Let’s begin at the beginning with this story. Why did I want to run the Comrades
Marathon? In high school, I was a “distance”
runner where distance meant the 800 meter, 1600, and 3200. (About ½ mile, a mile, and two miles.) I thought that the 5K cross country race was
long as I only ran in the fall to keep ready for winter and spring. I still like my track workouts but have begun
a true “distance” runner as a grown up.
In 2006, I got back to running and originally had my sights
set on getting back to a half marathon.
Did that by Labor Day 2007. One
thing led to another and I ran my first marathon in 2010. I thought that the marathon distance would be
all I’d ever want. Then, I read an
article in Runner’s World by Bart Yasso about Comrades and thought to myself,
if there is ever a race to run that would be it. I already had work colleagues in Durban where
the race either begins or ends and I could combine it with a work trip.
Years went by and I ran more marathons and I traveled around
the world. A year ago when my colleagues
in South Africa heard about my going a couple other places to lecture they said
I must return to South Africa to lecture.
I agreed as long as we could schedule it in the week before Comrades. That was the beginning of the planning. I registered in September. Ran a qualifying marathon with what seemed
like a lot of challenging hills in October, and started officially training
right after the first of the year with the same coach who had gotten me to
achieve my goal in Philadelphia in 2014 of running a sub-3:10 marathon. I’ve enjoyed worked with Shannon and we have
a very good rapport.
I dedicated this to my Grandmother. When she passed a little over a year ago most
of her resources were gone. With what my
mother received from her estate she shared some of with me and my sister. That paid for my training and registration
and a few other expenses along the way.
I may take my Comrades patch (received at the end along with my medal)
and leave it at my Grandmother’s grave.
In any case, the preparation did not necessarily involve a
lot more miles than marathon preparation.
Just more strategic use.
Particularly with respect to hills.
Lots of hard downhills before long runs.
So, I arrived in Durban late Monday evening, six days before
the race. Spent three days working with
colleagues and PhD students on research projects. Ate a lot of curry meals and a dish called
samp. Felt fine Thursday night.
Woke up Friday morning, 48 hours before the race and
something had gone wrong with my stomach.
Big time. I won’t describe in
detail, but let’s say, I could only eat a little, what I ate soon came out the
other end, and it was not pleasant.
Having that two days before a race is not ideal. I didn’t take anything as whatever I have
ever take for that tends to make my stomach feel like crap. But having small meals and probably not
enough liquid that day was not good.
Saturday morning, I woke up and felt somewhat better. Did my last shakeout run. Bought some Powerades to drink to get the
electrolytes back up. Went to an early
dinner which was spaghetti and meatballs (beef and lamb) with my closest
colleague. And got about 5 hours of
sleep.
Woke up at 1:30 after about four hours sleep Sunday
morning. I was getting picked up at 3
for a drive of about an hour in light traffic for a race that began at 5:30. Lots of people were driving early. Not surprising given 20,000 registrants for
the race and the 16,000+ who actual began it.
When I got there, I checked my bag with stuff for after the
race (very little of which I ended up using), put the sticker to identify the
bag on the back of one of my two race bibs, used the portable toilet, and
eventually entered starting area B. I’d
worked hard to qualify for starting area B, running a marathon in just under
3:20 in the spring.
In area B, I hung toward the back. I didn’t want to get swept up in a rush at
the start. When the organizers released
the ropes separating areas everyone pushed forward. I don’t think I have ever experienced such a
rush of people at the start of a race. Definitely
a different sense of personal space than at the start of races in the United States.
The starting line was by city hall in Pietermaritzburg. The front of city hall was lit with signs for
the major sponsor (Bonitas) and the Comrade symbol moving back and forth across
the face of the building. For much of
the time there was very loud music. Much
of it dance versions of US hits from the 80’s.
High energy. Lots of
excitement.
Then the South African national anthem in three parts—Afrikaans,
English, and Zulu. Then chariot of
fire. And finally the loud sound of a
fun with streamers. It took a little
time to get to the starting line (probably a minute) and we were off into the
relatively well-lit streets of Pietermaritzburg.
