Comrades Ultra marathon is a thing of beauty… pain, sacrifice, questions, very little answers, shoes, supplements, being tired all the time, doubts, promises and of course lots of food and coffee. We are going to dig into this 2023 episode and I’ll give you some insight into what happened between Dingaan’s Kraal and South of Shaka’s Rock.
Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom
Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom
Those of you of similar age can’t stop singing this now. A lovely little ear worm to get you through the day. This year we are staying in town unlike last year, far away in Umhlanga with all the monkeys and snakes.
Flights were booked, accommodation was wrapped up and the boys were excited to be heading to Durban to drink coffee on the beachfront from our favourite coffee truck for a few days but first the airport lounge on Friday morning to smash some complimentary grub.
Meeting time was set for 04h30, as usual those two fools Esmund and Merlin said I would be late. Not this time, not if we heading to sunny Durban, I was tired of the cold Cape Town weather and couldn’t leave soon enough. Ez was late, but I think that was on account of his luggage, someone didn’t realise the size of his bag so he had to pay extra and that made him grumpy smurf. It also didn’t help that the Lounge front of house had no way of speaking which pushed Van Wyk further over the edge. Man was hangry.
Flight to Durban, 3 of us filled up a row. 3 naughty laaities on a school trip making fun of one another. One man’s misfortune is often the back end of jokes for the group, as you will read later on…
One of the aircraft staff was one of Mr Van Wyk’s learners too. He obviously was not one of her favourite teachers, he got no free food on the flight. Ez, please do better in future, we need preferential treatment. 8am, Touch down Durban, get the bags, wait for our driver who had woken up late. Thankfully he lives around the corner from the airport. Junaid is the guy’s name, lekker bra, but the Durban slang cracks me up everytime. There’s just something about how the sentences are mixed up that doesn’t make sense but also makes sense at the same time. I generally like to engage with the locals, it serves as a reminder and a refresher course on language diversity and what I would have sounded like if we had stayed in Durban.
First stop Durban Spa, because we could only check in at 11am. Lauren and Vinoda were kind enough to let us 4 monkeys leave our bags there, they didn’t really have a choice. We also got breakfast and ginger shots on arrival. Such kind people, fair trade for all the laughter we’ve provided this season. Off we trotted to the expo, now being a former local and the short walk to the ICC was not meant to go down a few suspect roads but there we were. Some of the streets and buildings looked like stuff in movies. Boarded up windows and doorways, the last coat of paint those buildings had was when the Airport was in the South. The expo was quick, it is actually a swak setup but that’s also perfect, otherwise I’d spend money on nonsense. Off to go fetch our things so we could check in to our own spot which was about to become Casa De Comedy. 500m away down the road was Tenbury Apartment block, just past Addington Hospital. We took our things and walked on the Beachfront. A normal thing to do at this time of the year because nobody on the beach thought it was odd. Nomads.
Tenbury apartment 805, home away from home. Sleeping arrangements sorted. Took photos of the beach front to make people in Cape Town jealous, Subtropical Durban offered the opportunity to wear shorts and slops. A convenient and easily accessible and safe spot for the gents to relax. Lunch provided by Vania, a wonderful serving of pasta that saved us time. That pasta dish hit the bottom of the stomach so good that both eye lids felt it. Dankie V, lifesaver, you know the story.
A shakeout run for 30mins with the clubmates, for vitality points of course and to ensure that supper will be eaten really quickly.
Supper at Empire Steak with our Kenfac clubmates. It really is nice to hangout with friends who don’t have the runners smell, the people look different. A few hours later we were back at home getting ready for the Radio chat with Umpire/DJ/Talkshow Host/Uncle/Marshall and Friend Shafiek Noordien. Ez got the call for a brief chat about what it is that brings us back to Comrades every year and the vibe in Durban.
Sleeping aids provided by Beta Sleep pills and the Sinutab severe strength, those things made the world light and fluffy. A deep sleep for the first time since before Jessi and Dominic were born. If you have issues sleeping before big races then use the stuff, it’s magical, you feel yourself drifting into a lekker deep tiep.
