parkrun

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Mentors Country Estate parkrun

Date: 7 March 2026
Distance: 5km
Time: 37min

During the flight from OR Tambo to Hong Kong with my mother’s ashes in the overhead locker, I reflected on our three week trip to the motherland. It was tough.

My mother passed away on 3 October last year at the age of 87. For the past 16 years she lived in a house we owned. Being so far away it was the best we could do to try and help her. Fortunately I still have an older brother and sister who could be more hands-on with the day-to-day needs. Providing her with a place to stay may well be a subconscious way to ease the guilt of us moving so far away.

The past number of years she became increasingly frail. On and off she stayed with my brother 700km away, and the past more than a year, she was with him all the time. 

Even though our house stood empty for the best part of two years, nothing happened; no squatters, no burglaries, no vandalism. We all needed some time to process the death of our mother, so thought we can just carry on with business as usual until July when we planned to go over and start sorting out her things. Unfortunately this all changed on Christmas eve when all the outside copper pipes were stolen from the house. This was followed by another event where the copper wire leading to, and inside my mum’s pottery kiln was severely damaged and stolen. The other issue was that my brother was still paying the rates&taxes on the property (to keep the power on for the alarm to work), which was really just a waste of money. We had to do something urgently.

We quickly made travel arrangements and by mid-February we were on our way, this time flying via Hong Kong. The quickest route, and the one we’ve taken the past five or six times, is through Australia. But we’ve never had much joy with Qantas, and the last time was a nightmare to put it mildly. Every trip without fail, our luggage stayed behind in Australia (the connecting flight allows too short a turnover time), the food deteriorated with each trip, and arriving back in Wellington at 1am is just plain nasty. On top of it all, the shuttle bus to long-term parking in Wellington didn’t run during the night, and we had to walk the 2km in the middle of the night. Luckily that changed a few years ago.

This time after four flights we arrived tired, but without any serious issues, and immediately set to work. With the help of my brother we spent the first week chasing copper pipes into the bricks and mortar. Gerry did most tof the hammering, my brother the copper pipe soldering, and I finished off plastering and filling up gaps. After four days, we had water in the house again, and could start with the clean up.

In short, we had to go through and clear out all my mum’s things. Eighty-seven years worth of belongings which she meticulously saved and looked after. I was keen on some fabric and yarn to use in an upcoming exhibition about the circle of life and death, but couldn’t take much as we only had two suitcases with a limit of 23kg each. The one thing mum said I could have was two 1930s rocking chairs, but short of paying a fortune to get it to New Zealand, I had to let it go.

Most of her things ended up donated to charity, a handful of things were sold, and the rest went to recycling and the rubbish dump. Such a sad and terrible thing to have to do. I discovered mum’s wedding album, grandma’s birth and death certificates, granddad’s identity document, and the list goes on. Just sad.

With no good reason to keep the house any longer, we were also keen to try and sell the property. I fashioned a hand made ‘for sale’ sign which we stuck on the gate. In case. Agents came around, potential buyers started walking through while the place was in shambles. Stuff everywhere, tools, cement, paint, coupled with a house that wasn’t lived in for more than a year, it looked terrible. One of the people popping in to look around, brought his wife a couple of days later to have a look, and another few days on they brought their daughter. The place needed a lot of work, the garden was in shambles, but it was still a decent sized plot, with two separate dwellings; one the main house, and the other a studio. It has a lot of potential. But beggars can’t be choosers, and we had to let it go for far less than what we might have been able to sell it for if we had the time to get things in better order. But time was a luxury we didn’t have, nor the money and ended up just being relieved to have a buyer.

The end of an era. A heartbreaking experience.

Before we left from NZ I had grand plans to go for walks on the beach with my sister and brother, but the only thing we did was work. From sun up to late every day, work. Luckily my brother could get leave, and with my sister on pension, we spent the evenings together. During the days we worked together.

Our last Saturday morning in SA we decided to treat ourselves to a quick parkrun. I didn’t have running clothes so thought I’d just walk. Working with dusty and old documents meant that hay fever was a constant struggle for me and I ended up taking far more antihistamines than I would have liked, which didn’t help my cause. Getting some fresh air was much needed, and to celebrate the ‘offer to purchase’ that was signed the day before, we went for it.

