A Week of PTSD, My Guide To Running My First Half-Marathon & Finding Max Again…

Important Message from the Writer… LOL.

I posted my last article on my personal Instagram, and I got one inbox message that has been sitting with me and someone said to me that they are so sorry I am going through a hard time. The message was kind, and with no hidden agenda and I genuinely don’t do any of this writing and sharing for sympathy and to make my life seem ‘bad’. It’s not at all, and I know so many people compare their hard times with someone else’s and I have no intention to ever gain sympathy from anyone reading what nonsense I post. I was given a challenge, do the most uncomfortable thing you can think of - well, for me it’s sharing the one thing that never wants to stop: my mind. I always write, always have written, but I never posted it. This is that hard thing for me, to write and share. A lot of the time there are spelling mistakes, or it makes no sense, or you see something and think “What the fuck is he on?”. Well, that’s ok. This is my waffles of what goes through my mind and my release to cope with my life. I am not trying to make my life seem hard or communicate that I am going through the worst time, I share weird and wonderful experiences that I have (all of this is real) and sometimes I get this urge to write and share. This is my escape from life and my very personal “brain dump”. Sometimes I will bring something that brings you something, but most of the time you will just read a whole lot of “WHAT”, but this is just my little space - I’m not trying to achieve anything more from this, it’s just me doing what I am doing and sharing. For those who read it, just take what I say with a pinch of salt - it’s not always as dramatic as it can be, and I am ok. If you are really concerned about something I say, message me and say what’s up. If you don’t have my number, don’t pretend you know me.

Last week was a week for me - it was one of those weeks where it all happened. I feel like it rushed past and I needed more time to just “woah, calm honey”. I am a hectic over-thinker, I will over think the fact that I am over-thinking, and I have always been like that. My mind is a weird and wonderful place. I often sit with a notebook, iPad, iPhone and all ready to take what is happening inside my mind and put it on paper to work on it, not forget it, do the task at hand or deal with whatever it is… I often end up looking for another run to sign up for or add the ten-millionth item to Temu and never order. I am very comfortable to share my flaws, wrongs, mistakes and personal things. I don’t love it, but I must have a voice somehow and this is mine.

This year started in the most phenomenal ways for me, mentally I was in a good space and I was strong. Life happened when I left the calm and it all hit me harder than I wanted or planned for it, and it often gets me down. I have said “I can’t do this anymore” too many times, about too many things, never stuck to it and get annoyed with even writing this because THIS IS NOT ME. I hate this version of me because I’m the ‘Yes Man’. You need a car? Take mine. You need a lift to the airport in Hong Kong at 3am, I’ll take you! You can’t find your socks? Let me come find them for you. We need to launch a whole new product in a day. Easy, we won’t sleep… and no, it’s not chaos, it’s perfectly organised, filed and saved and all planned out adventures that I say yes to and do. I enjoy keeping my mind busy, it’s safer - it’s why I’m writing this at 1am on a week night..morning? It got bad, I hated it but couldn’t control it and because I am who I am, I won’t ask for help I’ll just burn out on doing it all. But that’s also ok. Also, I’m not sure if I am rambling on about everything because it’s relevant or if I’m trying to avoid starting the actual writing I intended to write because what am I even writing about. Last week… but also like the last year too.

PTSD.

