Lobsterman's executive summary: Keith and I cruised through the Comrades - this was the furthest I had ever run - and it was pleasant - yes, you heard right - just plain pleasant, we were in control from Pietermaritzburg all the way to Durban, physiologically in balance, we ran at a very even pace, with slightly negative splits and i could not believe how much i enjoyed this...
long version:
six months of training:
running the Comrades marathon, 90K from Pietermaritzburg to Durban, South Africa, on june 16, concluded one of the most remarkable six months of my life. Last year, I began thinking that it might be a fun thing to run this race and as long as it was still just a distant, faint notion, this sounded like a good idea :-). So, big-mouthed lobsterman started talking all over the planet about his plans and before I knew it I was in a virtual training partnership with dead runner, joburg-based Keith Binge to prepare for this event. the closer the date came, however, the more ridiculous and preposterous my plan began to sound ...
Specific training for the C began last november and it was basically trying to get as many kms into my legs as possible without having the body fall apart on me. This turned out to match very closely a program developed by Don Oliver of Mr. Price's Rockies, a program which keith attended and which he shared with me. To make a very long story short, we ran 2000+Km between november and middle june, I lost 11kg, I had 16 training runs longer than 35K - the longest being 60K - I shared some of these runs with you over these months and, you may remember, none of them were dull :-). My body was responding well to all this training as I bettered my 10K personal best by more than 4 minutes as part of a half marathon :-) and improved on my marathon PB in a very easy training run. i knew this was it - if I cant do it this time around, then I will never be able to make it.
These months involved some of the most intense focus that I have ever dedicated to anything and the daily encouragement and support from my sweetie Mooi and my VRP buddy, Keith, were essential for pulling it off. Messages bounced back and forth between Keith and I, often several times a day. On many instances we pulled each other back from the edge of overtraining, we kicked each others lard asses when one slacked off, dragged the other through bad patches and believe me each one of us had several, we dampened excitement when training became unsustainably excessive, and an exchange of notes on long runs helped to clarify our requirements with regard to salts, sugars, foot wear, stretching, etc. - by the time I left for SA more than 255 messages had accumulated in my mail trays and I felt I had found a true soul mate despite never having met him in real life. On the plane to Joburg where i would finally get to meet him personally, i was nervous like going on my first date :-) - it turned out absolutely wonderful, from the first moment on we chatted as if we had been pals forever, I enjoyed hanging out with him and his family, we cooked, we laughed, we played soccer, we went to the rec center and after all those months of talking about running, Keith and I finally had some real runs together. Although it was time to taper, we ran all his regular routes - at Sun City, around Joburg, around Fourways, and even the time trial at his club - our strides were in sync, running with him I easily found into my long distance rhythm, and time and distances just flew by.
In terms of strategic plans for the race, we decided to stick together during the comrades - no matter what. Keith's average pace is a bit higher than mine and fearing that I would be the dragging anchor, I decided to try to cling to him like a cheap pair of underware :-). The main strategy was to stick with whatever pace I could do while keeping my heart rate around 145. with all the details worked out we went down to durban for a last weekend of rest before the big day...
the lead-up to the race:
After registering at an immensely overcrowded expo, Mooi, Keith and I headed out again as fast as we could - paranoid to avoid crowds in fear of catching flu at the last moment. We inspected the course by car, were very chatty initially, marked down the up and down-hills, but got more and more quiet the longer we were winding our way throught the african countryside - through the Valley of a thousand hills, through the tough sections around Inchanga and Alverston, through some residential suburbs, and finally down towards the ocean and into Durban - halfway our conversations had stopped completely, the places just streamed by, not being taken in any more, big eyes, and a desperate sigh here and there - when we returned to downtown Durban the first and only words that came out were "holly sh*t"...
The night before, Mooi dropped us off at our B&B in Pietermaritzburg where we spent a wonderfull evening shooting the breeze around the crackling of a fire place. We had totally avoided any alcohol for the last week but now as the drive had filled our hearts with fear we decided to trade some physiological for mental comfort and had a beer which tasted better than any beer I ever remembered. To bed early and after a bit of tossing and turning, I fell asleep and slept soundly.
