Finishing Comrades, Starting Other Things

I ran the 89 kilometre Comrades Marathon in 10 hours and 32 minutes.

This year, 12,952 people entered the race. 10,077 finished before the 12 hour cut off time. My overall position was 5509. In case you are interested, here is the breakdown:

 

Gun Time:	05:30:14	Overall Pos:	5509
Finish Time:	10:32:06	Gender Pos:	4834
Net Time:	10:32:06	Category Pos:	676

 

Split	Race Time	Time of Day	Overall Pos	Category Pos	Gender Pos	Dist. Done	Speed
Camperdown (62kms to go)	03:11:46	08:42:00	8810	919	7527	26.77	7.16
Drummond (halfway)	05:22:08	10:52:22	8335	882	7156	44.97	7.16
Winston Park (31kms to go)	07:00:21	12:30:35	7513	838	6501	58.27	7.21
Cowies Hill (18kms to go)	08:33:42	14:03:56	7189	818	6205	70.97	7.24
Mayville (7kms to go)	09:47:54	15:18:08	6061	737	5297	82.17	7.15
Finish	10:32:05	16:02:19	5509	676	4834	89.17	7.09

On the day of Comrades, I woke up at 12:30 am to catch the bus that would take me and my fellow Tzaneen Marathon Clubbers from Durban to Pietermaritzburg—the reverse of the race we would all be undertaking shortly on foot.

By half past four in the morning, almost all of the other runners were nervously milling around the start line. People occasionally would share with me a funny aside—in Afrikaans. Being nervous and in no mood explain myself, I would laugh and nod my head despite my utter incomprehension. Half an hour, or so, before the race, I found my way to the G section of the starting positions; “G” as in “A, B, C, D, E, F, G”. Runners presumed by race officials to be faster than me found themselves in sections A through F, while anyone deemed slower than me landed in the final section, H.

Due to the roughly 10,000 people in front of me at the time of the starting gun, it took 5 minutes to actually cross the start line and begin a slow trot. The first thing that I had to wrap my mind around as the sun crept up over the horizon was the massive scale of the flow of humanity that I found myself in. Ahead of me and behind me (though mostly ahead of me) stretched thousands of people, all of whom had the same crazy goal of finishing a 55 mile race. The greatest virtue of this, at least from my point of view, was the glorious distraction if provided. There was always someone to speak with and if speaking wasn’t a priority, the enthusiasm of the spectators was enough. Spectators were present in high numbers all along the route, which is a testament to the importance that Comrades Marathon holds for South Africans.

So think Big. Also, think Party, because that’s what often surrounded the race route. The alluring smell of Botswana beef and boerewors on the grill, various tunes blaring from speakers, and the cheers and singing of the party goers/spectators followed us all the way into Durban.

When I reached the halfway point of the race I heard over the loudspeakers that Stephen Muzhingi of Zimbabwe had just won the race, beating out the Russian born favorite, Leonid Shvetsov. Muzhingi ran the race in 5 hours and 23 minutes.

When I crossed the half-way point I was in what is known as a bus. Not the kind with wheels, but rather the kind that is lead by a seasoned marathoner who knows how to keep a specific pace. The guy leading the bus had a long flag pole attached to his back with a flag on top of the pole that said “Sub 11 hour”. He had designated certain times for us to walk, so that we could preserve our leg strength. When we were about to start walking for a few minutes, he would have us all count backwards so that we could stop in unison and avoid a pile up. He also shouted soothing words of encouragement to us as we ran.

When we started running again after a walk break, he would yell, “Everyone easy, easy now, slowly, slowly, 1, 2, 3, shuffle!” and off we would go. Slow and easy and shuffle are reassuring words to hear when you are running an ultra-marathon.

I found the bus immeasurably helpful. It was at about the halfway point when I started to lose a little steam and the bus helped to pull me along. Eating was also essential. I hadn’t eaten much for the first half of the race. During the second half I was seized with righteous hunger and took two handfuls of whatever food was available at each water point for the rest of the race. Candy bars, baked potatoes, PowerAde, cookies, oranges and gummy bears fueled me. People along the route (being South Africans) offered their own foods as well, like grilled meat and beer. I declined on the latter but readily ate the former when it was offered.

With a mere half-marathon to go, a little before Cowies hill, I bid adieu to the bus and took off at my own pace. After enduring the torture that was the second half of the Long Tom Marathon, I had vowed to start Comrades at a reasonable pace. Having done this, I felt the exhilaration of a second wind once the prospect of crossing the finish line felt real. For the last 20 or so kilometers, I felt great and spent my time passing people.

Crossing the finish line in Durban’s Kingsmead Stadium felt amazing. An intense feeling of relief was manifest on the faces of the runners sitting and lying on the ground. At least the conscious ones felt relief; there was a steady stream of people getting carried away on stretchers out of the stadium. The guys from the Tzaneen Marathon Club that I came to Durban with were at the stadium to greet me after the race, as were three fellow Peace Corps volunteers who had come to see me.

15 minutes after crossing the finish line I noticed that my legs were incredibly sore, though perhaps it is not so incredible that my legs were sore after running the equivalent of two normal marathons back to back. All 10, 000 of us had the same funny looking walk for days after. In the backpacker that I stayed in Durban directly after the race, my fellow Comrades were immediately identified by their painful hobbling down stairs and their contorted face when sitting down.

So, I am glad that it is over and I can hardly wait until I do it again. Worrying about my ability to finish the race is over and I can now focus more on other things. I am currently charged with creating a documentary about one of Tsogang’s water projects. This is something I’ve never done before but am eager to start on. The real trick will be showing Oros how to work the camera and use the video editing software. Once I learn how.

I am also heading to Cape Town next week with Rachel. It will be my first time in Cape Town and her first time more than 300 miles from home. Everyone says that going to Cape Town is like going to a different country since it is so different from the rest of South Africa. I will report back on that and anything else of note.

Thanks for reading.