One interesting thing about the race. The official distance given in the final race
instructions was 89.208 km. In the
official results the finish was listed as 89.13 km from the start. Not sure what happened to the last 78 meters,
but whatever. But the key was the the signs
indicating distances along the way did not indicate the distance traveled but
the distance to go. It was like a
thermometer (kind of like fundraising goals are shown) that was dropping the
whole way. I kind of liked it that
way. It gave a sense of what was left to
finish the very long race. I missed the
first one and was pleasantly surprised when my GPS watched beeped at the first
mile. (Yes, I left my watch in miles because
it is just easier for me to think that way).
It had taken 10:18. But since
Comrades is gun to gun I wanted to know my time from the gun and not when I
actually crossed the starting line. (I would
eventually find out that I did get a “net time” in my results.)
The early going was beautiful rolling hills. It was warmer than much of the spring had
been in the United States but not summer pre-dawn warm. And it was dry. It was a pleasant run and the miles
passed. 9:11, 9:14, 9:04, 9:21,
9:05. All sitting in that sweet spot for
running between 8:30 and 9 hours total.
So far, on plan.
There had been a quick stop to pee along the side of the road
in the first hour and then a stop at a portable toilet at the end of the first
hour. My stomach issues were not totally
returning but I was concerned.
This was the first race where I used a run-walk
approach. My coach had suggested walking
up the steepest hills and walking the refreshment stations. I did minimal walking in the first couple of
hours. That may have been a
mistake. I’ll certainly have a different
appreciation for the importance of walking if I ever do an ultramarathon again. (The jury is out on that one but it won’t
happen any time soon as I know just what it takes and it was too much.)
Miles 8-13 were run at 9:12, 9:07, 10:00, 10:09, 9:22, and
11:27. I believe there was another stop
at a portable toilet in that mix. There
was also more deliberate walking through the refreshment stations. I was still on track to run just under 9.
Let me describe the refreshments. Not much food early on but
I used four of the six Stingers I was carrying.
(Little packets of a honey based mixture that provide 100
calories.) I drank Coke because it was
in cups. Then they had sachets of water
and Energade (the local equivalent of Gatorade of Powerade). They were challenging to break open. Sometimes, I used the water to keep
cool. Sometimes I drank it. I drank a lot of Energade. But I truly had to slow down to a walk to get
the things open and consume them without wasting to keep hydrated and have
enough calories in me.
The next seven miles were more favorable. Stomach issues were beginning to
subside. (The foods once they started
appearing at refreshment stations included banana, potato, orange slices (which
I didn’t take), chocolate (which I took once and found it stuck to the roof of
my mouth—bad move), and cookies. I liked
the bananas and potatoes as they were easy to consume. Moist and soft. And the bananas (from lesson one of child
rearing) help to bind you up when you have stomach issues like I had. Brilliant.
The times were 8:36 (took advantage of a downhill), 9:31, 9:17, 10:06,
8:48, 9:29, and 8:55. That put me on
track at mile 20 to finish solidly under 9 hours if I could hold it.
The rest of the first marathon was also okay. 9:56, 9:20, 9:27, 9:19, 9:29, and 12:24. That last mile reflected the first of what I considered
to be the really big uphills. I was
still on track for at least 5 minutes under 9 hours. And when I had passed the sign indicating 50
km remaining, I did think “only a HAT run to go.” (A local, trail-based 50K back home.)
My legs at this point had started to feel tight. I began to question. And my watch would only have so much more
time as the battery with the GPS going has only about five hours. The next hour was 9:29, incredibly 8:35 for
mile 28, then 11:49, and 11:18. 30 miles
in I was still just under 9 hours for total, but it was beginning to occur to
me that running the remaining almost marathon distance in the same time was
going to be more of a challenge than I had expected.
Also, it was warm. I wouldn’t
say “hot”. And I don’t want to blame the
weather for my performance. It never got
blistering hot. There was shade in many
places. And the humidity was low. But I had not done a lot of running at this
temp in a while.
Mile 31 was the last one that my watch captured fully at
9:46 and in the midst of mile 32, 5:09 in, my watch shut down.