During the night the wind picked up. It was blowing a gale and the noise from the trees and corrugated iron rattling meant I was awake a lot of the time. We got up, had red bush tea and a pear before driving to Mentors Country Estate about five minutes away. It was still windy, but not as strong as during the night. Also, it started to rain, and there was a nip in the air. Not ideal conditions for a first outing since before Christmas.

Mentors is a large, privately owned wedding and accommodation facility located on the side of town near Jeffreys Bay, with the windfarm next door.

We arrived shortly before the start, and standing in the cold wind and spits of rain, I was contemplating our ‘bad’ luck with the weather. Apart from running shoes I didn’t really have appropriate clothes to wear for a run, so donned the nearest thing that is not a pair of jeans. Since the weather wasn’t ideal and looked even worse on the horizon, we decided to start with a jog in the hope of warming up a bit, and getting it done quicker. My baggy hippie-type pants turned into a sail catching a lot of wind. In the right direction, it could have counted in my favour, but it felt like nothing other than a handicap.

The idea was to jog slowly until I couldn’t anymore and then just walk to the end. But leg-memory seems to be a thing. We ran at a seven-plus minute per kilometre pace which turned out to be attainable, and I could keep going until the end.

The course is a short lollipop with two laps of the round section, off-road in a nature reserve. Lots of volunteers were on the course encouraging runners and walkers. Having a double lap of the one section meant they had a short course (3km?) as well as the full parkrun 5km distance. We were 99 runners and walkers, and being a flattish course and a loop, meant we could almost see everyone out there. In the distance we also saw some Blesbok and ostriches.

At the finish, coffee and snacks could be bought from the gorgeous stone and thatch roof venue. Water with lemon and mint were provided and the sheltered area meant a lot of participants were just relaxing and catching up. We bought a coffee and sat on the porch with a beautiful view over the farm thinking about life, death, running, and survival. A nagging concern that our upcoming flights might be cancelled (due to war and ultimately greed) and that we might not be able to get home, were thoughts I was trying to avoid.

Afterwards we went back to the grindstone to finish off the remaining things that had to be done before flying back super early the next day.

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Woodbridge Riverside parkrun +

Date: 15 June
Distance: 5k
Time: 00:31.25

Traveling by air is a waiting game. Just sitting around and waiting … waiting for flights, waiting to board, waiting to take off, waiting for food, waiting to get an innings in the toilet, waiting to land, wait, wait, wait, is exhausting at best.

I am less and less keen on the thought of crossing borders, simply because border control is a real pain in the arse (plus I am a bit of a nervous flyer). The whole ordeal is stressful. But to see other places around the world and experience other cultures and environments means you have to suck it up. Alas, it doesn’t get any easier. On the contrary. But I do love traveling around, or touring, by foot or car or even train. Walking from place to place for months on end would be my first choice.

While in Perth for the Aussie science communicators conference where Gerry will be giving a talk, we decided to do some events and see a bit more of the parks in and around Perth on foot. The one event would be a parkrun the morning after we arrived (sounded easy enough), and the other the Transcend 40km walk on 22 June, all going to plan.

But often things don’t work out as planned. There will inevitably be hiccups. For instance, the second flight from Melbourne to Perth was delayed. No surprises there. What was already a very long day, starting shortly after 6am in NZ, and ended at 11:30pm in Perth (3:30am NZ time), was also somewhat eventful. Arriving later than planned in Perth, we discovered that the car rental company who delivers cars to the airport, doesn’t deliver after hours. Should have read the small print. We took an Uber to the car rental, and were dropped of in the dark at night to a deserted industrial area. I was suspicious of everything that moved and didn’t move. They were meant to send us details for after hours pickup, but somehow that email slipped through the cracks. After about twenty minutes of cussing and cursing in the dark in the middle of nowhere, Gerry searched his emails again, and luckily found the email containing the details about the lock box that held the car key. Crisis averted. And thank goodness for roaming. What did we do in the days before smartphones.