Coffee on the beachfont was the order of the day at first light on Saturday. Just to be there with friends again after this silly pandemic we had experienced over the last couple of years. Many people congregate there for a coffee, surfers, cyclists, walkers, runners and of course many homeless Durban citizens. Those okes ask you for their coffee of choice without skaamte, “morning sir, please buy me a chai latte.” Sekkkkkkkkkkk!
I was on the strip to check out the various busses with their tambourines and whistles bring the Comrades gees to town.
The rest of the day was an interesting experience for so many reasons. Our Maritzburg accommodation was gone to pot, we had no idea where we were going to stay and then we also didn’t get bus tickets. The Uber to PMB, an Avanza driven by Ricardo… This bra was a suspect looking cat, a bit of insight, Durbs was about 26 degrees, this boeta in his tinted window car was wearing a dik hoodie over his head. The 5 of us were in shorts. Off we move onto the freeway to PMB. Usually on roadtrips you go to the bathroom before you leave but not my friends Dullah and Ez. These two gents decided to request a pit stop, not taking them seriously we moving in our Avanza Gokart edition. Suspension messed, CV Joints rattling, Radio Lotus trying their best to entertain on a Saturday afternoon until Ezzo shouts from the back MAYDAY, MAYDAY!!!! Ricardo none the wiser eventually stops after we tell him his car will need a deep clean if he doesn’t stop. Out hop Ez and Dullah to water a tree.
We arrived at the Stay Easy in Chasedene, PMB about an hour later. Thanks to Joe and Rasheeda we got tonhang out there until our elusive accommodation hosts came through. Still not knowing where we were to sleep.
We ended up mixing our supplements and packing our race stock for Joe and Janey to have for their massive role on raceday. Seconding is tough, we tried to make it easy as the success of the group was reliant on the two of them.
Around Sunset we get the go ahead that our humble abode at the 5 star Victoria Inn was ready to accept us, thanks to our friend Lauren. Now blondie and I go way back to the mid 90s, she should have been a Kenfac member already. We rock up in old Longmarket Street Maritzburg and holy hell, two fine young men were outside ready to welcome us or rob us but I think they sensed that a serious pak was waiting for them if they tried something. The Victoria Inn must have been a halfway house in years gone by for Voortrekkers or farmers or Gypsies. We go upstairs and we were greeted by the shortest front of house staff I have ever seen. Serious leprechaun vibes, it was evident that she had mistakenly bitten on one Wilson block too many. Gap. So much has happened and we havent even got to the race yet, setting up beds in the Olde Victorian Inn which resembled Koeberg Hotel or The Locomotive Hotel in Salt River.
I’ve never been in either of those but I now want to, just for comparison. The toilet was like a locker room toilet at a badly run sports facility. The shower was a handheld set up, the soap…
The gents could not believe their eyes but Lauren came through for us like the good person she is, within 5 minutes of arrival she made sure we were sorted.
Between falling asleep and waking up there wasn’t much sleep. Gunshots, shouting, cars speeding off but not a single Police siren to be heard. My new matress was tested, it was crispy, I woke up with every turn. Eventually the alarms go off, we wake up for breakfast… Instant Oats. In. A. Cup. This was the start of a moerse long day as it was meant to be.
The Night manager congratulated Esmund for making it through the night, well it was either that or she had a vision. Imagine waking up at 03h30 you open your room door and there’s a leprechaun saying “good morning, congratulations”
The boys finished up and got ready to take the 5min walk to the start in the cold, it was about 4 to 6 degrees. Deacon Van Wyk done the prayer for us again as he usually does with the big events and at meal time. The walk to the start was festive you could feel the excitement in the air the closer we got to City Hall the more you could feel the energy of the runners.
