Comrades
It’s 6.00a.m. 13000 runners are at the start line. The countdown to
the off is to the accompaniment of Chariots of Fire. Eleven hours and 56
miles later, I would hear the same stirring tune repeated, but by then the mood
of exuberance and excitement would have been supplanted by despair and
disappointment for many.
This is the Comrades Marathon in South Africa, the world’s most popular ultra
marathon, held every year since 1921 to commemorate those who fell in the First
World War. The race alternates each year between Pietermaritzburg in
KwaZulu/Natal to Durban on the coast, running ‘down’ from Pietermaritzburg
and ‘up’ from Durban. My year was down although friends who have completed
both claim that up is easier.
| A report in Runner’s World claims that standard marathon
runners find Comrades ‘doable’ on not much more than their normal
training. I found this to be basically accurate making only two
major concessions to the longer distance with my training ----starting
2 months ahead of schedule, and by making 2 of my long runs 25 miles plus.
Otherwise it was a case of trying to stay ‘injury free’ ( I did )
and preparing myself mentally for the distance. With sixteen 26
milers behind me, experience became a major factor.
The course winds through undulating countryside devoid of
spectators but support through the very small towns was outstanding. The
highest point is 824 metres ( feet ) with Durban, of course, at sea
level, and we passed such grand sounding points as Inchanga Hill, Tumble Inn,
Rob Roy, Kloof, and ParadiseValley.
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The race organisation was outstanding, with feed stations every 2 kilometres
providing a variety of drinks, biscuits and fruit. In the latter stages I
was twice offered hot potatoes boiled in their jackets
and dripping with butter - after 7 hours of running, nothing could have been
more welcome or could have tasted better.
I ran most of the way with a friend from Dublin, Eugene Kavanagh, for whom this
was his 3rd Comrades. We assessed our pace sensibly, kept each other in
check, and passed the marathon point in a leisurely 4 hours 35 minutes, without
for one moment thinking that in a normal situation, we would now be finished!
The final quarter was very hard work. Comrades has an 11 hour cut-off
point but I was hopeful of breaking 10 hours. Had I run the final half
marathon in 2 hours, I would still have had a 30 minute cushion to achieve that
but still missed out by 15 minutes. That’s how tough it was.
Everyone walked up the hills in the second half of the race, I certainly
preferred a decent walking stride to a shuffling jog - better for the legs
anyway.
The 11 hour cut-off is strictly enforced and runners who obviously won’t make
it are withdrawn by officials all along the course. They are even
prevented from entering Kingsmead Cricket Stadium just before the finish if it
is certain that they won’t break the 11 hours. Even with knowing this I
found the end both brutal and unforgettable. Three minutes to go, Chariots
of Fire blasts out a stirring encouragement to those struggling to finish.
Some collapse before the finish line and are scooped up by fellow runners who
risk not finishing themselves. The crowd counts down the final 10 seconds,
an official fires a gun, and a team of burly officials pull a metal fence across
the finishing line. About 2 dozen don’t make it and fall to the ground in
total despair and disbelief. There will be no medal, no name on the list
of finishers, no acknowledgment that they had covered 56 miles bar a few yards.
Many are in tears, a couple throw up, the stadium-- a cacophony of music a few
moments before - falls silent. This is the way it has always been,
everyone knows the form from years of television coverage, but the reality is
still hard to take.
I discover later that 3000 didn’t complete the course, and
that 4500 had finished after I did so my position is very respectful.
Comrades is a magnificent event , a memorable challenge, and one of life’s
great enriching experiences. I’m glad I did it. Bring on the up
route.
Paul Acheson
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