Arriving at our Airbnb accommodation after 10pm, where we had a room in a house shared with others, it turned out one of the other residents took our key from the, yet again, lock box outside the house that is used for self check-in. Again, cussing outside, we had no telephone number to contact the host, or anyone inside the house. The house looked dark and we thought that everyone was asleep and didn’t want to make a racket, but Gerry knocked anyway. Eventually one of the occupants, the lady who took our key, opened the door and handed us the key. It would appear she had some or other safety concern – I battled to understand what she was on about. Had we arrived even later, we might not have been able to get inside. But everything worked out in the end. A miss is as good as a mile, as my mum always told us.

And here’s a funny thing; when you fly from NZ to somewhere in Australia, via Melbourne, your luggage cannot be checked through from A to B. Melbourne airport rules dictate that you have to collect your luggage, go through customs, and check it in again for the local flight. Maybe it is the same for any international to local transfer. But for some reason NZ doesn’t know this. It is the second time this happened to us (I forgot we had been in this situation before). We very nearly went for coffee at the nearest cafe, thinking our luggage is checked through to Perth, while all along it was going round and round on the conveyer. Should I be telling anyone at NZ airports that this is the case?

And to top things off, Qantas must have left our luggage outside in the rain in Wellington, as when we opened the suitcases, everything was wet. So excuse me for having a wet panty about air travel and customs.

Exhausted, but finally in bed, we had a surprisingly good sleep. Short, but good.

Perth has a lot of parkruns (19 if I’m correct), and we had five to choose from all within an 11km radius from where we stayed. This one, following the John George Trail, looked the best from the online photos, so we made uncommitted plans to do it. Bearing in mind jetlag, super late to bed, and no food whatsoever with us, apart from a few bags of rooibos (red bush) tea, which made it through customs. And incase you think I’m a rooibos tea fanatic for bringing no other edibles than rooibos on this trip, it was by accident that I had it. Everything happened last minute (due to a hectic schedule, coupled with an inability to make decisions), when I grabbed the small back pack I use for work as my hand luggage bag, which happened to contain some rooibos tea bags in a small ziplock.

When we woke up at 6:30am I somehow didn’t feel too knackered, so we had tea, got dressed and went to the parkrun. The sun was out, no wind, and only slightly cool. But a t-shirt and vest was enough for me, while most of the other runners were in shorts and t-shirts only.

The welcomes and announcements were made (poking fun at the kiwis for being a bit slow? As an expat I’ve never been able to fully understand the banter between Australia and New Zealand) and we were set off. The course is sealed and in a lollipop out-and-back shape; about 2km out, a 1km loop, and 2km back on the same path.

I was hoping to make 30 minutes, so was going out at a pace just shy of 6min/km. Quicker than I have run in about a year. I can honestly not remember when was the last time I could manage a 6min/km pace. I was obviously running too fast, I knew that, let alone continuously for 5km. My muscles felt tight – like they might tighten up and not release again, sending me flying. For the first two kilometres, I lifted my feet extra high and concentrated extra hard to make my legs work. It did cross my mind for a fleeting moment that a longtime family ailment (unidentified and undiagnosed) had finally caught up with me. Both my sister and brother have this thing where their muscles would completely freeze whenever they try to do something repetitive quickly. Neither of them can run, or swim, or do any sport. By the second step they try to take, their muscles would just contract and not release, rendering them incapable to move. At a normal walking pace, they are fine. We’ve collectively self-diagnosed it as a form of the fainting goat syndrome (myotonia congenital), for lack of knowing what it is. We’ve jokingly said that my mother wrapped then up too tightly as babies. And by the time I came along, she was more relaxed about the newborn.

I managed 2 kilometres at a sub-6 minute pace, but then the wheels came of slightly. I covered the next two kilometres at just over a six minute pace, still on track for a 30 minute finish at a push, but in the last kilometre I was brought to a halt and had to walk for a bit.

I contemplated my situation. The last food I had was shortly after lift off from Melbourne, some 15 hours ago (felt like days ago), which likely had something to do with it. Coupled with jetlag, I just couldn’t make myself go faster.

But the scenery helped. The park is beautiful; the track next to the Swan River, with eucalyptus, oak, wattle trees with patches of green open spots. All along the run we were accompanied by the sound of moaning ravins and chatty green cockatoos. After a short slow walk, I could jog again to the finish, but obviously missed the 30 minute goal.

It was the 402nd running of the event, with 224 participants. There’s a cafe (which supply all the volunteers with free coffee), playground and more. It’s is a gorgeous parkrun. The locals must be thrilled to have it in such a beautiful place.

