Bang-Bang... Away with marathons.

Some things you do once, you do for the rest of your life; some you do a couple more times thereafter; and some you never ever do again. I have come across all of these, including the last when my moronic naiveté entered me into the Foot of Africa marathon, down in Bredasdorp in the Western Cape. Oh joy! I thought to myself as I looked forward to the 42.2 km challenge; I can’t wait to do a marathon! It’s going to be so exciting! Yes…

Skipping the introductory trip, I will take you to straight to the starting line. I was nervous, yet excited at the opportunity to try and beat my dad, an experienced runner. Furthermore, I wanted to beat my best time set the week before during a practise run. I knew the race was going to be very tough and long, but I still felt as hunky-dory as a paedophile in a playground.

The shotgun pellets pierced the sunny sky and we were off! Truth be told, it wasn’t as mind-blowing as you might of thought. More like 75-year-old women at the start of a hundred meter dash, without the use of walking aids. The first leg of the race was fairly social: people were chatting, and laughter was ripe all across the ever -stretching crowd of suicide partakers. By the half-way mark, I was feeling strong and thought that if I kept up my pace I was in for a great time, little did I know what agony and martyrdom lay ahead. As the race progressed past the 25 km stage, the effects of long-distance running set in, such as contracting muscles, dehydration and sore knees. Still I pushed on through, however the mental distress that I was facing was sinking in fast. I mean how demoralising is it to see men and women 40 years older than you come screaming. I’m sure they were giving me the ‘middle finger’ for the sake of their generation. Anyway, by the last 15km I was in misery, all made worse by the rolling tarred road leading to the finish. Mental exhaustion had set in, and it was soon going to be a complete breakdown. Dehydration was becoming a growing concern, even though I was guzzling water at every stand, the energy seemed to dissipate within a few metres of every sip. By the last 8km it had become a stop-start affair, where I’d walk for 10m and run for a few hundred. The physical strain was unbearable, yet it was the mental aspect that was the most excruciating. One’s body gives up before one’s mind, so keeping your mind in check is a skill in its own. This was not helped by the last stretch of rolling hills, which they should of dubbed  “the never ending f****** road”. Still I made it to the last kilometre where I must have looked as though I had just walked off the screen of Dawn of the Dead. I was on the brink of dehydration, my legs were moving but my head felt as though it wasn’t meant to be there. My vision had begun to blur, but I still managed to angle myself towards the Castle tent behind the finish line. All in all I felt like a vegetable, unhappy about what I had just put myself through, yet content that I had made it. I proceeded by flopping over like a dead fish on land.

The following day, still feeling as fragile as a rape victim, I began to ponder on why I had decided to do the race. I realised that it was for the challenge, the challenge of pushing your body and mind into something uncomfortable, something to test you, something outside the box. I had never done a marathon before and since my father had been through so many, and continues to enjoy them, I thought to give it a go. Mind you, my present outlook on marathon running is highly contrary to that of my dad.

The rush one might get at the thought of entering a marathon and accomplishing it only occurs before the race. Since the run, I have burnt my shoes, disowned my dad and melted the medal. I’m now on the brink of declaring jihad on marathons. Oh, and the Foot wasn’t even an ultra-run, which classifies as runs over 50km, which I’m sure are mainly entered by those in the loony basket.

Marathons are just hard; not fun, joyful, or a walk in the park. Government should ban them, laws should be written to stop the misery unleashed during these events. The UN should get involved on accounts of human suffering and self-torture. Desmond Tutu should pray against the madness. Madiba should disown the practise. Marathons should be locked away to rot and die. 

Thomas Mills

Blogged on

Eden Weiss

The blog ‘http://firstyearspread09.blogspot.com/’ is a compelling and opinionated one. Don’t be fooled by the comical pseudonym that this blog undertakes, it is political, thought provoking and enticing. There is a deep sense of passion and enthusiasm in the writing of this Blog. The contributors have managed to convey their feelings and attitudes through to the reader by simply using metaphors and intellectual methods of writing. This technique adds value to the blog and makes it more personal as well as coherent to its readers. A recent post by contributor Caroline King went under the heading, “Who decides what justice is nowadays?” She refers to the wave of criminal activity that has swept over the country over the last two decades. She feels that South Africa has lost its definition of justice. “Too many criminals get away with murder (literally and figuratively)” If there is one feature of a journalism student that needs to be credited for it is that of outlook. This has to be one of the highlighted elements of this online blog. The only aspect that the blog is lacking in is its appearance which isn’t all important seeing that the main focus is the actual content. All in all this chooses to be a well rounded blog which remains deserved to be read.

Has the Spread reached you yet?

First Year Spread (http://firstyearspread09.blogspot.com), the student blog that is “a fun, witty, exhilarating, light-hearted, tongue-in- cheek compilation of critical reviews on journalism-related media such as compelling novels, interesting newspaper articles, TV shows and news reports”, is exactly what it says.

 

Its posts have been linked well to recent events, both national and international. Even though these posts might not necessarily affect students in a direct manner, they do have some distinct correlation to student interests, whether it is music, politics or fashion.  The use of colloquial and direct language enables the authors to articulate their opinions well. What seems to be used quite effectively is the ‘question-answer’ method, by which questions are asked and are answered by them, whilst expressing their opinions. Furthermore, headlines are witty and attractive; through which they give you brief insight into the topic of the post, while still attracting you into reading it. All of these, coupled with the short but factual and opinionated length of the posts make a very appeasing read.