It didn’t mean that I was without a watch. I had borrowed a watch from my most frequent
training partner and dear friend, Lauren, to bring with me. In the end, I don’t have all the rest of the
lap times as it seems to only show me the first 30 laps. But it did allow me to track and plan as I
continued. At mile 31, I was just within
holding 9 hours total. But I was fading.
Most of the early miles were on back roads. Kovin (my colleague in South Africa) had told
me that much of the course was the old way from Durban to Pietermaritzburg
before the “interstate” was built. So,
it’s kind of like PA 320 instead of I 476 near where I grew up. But as we got closer and closer to Durban we
moved to more urban streets and in several cases ran the on or off ramps and
the “interstate”.
While I was still a long way from having 25 km to go, I had
read about Fields Hill the night before.
It sounded like a grueling downhill.
With 31 miles down, I had about 39 km to go. I thought of it as four 10K’s. My only indication of splits at this point
comes from the report I got from the race.
Each runner wore a chip device and had to cross over mats at numerous
points along the way. I ran the first
16.52 km at 6:02/km. That was just about
what would get me to Durban in 9 hours.
I ran the distance from there to 31.55 km at 5:55/km. Enough faster to make me comfortable with
getting to Durban in 9. I ran to 45.57
km in 6:06. Then to 59.04 km in
7:05.
I’d stopped one last time at a portable toilet. The lack of toilet paper at a stop earlier
was no longer an issue. Apparently fewer
people used them further along. And now I was ready to push.
That is where I truly faded.
While the course is called “down,” every account notes that the first
half doesn’t really seem down. As I
described it was rolling hills. With the
ups never seeming that challenging and the downs just nice. The second half is definitely down but it can
be punishing on the quads and there
are plenty of ups that precede the downs.
With 59.04 km done, I had about 30 to go—or 18.6 miles. It was clear that I was not going to be able
go for the 9 hours. My legs were
tired. But I still had the goal of
finishing. And finish I would. And while I would not get the Bill Rowan
medal for finishing under 9, I could still get a bronze for finishing under
11. And under 10 would be great. In fact, some of the locals said that
finishing under 10 on a first try is considered very good.
The idea of a 50/50 run-walk for 18.6 miles seemed
crazy. I’ll never have the data to know
what I was doing but I do know this. I walked a lot of those last 18.6 miles. But covered the distance in about 3:40. What the human body can do is amazing.
When I got down to 25 km (15.5 miles), I thought to myself,
now it just five 5K races linked together.
I can do that. And so I
continued.
I did feel a bit hot.
I could tell I’d gotten a bit too much sun. The direction I was facing most of the day
protected my tattoo. The visor that came
in the goodie back protected my forehead.
I’d had sunglasses on most of the morning since the sun rose. But I got some extra sun on my neck.
One thing that was in the back of my mind the whole race was
that a colleague had suffered cardiac arrest on an ultramarathon run almost a
year to the day earlier. That was
sobering. But clearly, I survived to
tell my story.
I tried a nutrition bar at one point. Bad idea.
It was too hard to consume. I
tossed it.
I stopped at two physiotherapy stations. They rubbed in a local version of icy hot.
Several people along the way had handfuls or chunks of ice
to offer. I rubbed that on my head and
neck and arms. It is hard to say how good that felt.
At several points along the way I crossed paths with some
runners who changed “Keep running. Keep
working.” A call and response approach.
These guys also sang a song that Kovin told me was a traditional mining
song about a train.
As I realized I would not hit 9 but could hit 10, I thought of
a few things. First, it could have been
mental toughness. Second, there was nothing that Shannon could have done to get
me more prepared. Third, the number of
factors that determined how I ran—stomach, weather, first time consuming
considerable amounts of food and liquid during a race, first time with a
run/walk combo, and hills that one cannot truly appreciate from the map but
that are daunting—is large and I just have to accept. Fourth, I complete and that was what it was
mostly about. My honor to my grandmother
is complete. And finally, I did feel
joy. I was reminded of joy when there
were some ice cream salespeople along the course with their coolers that said “taste
joy.” I thought to myself, “feel joy”. And despite the tightness, despite not
meeting my time goal, I could feel joy.