Togbag drop and getting into the pen proved tricky. This one aunty was trying to get an orderly line going for runners who were frozen, needing to pee, hungry and nervous. So Priya shouts to the crowd, “I want a line, I’m not continuing until I get a line.” Her words weren’t even cold yet, a gent from the Bethlehem AC shouts out, “Hey voetsek wena, give the tickets!!!!” Getting into the pen was exciting, Ez tried to move the gates until the world’s oldest marshall reprimanded him. Merlin’s banana was taken out of his bag by some hungry skelm too.
As usual with this race the start is great, everyone is excited, there’s the National Anthem, the singing of Shosholoza, the Cock Crowing and then the gun but this year we had DJ Snuggles sorting out the sound or lack thereof. That bra had one job, he messed that up nicely. Eventually we get going and before you know it we’re going uphill on the down run. What a scam! I break to water a tree at a spot that I’m familiar with, a nice open piece of land with space for 40 people. Having said that, a lady pops a squat to water the same tree im busy treating, I got a fright because it was just the 2 of us. She makes eye contact with me and says “more seun!” Surprisingly it wasn’t uncomfortable, considering she could see exactly what I was doing. Bird’s eyeview of the birdie.
Heading off towards Durbs on a crisp Maritzburg morning navigating our way through the new route maze and to the top of Polly’s to then dip down into the coldest stretch on down run route. If you run the pace that normal people run you’ll only warm up after 2 hours of running. With it being so cold I needed to water a few more trees in that first hour of running. Last year around that stretch I was a dead man, this year was so much better. Plans were in motion to see Joe and Janey at the 30km mark at Cato Fridge(named by Joe) who was there from about 6am waiting in the cold. Getting to Cato Ridge meant that we needed to navigate a few tricky climbs, one such bastard being the long dreary Umlaas Road. The route went along both sides of the freeway, going zig zag through little neighbourhoods that one would never know existed. With all the toilet stops I battled to get into a rhythm as many of the bus drivers went past. At one stage the 11h30 and two 12 hour busses were playing cat and mouse with each other. Eventually I catch up to the Kenfac uber. Wasfie, Mo, Rasheeda and Rushda. I was happy to see them, I had so much to share with them but first let’s get to the 1st cut off point Cato Ridge at 31km, where we could remove clothing and get something proper to eat and drink. I was gatvol of Biogen and 32GI bars.
Technical Support, Joe and Janey popped up at the 26km mark in Camperdown apparently my tracker wasn’t working at the start which had people worried. I was confused when Janey said I was stressing people out. I was on the road minding my own business trying to climb up the many hills on the down run. Pit stop done, food in the belly, Chicken Mayo sandwich wasn’t as nice as I had hoped. It definitley needed a bit more mayo. Woolworths will hear from me.
We trotted along for the next 5km to get to the first cutoff point with all the supporters at Cato Ridge. There was a part in Cato Ridge that was emotional, there is something about music that can really trigger emotion. Yusuf Mowlana is a rude bliksem at the best of times but when his daughter’s favourite song played he became a different person. That moment hit all of us hard, I reckon sometimes in life we need the soft side to be on display. I remeber Rushda having the strength to say some comforting words, another person who is a real gem but we’ll talk about her later. Moments like those you feel how necessary prayer and memories are to help you navigate this monster of a race. Into Cato Ridge and I spot Mike Obery with his massive Must Love Hills cloak. I wasn’t sure if it was him or his doppelganger because he did not have a big packet of lays nor was he swearing. He probably rallied some supporters and demanded a few hill repeats in one of the side streets.
Next up was Harrison Flats, nothing flat here. It goes really quiet in the part of the race, the sun is now out to play, layers have been removed, I changed from peak cap to floppy which proved to be a great idea, the ears and faces of my roommates told me that the sun romanced them nicely. Of course the Ethembeni school is always a hit, here you check your privilege, you have no other choice, as with every year thousands of runners thank the children and teachers for coming out to support us, if you go through this stretch without a lump in your throat or a tear in your eye then you need to see a therapist.
