the gift of a new day
for the hope that comes with the first sunlight
for the end of another night of struggles
and for the wonder of new life that you were allowed to witness again.
Friday, May 15, 2009
I confess I am guilty
Today, after almost 10 years of being a driver, I was in my first proper car accident.
Or to tell the truth, I was the sole guilty party in my first car accident.
BBBOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!
CRUNCH!
&*%^&#@!!!!
I do not know exactly where my mind was at the moment, because I had both hands on the steering wheel and eyes on the road, but obviously my brain was somewhere on a different planet... The cars waiting to go around the mini circle were standing all quietly in a row minding their own business (just have to say, there is not usually a queue of cars at this specific mini circle around 17h00 the afternoon) and here comes Mrs Sleepyhead in her huge car, over the crest of the little hill, probably around 50km/h...
and
BOOM!
When I realised that the car in front of me was standing completely still I was about 3m away. I did not even turn the wheel to attempt evasive action, just floored the brakes and felt how all my hair were standing on end.
Shame, the poor guy in the little Tata Indica.
Expletives poured from his mouth, think he was shocked beyond words (I would have been!) and I just kept apologising, shame, poor guy, surely he thinks I have lost it completely. He was SO extremely nice after the shock wore off, just kept saying sorry for his rude words...
A good learning experience.
Try to get enough sleep even if you feel a bit manic in the middle of the night.
Know what to do at the scene (what information to gather and how to stay calm).
Forgive the poor innocent victim for the string of #$%@! that he uttered.
And last but not least, remember how much worse it could have been.
I am not usually the kind of person who will laugh in a serious situation, but I could not help thinking my version of 'always look on the bright side'...:
Toyota Fortuner 1 - Tata Indica 0.
Or to tell the truth, I was the sole guilty party in my first car accident.
BBBOOOOOOMMMMMMM!!!!
CRUNCH!
&*%^&#@!!!!
I do not know exactly where my mind was at the moment, because I had both hands on the steering wheel and eyes on the road, but obviously my brain was somewhere on a different planet... The cars waiting to go around the mini circle were standing all quietly in a row minding their own business (just have to say, there is not usually a queue of cars at this specific mini circle around 17h00 the afternoon) and here comes Mrs Sleepyhead in her huge car, over the crest of the little hill, probably around 50km/h...
and
BOOM!
When I realised that the car in front of me was standing completely still I was about 3m away. I did not even turn the wheel to attempt evasive action, just floored the brakes and felt how all my hair were standing on end.
Shame, the poor guy in the little Tata Indica.
Expletives poured from his mouth, think he was shocked beyond words (I would have been!) and I just kept apologising, shame, poor guy, surely he thinks I have lost it completely. He was SO extremely nice after the shock wore off, just kept saying sorry for his rude words...
A good learning experience.
Try to get enough sleep even if you feel a bit manic in the middle of the night.
Know what to do at the scene (what information to gather and how to stay calm).
Forgive the poor innocent victim for the string of #$%@! that he uttered.
And last but not least, remember how much worse it could have been.
I am not usually the kind of person who will laugh in a serious situation, but I could not help thinking my version of 'always look on the bright side'...:
Toyota Fortuner 1 - Tata Indica 0.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
I love my job... do you?
This was a hectic week. And it is not over yet.
But I passed my diploma, and now I can (on days that I feel... well... 'braggy') write under my signature a double qualification. Oh, the feeble pleasures of the human mind... ;)
I also survived my Wednesday-big-scary-academic-presentation and the prof who supervised me (self-confessed OCD?) did not allow me to answer a single question afterwards - she did it all herself. So I don't think I really made any impression. And the topic was,
wait for it...
B O R I N G !!!
(sorry to the nerve-interested souls out there but neuro it NOT my favourite of subjects...)
I also survived my first few days in the new ward/rotation, working in general paeds now and quite surprised by how sick the kids get. SEVERE kwashiorkor especially - I haven't seen so many kwashi babies in a long time. It is scary.
I am missing oncology and missing the hugs and smiles and playful athmosphere, but I surprisingly get the feeling like I may actually enjoy the general ward. I haven't worked in general paeds in a long time (not since my Tembisa days).
I also got a introductory (practice) case to my research project that ended up keeping me busy for almost the whole morning. Interesting work, although quite morbid, but hopefully my reseach will actually make a difference, compared to many MMed research projects looking at figures and counting statistics but never really giving back to the patient population.
All in all at the moment I find my work to be satisfying, stimulating and rewarding. Not many people working on the wrong end of town can say the same! :)
But I passed my diploma, and now I can (on days that I feel... well... 'braggy') write under my signature a double qualification. Oh, the feeble pleasures of the human mind... ;)
I also survived my Wednesday-big-scary-academic-presentation and the prof who supervised me (self-confessed OCD?) did not allow me to answer a single question afterwards - she did it all herself. So I don't think I really made any impression. And the topic was,
wait for it...
B O R I N G !!!
(sorry to the nerve-interested souls out there but neuro it NOT my favourite of subjects...)
I also survived my first few days in the new ward/rotation, working in general paeds now and quite surprised by how sick the kids get. SEVERE kwashiorkor especially - I haven't seen so many kwashi babies in a long time. It is scary.
I am missing oncology and missing the hugs and smiles and playful athmosphere, but I surprisingly get the feeling like I may actually enjoy the general ward. I haven't worked in general paeds in a long time (not since my Tembisa days).
I also got a introductory (practice) case to my research project that ended up keeping me busy for almost the whole morning. Interesting work, although quite morbid, but hopefully my reseach will actually make a difference, compared to many MMed research projects looking at figures and counting statistics but never really giving back to the patient population.
All in all at the moment I find my work to be satisfying, stimulating and rewarding. Not many people working on the wrong end of town can say the same! :)
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Why do I run?
I have a lot on my mind and I need a lot of time to get it all out black on white, but for now it is 01h00 in the morning and I have just finished preparing for my first big post-graduate presentation due on Wednesday. I have also done my practical exam for the Diploma in Child Health this (yesterday?) morning, and I am also on call tomorrow. All in all consensus is that I really should probably be in bed now catching a quick snooze before the monkey wakes up for her early morning bottle (some mornings earlier than others). But I have had this thought that I have been wanting to share with the world. Maybe it sounds stupid or insignificant or just something to laugh at, but I have really been pondering/wondering about it...
Am I the only twenty-something nearer to thirty medical school graduate/ mom/ relatively "normal" person that RUN to the other side of the hospital when I am late for ward rounds / when there is an emergency/ when I just cannot take the S L O W walking pace of the rest of the world??
I honestly have to confess that almost not a day passes without me quickly (LITERALLY) running somewhere. In my working attire. Stethoscope in hand, clutching my bag, wind-through-my-hair kind of running. And at this relatively late stage in my life I suddenly came to the shocking realisation that I
NEVER
EVER
EVER
see anybody else running
ANYWHERE
unless it is for exercise (in running clothes... etc)
AM I NORMAL?????
Am I the only twenty-something nearer to thirty medical school graduate/ mom/ relatively "normal" person that RUN to the other side of the hospital when I am late for ward rounds / when there is an emergency/ when I just cannot take the S L O W walking pace of the rest of the world??
I honestly have to confess that almost not a day passes without me quickly (LITERALLY) running somewhere. In my working attire. Stethoscope in hand, clutching my bag, wind-through-my-hair kind of running. And at this relatively late stage in my life I suddenly came to the shocking realisation that I
NEVER
EVER
EVER
see anybody else running
ANYWHERE
unless it is for exercise (in running clothes... etc)
AM I NORMAL?????
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
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