Why? Because I had the ability to
have a dream, pursue a dream, and put down on paper why it is important to me
to pursue my dream.
Getting back to the race, I also played leap frog with any
number of other runners seeing them pass me and then passing them time and
again throughout the race as we each took our own approaches.
To 70.58 km (from 59), I sped up a bit averaging 6:57. To 82.67 km I averaged 7:21. That left just a little over 6 km.
When I got to five I had to think about what I wanted to
do. I would try to job the whole
thing. I could run-walk-run-walk-run or
I could just see. If nothing else, I
wanted to make sure to run into the stadium at the end.
So, I thought I would run from 5 to 3. However, there was the last refreshment area
and I slowed during the 4-3 km. I picked
it up and jogged from three to two.
While walking from two to one, I felt chatty. I asked on gentlemen how he was doing. And there was a woman named Amelia with whom
I had been playing leap frog. She had
one previous finish (you could tell from the bib). We talked about finishing under 10. She was one of those who told me that was
good. When we got to the 1 km mark, she
said “Go for it.” She didn’t have it in
her. I did. The closing took runners to the stadium,
about ¼ of the way around the outside, and then a good portion of a lap
inside.
And I was done.
Throughout, people had greeted me warmly. Names were on the bibs so runners and fans could
call me by name. Many did. Several,
seeing the blue indicating international runner and that I had zero medals
welcomed me to South Africa. Several
runners struck up brief conversations along the way.
I received my bronze medal and patch. And a flower.
And there were pictures taken like at the end of every big event.
Afterwards, I went to the International Runners tent. I must have looked a little dazed. I asked someone from the organizers where the
bags were. I got my bag, got a cup of tea,
and waited for Kovin. I wasn’t ready to
eat so we went out of the stadium.
Runners had to go up and down steps to get out. A cruel joke.
I waited while Kovin got his car. Went back to the hotel and showered. My pee was a color indicating moderate to a
little worse dehydration despite all I’d pushed into myself.
Kovin came back and took me to dinner. I had taken just a few extra moments to get
ready. I was moving slowly. Dinner was Italian. A camembert wrapped in phyllo with
cranberries on the side and a 30 cm flat bread focaccia with greens, parmesan,
pecorino, a little pesto, and Parma Ham.
I polished off the whole thing and drank about a liter of sparking
water. While we were sitting at dinner
we could see other Comrades runners in the parking lot. The gingerness of the footsteps was a dead giveaway.
I was more energetic at dinner than I had been any other
night during the week. Even Kovin
noticed. We talked about how “marathon”
is a bit of misnomer for Comrades since every other “marathon” is usually the standard
42 km distance. So be it.
My net time was 9:46:53.
My muscles still hurt like after my very first
marathon.
My 20-year-old sent me a message that my commitment to achieving
a goal is inspiring. Perhaps I helped
him to set his sights with a laser focus on his goal of becoming a
musician.
Not much more to say.
A wonderful experience on a course that does take runners through the
Land of 1000 Hills.
The race is advertised as “Comrades—it will humble you.”
Yes, it did.
But the humility has so many lessons with it. How to push onward. How to adapt. How to make the most of a
situation.
All these will be things I take with me for a lifetime. Along with the joy of the training and
preparation and anticipation and all the great friend, family, and fellow
runners who supported me along the way.
Quick afterthought--the old expression for brides in marriage goes "Something old/Something new/Something borrowed/Something blue." Well, I'm not a bride, but this was a transformational experience. I wore old socks. But they have brought me through many of my marathons and remain my best pair of running socks by far. The new was the visor. The watch that was on the whole time was borrowed. And the blue--my international number. (Can you tell I like symbolism?)
And my Romans 12:12 from before the race--I rejoiced in hope. The hope of finding more important goals and dreams and being able to chase them. I endured in affliction--the affliction of very tired muscles. And I persevered in prayer of being able to finish and get on with all the other important things in life.
And a final post-script--no chafing, all toenails in tact, no blisters. One victory.
Absolutely final--always keep moving ahead.