Inchanga next, yassis, on the up or down this stretch is horrible, on the down you go through 400km of Cato Ridge because KZN is Maritzburg, Ashburton, Cato Ridge, Pinetown and Durban.
Anyway, back to Inchanga, long hot hilly. This bit of the route seems neverending, people are supporting on the sides having a wonderful time with the braais and beers. Not much happens here, only suffering because it is tough. Nobody asks where’s Inchanga, nobody wants to know, you just move along in silence questioning your existence. Eventually some downhill as we drop into Drummond, yippeeeeee one of the seven downhills on the down run. Drummond is festive, noisy, dirty, the smell of mid-morning braais is something that the front runners Piet, Tete and Edward don’t experience. By the time we went through Drummond Tete and Pietie had already eaten two meals, Gerda was about to blow the course record and go do another round for the crowd. Special athletes, who will have no idea about the mathematics we do in this route. Drummond means photos, for Rasheeda this means that her peace signs will be on all our photos, this girl loves a photo and there’s only one photo that I have where she is messed up, generally a very photogenic girl. Also doesn’t talk too much on a run, no complaints, no fussing, she just moves forward. When she does talk it’s usually a droooooooog joke. This year she was looking for someone to rub her bum muscles because they were sore. Ain’t nobody rubbing sweaty bum cheeks girlie, you can nicely drag your bum on the ground like dogs do.
Next up Alverstone, Phezulu Safari Park and Arthur Seat, coming out of Drummond is rough, because the Valley of 1000 Hills lies ahead. That’s a massive effort to get through that piece. Everything hurts already, nothing you do makes a difference. Tech support team were ahead somewhere between a rock and a hard place. The usual happens here placing a leaf or flower saying “Good morning Arthur.” We go around the corner and Pedro’s chicken has a water table, I promise you if they had been giving out chicken legs instead we would have had camped out there. The real problem with Alverstone is that damn radio mast that you see from Polokwane, eventually you get to the radio mast and you’re still nowhere. It’s like driving in the Karoo. You go nowhere slowly. Eventually now we start to drop down to Durban, having tucked into some supplies from superheroes Joe and Janey.
We went through Bothas Village where Wasfie was seeing people drinking 2L beers, “Angelo look at that bra with that big beer, I didn’t know that they made that size beers!” The Bothas Village section is very festive. It’s actually a party zone in the midlands, the community comes out, speakers are set up, DJ and Dance battles are on the go. All I wanted was some cold salty oranges and around the corner there was exactly that. Now Comrades is dirty, but for some reason your level of hygiene goes out the window when a stranger hands you a salty orange. We hope that they washed their hands.
Bothas Village becomes a nice stretch with shade as you go past Kearsney College, a few hundred school boys line both sides of the street offering support and encouragement for runners. It was here where the 12 hour busses were starting to creep up on me. The cramps had settled in and didn’t seem as if they were going to leave me alone. Going down Bothas Hill into Hillcrest was rough, that downhill hit the quads with force, the busses came and went I knew there was one more bus to come. So I was still safe, also knowing that we had 2 hours to get to the Winston Park cut off.
Going into Hillcrest from Bothas Village which is the equivalent of Hout Bay to Kirstenbosch. It is painfull but filled with supporters all the way to the Winston Park cut off. Once you get through WP cutoff you have a stretch of soul searching to do, you going downhill but you also going up, it is stuff that nightmares are made of.
This section takes you onto the freeway as you head towards Pinetown. A long drop down Fields Hill and by now all three sub 12 busses were around. Playing cat and mouse with each other. My friend Makhi rolls up with her gang, “haai kyk vir jou” this lady is responsible for bringing home the masses on race day, where she gets the energy from I don’t know, she paired people up to look after one another, this bus had it all, drinks, deep heat spray, jokes and full belief in their driver. Everyone knows her.