A few months ago, I was being very rebellious and did something that was not very me but in the moment of being over it and just wanting to give the world the middle finger I bought a BMW. I had a mid-life crisis at 31, or an identity crisis or a cry for help, who knows. Long story short, I loved my BMW 116i and I spent a fortune on the car in the few months I had it but what I didn’t realise is that my problematic BMW caused an enormous amount of PTSD. This bloody car was out for me. I used to joke that I think it was sitting at the bottom of a river for 13 months because something was off, but I think that was me in the future because I was at the point that I was going to drive it into the river. I loved this car, but this thing started ruining my life and not just every cent I had. A breakdown - Drivetrain Error - was not something that I thought it was because the computer box needed to be repaired and the car was ready the next day. This was about my 4th breakdown in the car since ownership and I had run out of OUTSurance Tows so naturally, I drove it - hazards on - crying most of the time and then I’d run home or something fun and exciting like that. But my car is something way more than a car and I go manic when it’s not in the garage - I need my safety on 4 wheels around… Stephan goes into shock and panic mode, and I become the worst version of myself. Anyway, the last one I was different. It’s a Tuesday, error messages flying on every screen and I’m vaping in traffic outside of Mercedes-Benz Sandton with a car hiccupping - company branding on the outside, vibes on the inside. The car made it halfway into BMW Sandton service parking and I left it there, smiled as I gave them the entire file of my own documents and the keys and told the service advisor exactly what is wrong and what they need to check. Now, I had a feud with Mercedes-Benz Bryanston a while back and I sent them an email with BMW Bryanston in CC - Mercedes still hasn’t replied, and I had a little bit of faith in this blue and white badged nonsense because I found BMW’s service half-good. The car was in for a recall & my breakdown. Anyway, I got a call from BMW and they asked for half of my life savings to do a diagnostics on the vehicle and find the fault and I approved it.

A week later I got an email saying the car repairs will be R100,000 and a pdf document of the vehicles diagnostics report - something I gave them when I booked the car in, I can do that at home. No quote, no line items and no solution. Give me the quote please, I will go ahead with the service I just want to know what you are replacing. Crickets, like their other buddies. I go collect this car at BMW Sandton which I’m still not sure what it was doing there but Drivetrain Error on, a dent in the front from the BMW and me raging at the service advisor who barely could speak. BMW, I asked you to call me to discuss this and it’s been a while hey. Alas, I drove the car to WeBuyCars and sold it. I signed the form and felt a calm but sadness all at once. I didn’t want to buy another car; I was over it and I just didn’t want to. Imagine.

I sat that night and had 3 cars I wanted: BMW X3, Volvo XC60 & Mercedes-Benz C Class. I drove Stephan’s BMW and it had that noise of death for petrol or something and I almost had an anxiety attack.

BMW - you’re out.  I will never own one again.

Somehow, I landed up in a Mercedes-Benz and i just remember signing papers - doing an EFT that I had to verify myself 12 times and driving home in a Mercedes.

This car I had just bought was also the car I packed my bags into and drove on a rainy morning down to Thabazimbi to run a half-marathon and I drove through Bryaaaaaanston and I dialled Stephan’s number and wanted to take his car.

I was waiting for the worst, this car to leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere and I don’t want to sit alone in a car while I wait for someone to rescue me 2 hours away. I convinced myself it wouldn’t do two hours. It was horrific. I cried, turned the radio off to listen for noises, tried a nervous system calm podcast and drove about 60 in Eco with my hands so tight on that steering wheel that I didn’t know if I was going to be able to let go.

I got stuck behind two trucks for way too long and it was clear to overtake, I watched as every other car overtook me and the two trucks and I said fuck it, indicator on, foot flat, truck now approaching and made it in front of the two trucks.

I smiled and had my very nice speakers very loud without me even knowing when I arrived at another stop and go. I sent Stephan a message to let him know that I overtook two trucks. IT WAS THAT BAD.

I got to my destination calm, happy and surprised that I made it, no smoke - no engine light, just a really good fuel consumption, a really big wee and a very happy Max.

RUN.

In school running was the only sport I could actually do and it was one that I enjoyed, and I did not ever stop running but I never really tried because it was just something I did every now and then. Burnout led me to exercise which I became seriously into and committed to, and CrossFit was one, then I started really taking gym seriously and I went to the dark side of the gym to the weights and I really found myself seeing results and I love it, I’m not strong but I am getting stronger - slowly, pushing myself and trying to not let the insecurity get the better of me. I have been consistent with gym and I commit to it because it has really been good for me - but then came along running. I had an itch that I needed to scratch.

In December I found a pair of New Balance on Takealot and clicked order quicker than I could overthink it. I have never even put a New Balance item on my body let alone my feet - and I found the most perfect shoe I have ever had in my life. I started taking it seriously, Strava and all, and I found my peace - the time I spend running is the time I get to clear my mind, closing off thoughts and getting to place it together and I often end a run with motivation I wish I had earlier on in the day. 