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Sasolburg Stadium parkrun, followed by the Palmy parkrun

Date: 13 August 2022
Distance: 5km
Time: 28:15 (Gerry, 28:18)

Our final parkrun in South Africa during this visit was on the morning of our long commute back to NZ. Gerry’s mum and sister lives on the way back to the airport, so we got to quickly see them again for final goodbyes. Gerry’s nephew joined us for the run.

It was a beautiful warm morning, and as we were walking the almost 2k from where we stayed to the start, I could smell the scent of jasmine, which normally indicates that spring is in the air.

Due to SA being a semi-arid country, the hazy brown dusty layer that covers the country makes it look like the air quality is super bad, but it’s no worse than the big cities in other parts of the world, and usually makes for beautiful sunsets. Long before the sun sets, it is possible to look straight at the huge orange ball on the horizon.

As with the Inibos parkrun (only the 11th event), the Sasolburg Stadium parkrun is also reasonably new (this was it’s 18th run).

It starts/finishes at the Sasolburg Stadium, (DP de Villiers Stadium) and Sasolburg Rugby Club. According to the web, the ‘course is run entirely on trail paths. Some sections of the course may accumulate mud, leaves and puddles after rain.’

I was still tying my shoelaces when we were counted down for the start. After a couple hundred metres, Gerry’s nephew came past and disappeared up ahead.

We passed some runners and soon settled into a reasonable pace. From the clubhouse the course takes one out of the stadium for a 2k off-road loop before passing near the clubhouse and across the sports field for another loop of about 1k in the opposite direction. Back near the clubhouse, we had to repeat the first 2k loop before finishing in front of the clubhouse again.

Running with me, Gerry finished 17th overall (15th male and second in his age category), and I finished 16th overall, second female and first in my age category, out of 99 runners.

We walked the 2k back for some eggs, a shower, and final greetings and packing.

It has been a good month. I’m glad we made the trip. The visible ageing of our mums is sad and unnerving. During the month, shortly after we arrived, my cousin four years younger than me, had a massive heart attack and died, leaving behind a husband and teenage kids. The day before our return to NZ my mum’s older brother had heart failure.

Maybe I’m imagining things, but a lot of South Africans seem depressed, and are on some or other medication. There are even pharmacy vending machines everywhere. The mental shift from what was and what is, might be a tad too much of an ask for some. As with emigrants, there are people who tend to cling to the past, who try to recreate what they had before. Change is inevitable, and necessary. However, the identity crisis (existential crises) is a huge part of the problems in SA. Who are we? Where do we come from? People were brainwashed into voting for a government that only looked after its own kind, due to a belief that the land was promised to them by God. Deep rooted beliefs suddenly mean nothing and boys who fought in the war, suddenly realise it was all for nothing, or no obvious purpose? No wonder a lot of them goes off the rails with PSD and other mental disorders. But this is a subject matter for another day.

It is sad to leave, but I’m glad to be going home. And well done to the ABs for winning their second match at Ellis Park!

A week later, stil trying to get into the timezone of New Zealand, we decided to do the Palmy parkrun to see if the altitude makes any difference. Of course it makes a huge difference, and we managed a good run without feeling like our lungs want to fall out. I managed a 27:11, and Gerry was just cruising with me.

Egweni River Lodge parkrun (Parys, Free State)
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Egweni River Lodge parkrun (Parys, Free State)

Date: 6 August 2022
Distance: 5km
Time: 29:29

Another family outing, this time with Gerry’s mum, sisters’ families and kids, and their children (four generations), brought us to Parys (Paris) next to the Vaal River. According to Wikipedia ‘The name was given by a German surveyor named Schilbach who had participated in the siege of Paris during the Franco-Prussian War and the location next to the Vaal reminded him of Paris on the River Seine. The area of Parys also includes the two townships Tumahole and Schonkenville. www.parys.co.za‘.

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Brandkop parkrun

Date: 30 July
Distance: 5km
Time: 28:26

I guess we’re starting to acclimatise to the Free State altitude of 1500 metres. Although I didn’t manage another female win (still giggling about that one) I managed an improved time of 28:26 (28 minutes being particularly apt since this day also marked our 28th wedding anniversary).

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