Between our Kenfac crew we each had our own battles to fight in the last 30km. Swapping running partners as we trudged towards Durban. At one stage they left me, I was battling with some demons as we all do on race day. Yet again I knew I was okay because I had banked time between cutoff points. Some simple maths and I was good to go. I was also blessed with the experience of having done this route before and when it comes to this race I’m a bit of a nerd. I function on time of day for the cutoff points and that makes it easier for me to calculate time remaining to get over the line. Into Pinetown eventually and by now I was messed up. Hamstrings and quads gone, non-responsive muscles but still enough time to get through and give the cutoff point a big voetseekkkkkkkkkkk. 2022 they got me, not this time. I went through dirty Pinetown with 6 minutes to spare.
With this race when you go down, you know you must climb some rude hill and this time we hit Cowies Hill, the last of the big 5 hills. Those who have done this race will know that the big 5 are okay, you expect them to hurt you. It’s those other smaller hills that bliksem you all day long. You get bullied by this course.
Cowies Hill is lekker, lots of support, friends and strangers. Scotty’s friend Ayesha and her Husband were there with cold pineapple pieces, that stuff hit the spot. I grabbed my bag of gels and off I walked up Cowies. Good ol Patrick was there with a beer. Yassis that beer looked so good but I had to decline, I still had a moerse hill to navigate. I tried to run but that hill said voetsek brudder. So I walked it, then I remembered that I needed to walk like Denzil Washington, Soon enough I was passing people going up the hill, I saw my club mates in the distance, as long as I could see them I was okay. Up and over Cowies was rough, the longer the day got the more pain I was in. But there was work to be done. Now onto the freeway again. Moer. This stretch was the toughest, in the distsnce were Mo and Rasheeda, then Wasfie and Rushda. Along with 2 busses inbetween us all. I caught up after some hard graft on that freeway. Counting down the km boards. 13,12,11… I was happy to catch up to Rushda, I needed a familiar friend to talk to, even though she wasn’t particularly responsive which was also normal for someone in a bit of pain. Wasfie just ahead looking for us, I signalled to him we’re okay, but we weren’t, we were sore, tired, hungry and thirsty. We also had to get to up 45th Cutting to the Sherwood cutoff by 16h30.
My buff became a tow rope, Scotty hooked in and off we went, trying to motivate one another. I had the spray can of deep heat for my cramps and Scotty’s knee. 45th Cutting is a lekker community, those aunties and uncles line the streets and tell you exactly what to do, some even run a piece with you for moral support. We catch up to Wasfie with about 2km to go to the cutoff and we walk-run that hill. On a normal day that hill would be nothing but not after 80km, it was Kloof Nek to me. But now it’s starting to become touch and go to get to the cut off. The 1km to cutoff board was hidden behind Aunty Priscilla’s Gazebo on the hill, I’m glad I spotted it because without that marker you don’t know how much gas to give to get there. Wasfie didn’t see it, some aunty was shouting “round tha cornah, round tha cornah, yorl must move!”
Righto there we move, down the hill, over the line 3mins to spare. Now Rushda and I have a wonderful friendship, I told her that after all that 2019 training I never got that hug I was promised after the race. This year I was collecting but I didn’t know it was going to come with tears and snot. We crossed the Sherwood cutoff line, I put my arm around her because we made it. We had an hour and change for 7kms. This girl then bursts out crying, tears popping off her face like the cartoons, she mumbled something about how hard it was to get there, with my arm around her she proceeds to use the left side of my chest as a tissue. Snot like a snail trail, thanks Scotty that more than made up for it. Wasfie turns around “wat gaan hier aan, kom jy, ruk jou reg” We laughed and off we went, time in the bag.