I had just finished my pre-race rituals at 5am, when Mooi's brother Ian picked us up to shuttle us towards the start, thanks so much Ian. We lined up in the last quarter of the field of 14000 contestants and the atmosphere around us was magic, finally lining up for something that had loomed so large in each of our lifes, happy to have made it here without getting sick or injured, excited that the weather prognosis was promising perfect running weather, anxious to finally hit the road, and yet fearfull (I first wanted to write "respectful" but fear was the more appropriate term) of what was lying ahead. The orange number which identified me as a foreign runner provided for lots of chatting with people around us, african rhythms from the PA system brought the atmosphere to the point of boiling, the cock crowed, the starting gun went off, and we were on our way for what was to become our longest day ...
the race:
the first several minutes were marked by - nothing - nobody moved in our parts of the field yet, then a slow shuffle, past the starting line, eyes down, not to trip on discarded plastic bags and we were finally off to Durban. For several of the following K each bend in the road brought the field to a crawl or even a stand still. Dodging plastic bags and passing people with banners made it hard to settle into a rhythm. We had decided to mentally break the run into a series of 9 10K races, so by the time we finally had a bit of room to run we were half-way through our first stage :-). Hey, this is supposed to be a "down run" - why the hell does it keep going up? After 10K we finally found into a sort of rhythm and i was horrified to discover that for a pace of 6min/k my heart rate was much too high, every slight uphill quickly brought me to my anaerobic threshold of 160 - this was not good, I was being forced to walk several of the steeper sections, feeling bad about holding Keith back like that. His smiles and kind words though convinced me that he did not mind. As the road keeps climbing towards the highest point at Umlaas road I began to relax and we settled into a comfortable pace of sub 6min/k at sections which were flat or downhill and we walked the steeper uphills. We also walked most waterstops and took on either water, mixtures of coke/water, or powerade and I took karl king's salt capsules every hour. We were now moving well and I felt quite in control. Then the next 20K were supposed to be the easiest part of the race, a slight overall downhill, with ups and downs becoming more gradual, winding through camperdown, cato ridge and harrison flats - the latter being everything but flat :-(. we had been on the road for 4 hours, there was another 2/3rds left and I was struggling to keep the pace. My left knee started hurting and we tried to focus our minds inwards, we talked little, letting the eyes wander to distant fields, dissociating, as the brain commanded itty-bitty progress with each step. K after k and minute after minute clicked by and the struggle at least did not get any worse - a pleasant interruption to this cruise in autopilot mode was when we met Mooi and Derrick at bayat's store, the two were using a motor bike, attempting to catch us at various points along the way, pushing us on with a friendly smile and a few encouraging words.
Then, good progress came to an abrupt end as we ran smack-bang into Inchanga - a continuous climb over several k winding up and up and up. Unable to run, I tried to powerwalk as best as I could and I was pleased to see that we were still moving at slightly sub 9min/k - we even passed some people who were running :-). Vistas showed the road in both directions being a sea of bobbing heads. I also now began using Gu energy gels each hour along with the salt caps. Cresting the ridge at ringwood we moved down towards the halfway point of Drummond, the whirring of the electronic timing chips recorded a time of 5:07 and we knew we had achieved our first big goal which was to pass through halfway, safely ahead of the cutoff time at 5:30, this point also marked my 5000th km on the road since i started running three years ago.
From our drive along the route I knew that this was not the time to relax as we were just about to hit Alverston and Botha's hill, another mean uphill that just would not quit. I took some ibuprofene as I could feel the painful knee affecting my stride and making it worse. A welcome distraction came at Arthur's seat - a little nook that the late Arthur Newton had carved out of the rock to rest on his many, long traing runs on this route - "Hi Arthur" - we waved as we ran past. The comrades wall of honour, containing the names of all previous winners and many other finishers, was overflowing with colors. It was very emotional seeing runners placing flowers at the plaques of friends which had since died - it was a strong reminder that although viewing myself as a health-conscious person in reasonable shape, I am still just as mortal and vulnerable as anybody else. A car crash, an angry gun shot, cancer - but whatever may happen in the future, now I felt like celebrating the moment, a moment in which I am attempting something that only few people will ever be fortunate enough to try, close to Kearsney College large letters where written onto the face of the rock - CARPE DIEM - yes, carpe diem, it is...
