One of the hardest things about moving abroad as an expat, especially with children, is to have to begin from scratch when it comes to sports and other activities. What you used to play/practice is often not offered in the new country, and beginning with a new activity can be difficult because you start out so far behind everyone else. And yet it's a good thing too.
The reason I haven't told you about gyms yet is that, ahem, I didn't go to any in South Africa. I was too busy living the expat wife life sipping cocktails in my chaise by the pool, I suppose. Actually, I'm just not a gym-goer, no matter where. The closest I got to going to the gym was when I signed Impatience up for winter swim lessons at Virgin Active in the Broadacres Shopping Centre.
Today is Thanksgiving, that most American of holidays, which means that right now around the United States men of all ages (and many women too) are gathered around family TVs to urge on their favorite football team, while delicious smells of roast turkey and sweet potatoes are wafting in from the kitchen. So I thought it's time I talked about... rugby!
I completed the 94.7 Cycle Challenge. As I was mindlessly pedaling, the question came to my mind: Was this easier or harder than climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro? I'm not sure. Summit night on Kili is hard. And there are factors beyond your control, like the altitude. But Kili is spread out over so much more time, with so many more opportunities to rest and take breaks. And, no saddle to rub you raw!
Just a few more days until the 94.7 Cycle Challenge, Johannesburg's big bike race. It might very well be the toughest challenge I've faced yet. But you know what might even be a tougher challenge? To pick up your racing packet before the race. Today was the designated day to do that, and so I went on an errand to Sandton, equipped with the race number I had received in an email.
You go to a housewarming party. The music is loud, and you have a few glasses of wine to get yourself onto that dance floor. You have some great conversations with a lot of people, some of whom you've never met before. You walk yourself home in a state of bliss way past one o’clock in the morning. Three days later, your friend asks: “Have you put in your entry yet?" Wait, what?
I like to be in reasonable shape. It makes me feel good. (And, as I've recently found out, it also helps when climbing a mountain). The problem is, what I don't actually like are gyms. It took me the longest time to figure this out. What I need is a Boot Camp. Not just any old boot camp, mind you, but the one offered Tuesday and Thursday mornings at Dainfern College.
We all worry about our sons. We stand there at the edge of the field, too nervous to sit. Eyes trained on the pitch. Furrowed brows. An occasional feeble joke to break the silence. Checking our phones to make sure we have the nearest hospital on speed dial. Jumping forward, yet restraining ourselves, when we see someone go down. We are the rugby moms.
What is netball? by Sunshine, age 9
Well, a net is something provided for a ball to go through. And a ball is what goes through the net. So my point is that the whole objective of the game is to get the ball trough the net as many times as possible.