My running is taken very seriously as with anything else I do, you won’t find half done jobs in this side of the world. I’m all in or not in at all. Shoes? New Balance. It will only be New Balance because they tick the right boxes, comfort - style and overall alignment to me. I have tried other brands, not the same and I’m very loyal to a brand… stares at my Mercedes Benz key plonked next to me in a sea of Country Road, Longchamp and Lamy.

Burnt has my heart - I even hate to admit it but I am obsessed - not with the brand but the product. My purchases of Burnt are to help the economy because they’re local, right? But seriously, hate it like I did until you try something on. It works, for me. My entire running personality is neatly packed into a Country Road bag, little bags holding different items of course.

MAX.

I signed up for the Marakele Marathon 17th edition, well the half-marathon because while I would 100% do the full, I decided to run with my sister-in-law, my running muse and founder of my Burnt addiction. 21km. Easy? The drive to her in my newly purchased Mercedes was the start of finding myself, maybe even the moment I overtook two trucks. 

I was nervous about this, obviously. I don’t have a run longer than 15km behind me, I don’t have a coach training me to do this, nor did I have the best time with my foot lately to get the training in I needed but there I was. I arrived at the registration with her, and I was smiling and calm. Shoulders not crunched up, no care in the world apart from the moment I was in. She usually gets a more stressed out and overstimulated version of me, but this time was different. We got ready for our little run together and she gave me the comfort and confidence I needed; she’s been there for me and my running the entire time - checking in, motivating, helping, engaging.

The morning of the run I was up at 03:00 and ready for this day just before 04:00. Overthinking about the fact that I can’t do it, but I was not going to escape this one… I wasn’t alone in it. Before I knew it I was looking at my feet below me running my first half-marathon, overwhelmed but ok. Without even thinking I looked down at my watch and was following my strategy of a certain pace for the first 5km’s and I was chuffed, chuffed because it happened so naturally. Until it all didn’t.

7km in and feeling on top of the world my left foot got a bit uncomfortable, so I stopped and took my shoe off and tied the laces better to fix the problem. It didn’t. I kept going. Slow. In agony. I walked a bit, hopped a bit and tried to adjust to get things flowing and moving. Deep in thought, I found myself doing it again but not the normal way. My foot was not co-operating in the plan of action and I made it to the half-way and stopped completely. A paramedic found me and said you don’t look ok, I wasn’t… my entire calf had gone tight, the pain was excruciating and I was not wanting to do anything more. They sprayed something on my leg and told me I should get a lift back. I contemplated it, tears rolling down my face and sweating like never before. I was ready, and I mean I was ready to give up and just go look after my foot that was in more pain than I could explain.

“Thank you. I am going to keep going, I can do it.” - I hopped for about 4km’s and then the countdown began and I somehow got my foot down to the ground and a pain was felt every time that foot hit the ground. 5.. 4.. 3.. I was sobbing. I said to myself a bit louder than I realised, “If you had to never be able to run again, you would regret this. Do it.” My watch buzzed and I saw 21km and fireworks. I kind of clapped for myself because I did it before the end of the race, but that was my achievement and that moment I felt broken, sore and like I just achieved greatness all at once. The adrenaline must have taken over because I didn’t know what was going on and I don’t remember those last few minutes.

I heard “Max ZEEEEER-VHOOGHAAAL” and saw my sister & brother-in-law waiting for me, cheering me on for that last moment and found a smile like I had never had before. I’m not alone. Messages came through from her encouraging me to keep pushing, and it gave me warmth even though I saw it late. I was chuffed, I did it in pain, pain that has me stillhopping around Hyde Park and wherever I go.

The pain got worse, sharper and more consistent. I got into my car - smiling at the star I was looking at and drove home as Max. I smiled as I waited in the stop and go’s, aircon on auto because I’m always hot, loud music played the whole time, and my foot went flat when I overtook a truck and I even let cruise control into the chat to do the rest. I smiled when the X4 overtook me and I moved over a bit when the no plates Hilux wanted to show me who the boss is.

I got home - hopping around with the biggest grin. I realise that had this moment been two weeks earlier, I would have given up and just not had the drive to try ever again. I would have given up, hated everything and avoidied the obstacles.

“I can’t wait to do that again”.

Max came home.