Things were looking up, the pain in my knee had subsided, we now had one standard marathon to go, with a 700m net drop down to sea level - and as we descended Botha's hill I was entertaining for the first time thoughts that this whole thing might actualy be doable :-). Another short, steep climb into Hillcrest felt tolerable with crowd support getting stronger the closer we moved towards Durban suburbia. On the flats we now comfortably held 6min/k pace. "Hi Mooi, doing ok right now" and on we went after a hug and a smooch. Through Gillits, with 38k to go, I calculated our progress, our splits, the paces we would have to do from here on in and I realized that we could drop to 8.5 min/k pace and still make it. I have never been forced to a slower pace than that on a normal road in any of my training runs - even if I do a lot of walking each k. Sure, things can go wrong, but I knew that if nothing seriously bad happens, this was the point where we had it in the bag, we were in good shape, physiologically in balance, we were drinking a lot and resorbing liquids well, I have gotten continuous boosts from my GU energy gels and suddenly all the pressure was gone. We began passing long lines of runners and I could not believe how much juice I had left in these legs after 70K and 7:30 hours of running. Kloof, Fields hill, Cowies hill, Westville, all came and went. My heart rate was reasonably low, tears trickling down my face now, goose bumps all over and just cruising with the biggest smile on my face, passing people left right and center, playing with the crowd, high-fiving kids, waving at the cheer leaders and dancing with costumed people at the aid stations... if this is what an ultra can feel like then I want to do many more of them. A year ago, my only other ultra so far, a 50k here in graz, turned into a nightmare when I dragged my sorry ass for the last 20K in a painfull shuffle. Will brown helped me through this dissapointment when he suggested that ultras always provide you with an emotional roller-coaster, some stretches you feel like quitting and a few hours later things feel fine again. At the time he mentioned "maybe on your 50 you just did not run far enough" :-) i now understand what he ment...
The 50 mile mark in 9:03. 45th cutting and Tollgate were two more mean uphills but euphoria was filling every part of our minds now, Durban downtown was right in front of us, welcoming us to celebrate the absolute high point of our running life so far. Picture "tough ultra runners" with tears running down their facess, a bit embarassed about it - but not much :-) i guess, thats the real reason why we wear cool shades ;-)
As we entered the stadium, Rhona handed me the two flags that I had prepared before, an Austrian and a South African. Keith and I completed the last steps on the stadium track, our heads held high, waving at the screaming crowds, flying the flags and being - in harmony with the world - final time 10:12
the aftermath:
Hugs, more hugs, finish photos, even more hugs, medals, and we fought our way over to the international tent, where I got to meet drs runners George Parrot and Chris Iwahashi, the Buffalo Chips, some other Austrians, and the womans winner, Ann Trason. In my eyes Ann is one of the most impressive endurance athletes that have ever lived. On the internet ultra lists we had heard updates on how she was recovering from her hamstring operation last november and few expected that she would be able to repeat last years win. she finished in 5:58 and 26th overall (!). ann certainly is a babe (TM) if i may say so :-) and it ranks as one of my greatest moments ever when I got to shake Ann's hand - that was just moments before Nelson Mandela walk past us - just a few meters away - talking about emotional overload :-). Later, I stretched a bit, and a beer in hand, surveyed the damage. It turned out to be quite minimal, knees and ankles a bit creaky with some inflammation, but no blisters, no black toe nails, quads a bit sore but not dramatic - the evening ended in a wonderful drs dinner in great company, Keith, George, Chris, her folks, Mooi, and the Buffalo Chips - a great evening to a day full with magic.
For the record, Charl Mattheus won in 5:28, beating Nick Bester with an impressive surge on the last few k. Another impressive performance was that by Percy Dunn, who finished 22nd in 5:56 - running in full comstume - dressed up as the liquorice man in order to raise money for the Nelson Mandela childrens fund - full body lycra suite, various styrofoam doodads, face paint - the whole shebang, it was unbelievable.
I am still trying to come to grips with all that happened in such a short amount of time but all that effort over the last few months - it was absolutely worth it.
Hi, from ex-dead Keith <binge@icon.co.za> in Johannesburg, South Africa: Robert has done a superb job above in describing the Comrades and the time we spent together exactly like it was wonderful and magical! What he omits to say though, is that, quite contrary to HIM being MY anchor, the roles were in fact reversed, and he would most certainly have broken the 10 hour barrier had he gone on ahead when I urged him to. I guess this is the price I have to pay for being a paid-up member of the old f*art club :-) Race day itself, from wake-up at 4-30am right through to crawling into bed at 11pm, exhausted but exhilarated after a wonderful dinner encounter with George Parrott and his group, was truly special, and will live bright in my memory for the rest of my life. Keep well all, and, as always ...... good running .......
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