 

On the downside however, an attractive layout appearance is lacking. The overall look of the blog is quite simply, too plain. Barely any effort has been made to projecting the blog through a creative, eye-catching layout, including its name. More effort could be placed into the look of First Year Spread, which would possibly allow it to become a ‘complete package’. 

Journ Assasins (http://http://journassasins.blogspot.com/) is a ship lost at sea, lacking direction, posts and purpose. When first viewing the blog you will notice only 3 posts... These bloggers are profoundly good at expressing emotion, the latest post titled Escaping to nature is an excellent piece of writing. When reading it I found myself relating to these emotions of claustrophobia and exhaustion and almost wanting to stop writing my own post now and go find that same tree with "pink blossoming flowers that created an umbrella of beauty above." but fortunately I do not have to o to this sacred tree to feel "alone", reviewing this blog is good enough.

I found that the presentation of thoughts and opinion was very good, but when talking about an article surely one should give the reader a gist of what the article that the blogger is talking about, with either a hyperlink or a brief summary of the article. Oh and one of the comments for the post A Questioning of Priorities (a short to the point post about animal cruelty) is supporting this persons argument and uses a video that the commenter just watched of an animal being skinned alive, for the health of the blog i hope that this person did not watch the whole video.

I am quite certain when Shelly stated in her piece Shelly's Mission Statement that she agreed with peoples thoughts that she is unpredictable and one can never know what she is going to do or say the whole blog took on this sense of lack of direction or predictability and focus.

My First Time

Eden Weiss

There are certain ‘prerequisites’ for Rhodes University students in their short-lived reside in Grahamstown. These activities differ from visiting the Rat and Parrot to spending a ‘twelve hour straight’ afternoon in the botanical gardens, but one of the simplest, more enjoyable activities is to visit the Fort Selwyn Monument, at the pinnacle of Grahamstown’s surrounding hills, for sundowners with ones closest friends. I did just this for the first time last Saturday and it suddenly occurred to me why this was such a regular habit of past and present Rhodents. A few drinks, laughter and much free time are the perfect ingredients to end a lengthy day of lectures and tutorials. From the monument I could for the first time see the entirety of Grahamstown, which is usually regarded as the smaller sibling of other educational cities in our country. The walk up to the monument is the only drawback, being at an estimated 90˚ degree incline to unfit students; nevertheless it is the perfect excuse to have an extra glass of wine when reaching the void. I knew at once that this would be the first of many visits to ever popular local destination of Grahamstown’s students. I just need to build up the courage to walk up the baby sister of Mount Kilimanjaro and it will be the end to another wonderful day in Grahamstown.

Try not to do this at home!

By Sean Thackeray

Task: to take part in something I had never done before, no matter how stupid or dangerous and then reflect. This is what was said to us in an email by the Journalism Department of Rhodes University. Somehow I achieved placing the two guidelines (stupid and dangerous) into one momentous feet... Inviting myself to my handbrake/girlfriends house and ignoring her in every possible way for two hours. This neglect I am speaking of, involved looking her in the eye (this was extremely important), without showing a hint of emotion, flinching at the idea or efforts of any physical contact or collisions, and lastly not opening my mouth after almost uttering a disconcerting hello.

The results of my experiment/stupidity were quite astonishing, as my palms started to sweat whilst in the car with her on the way to her house, somehow she did not pick up at all that I had not said a word in ten minutes, this probably was due to the fact that over the 5km driven to get to her "pad" she had probably spewed out in the region of 1000 sentences. My plan was going perfectly until we were sitting on the couch watching MTV, she reached for my hand and my body jerked as if I had stuck my hand into a boiling kettle. This did not work in my favour and I presumed things would go down hill from here. Surprisingly this was not the case... and what happened next proved that the silent treatment always works, ALWAYS!!!

If I placed myself in her shoes, I would imagine that the person ignoring me was hiding something and was too scared to let it out. Well clearly that is not what most people think, my ears started to be pounded with confessions, "I am sorry for whatever I have done" and "why do you hate me so much?" (I am not sure how this last cannon ball dropped from the sky?)

After another hour of bombardment it was time for the young lass to give me a lift back to my residence, on the drive home after still not having uttered a word I was given an ultimatum: "if you do not tell me what I have done to make you this way then I am taking this silence as you breaking up with me." Needless to say I stuck to my guns and remained silent and started to think how I would make it up to her later. this escapade of mine proved that silence is the most lethal weapon of character destruction. But I do not recommend the flinching and please remember that if one should even consider trying this, make sure you have a box of chocolates and a bunch of flowers ready for the end of this dangerously stupid test.

In Order Of Appearance..

Eden Weiss
Digging deeper than 6 feet with Michael Jackson and Ted Kennedy...
The news media has been peppered with celebrity deaths over the last few months yet I feel the focus of the media has become impaired. I realise that the death of Michael Jackson is a major affair in the entertainment world yet I feel that there was too much focus on this so called ‘iconic’ figure. I became tired and frustrated with the constant coverage of Michael Jackson. The death of the US senator Ted Kennedy went nearly unnoticed after officially being declared deceased a mere few days after Jacksons. Kennedy the brother of the former U.S. president was a well respected man in his public circles, local and international. Granted he had some major accomplishments, I feel it perverse that all the focus went to Jackson whose last mention in the media was being innocent of molestation. Are we as young journalism student forgetting the basic moral attributes of idolism? Are we forgetting who the authentic role models are? It is time for the new generation of journalism students to impose honourable justification.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ben-cohen/ted-kennedy-resuces-us-fr_b_270701.html