On the way to Tolgate pops Ayesha and Husband again, this time brother has a schweppes dry lemon and some juice. That stuff hit the spot, dankie bra. In the distance were Mo and Rasheeda and just behind them, my roomate Dullah Osman. That man didn’t look well, if he was walking any slower he would have rolled back to Maritzburg. Now we were 6 Kenfac runners heading to Durbs. Deep in the pain cave, by now I counted 14 people who had tripped over the cat eyes. If you run in a bus, your only job is to stay off the road markings and off the driver’s heels. Freeway cat eyes catch you properly, I saw people trip fall and bump their heads, chins, faces, knees you name it. At the back end of the race you see sad things, people unable to move, muscles twisting over each other, bailer busses to the left, spectators overhead cheering us on. Between the 6 of us there were gaps, Mo and Rasheeda ahead, Wasfie and Rushda and myself and Dullah bringing up the rear. At one stage we were walking as fast as the last 12hour bus. Such was the determination but I was getting gatvol of the walking, we needed a run break. With Dullah I got to use my full vocab for encouragement without feeling bad, he understood the assignment and followed instruction. “bra lets run to the bridge, let’s walk, right next bridge, okay lets walk this hill” our aim was to reconnect with the others so that we could finish together. The road got narrow, the busses were all over and now we needed to make a move to get ahead of them. Dullah decided to call home, the whole family was together and they cheered, just another boost we needed.
There were moments where our pace went under 6mins per km, we were flying. Trying to get past the bus, but then I pulled rank, “Dullah clear the way for us bru!!!” He was like a soldier, “sorry lady, coming through” I was hot on his heels, “another one bra, another one, excuse me coming through”
Eventually we got through and around the bus, into the Toyota mile,
we caught up with the group and there we were, 6 club mates, ready to finish the biggest road race on the calendar. A full day of maths, sun, energade, water, coke, creme soda, potatoes, oranges, gels, sandwiches, electrolytes, energy bars and jokes. Mo then says to the group, get ready for the best finish of your life. At Kingsmead the crowd is right there, whatever pain you’ve had all day disappears, adrenaline takes over and powers you home. You’ve fought battles that ordinary people can’t imagine and it is hard to put into words just how hard the journey is. 88km of running and walking, you see things that you shouldn’t, like people taking a dump in full view of everyone. That happened to me, to the right of the road there was a boeta popping a squat. I then tell the group “guys, don’t look there, pointing in the direction of the squatter.” Naturally they all looked and said “why would you do that?” I laughed, there was no way I could see that on my own. Just like the lady in Inchanga, who had her whole bum out, not even hiding behind a tree. Her club mates all around her. Running brings you close together as a group, thankfully our group of friends are not that close. We just don’t care about your feelings, we say what needs to be said as well as what you don’t like hearing. If you gained weight you’ll know about it very quickly. Everyone has a purpose, everyone brings something and that’s what this race does, it brings so many things together, so many people together too.
I called Tamsyn and the kids, such a relief knowing that all this damn sacrifice would end up with that tiny medal around my neck. She gave me time to go do those silly long runs, she came out to support the long ones, it was difficult for her to do what she usually would especially with Dominic and Jessi being so young. The medal wasn’t just mine, it belonged to my family, they allowed me to train for this monster. Getting to see Jessi and Dominic on the phone was great, in a few years time they’ll be able to be in Durban or Maritzburg as I enter the stadium. There were many days when Jessi asked me if I’m going for a run, I even managed to take her on a few. Next season they’ll be back in the buggy for a few runs.
I called my mother to let her know I’m okay, as usual being her favourite child she was over the moon to see I was okay. I’m sure she was watching tv the entire day to see if she could spot me or she was glued to the tracker.
Back to Kingsmead, we entered the gate went through a tiny gate and then got jacked up by the electric crowd. People shouting and wanting to high 5 you, but for some reason it starts taking forever, round the bend we go, hand in hand, 2 rows of three, and then we see our super support team, Janey Gamieldien and Joe Davids.
We celebrated with them before we went to collect the medals. It crossed my mind to get 2 medals for them because they deserved it. A massive effort from them, videos, photos, having our supplies ready exactly when and where they said they would be. They were safe and sound throughout the day and that was important, they had a tougher job than us.
I called Tamsyn straight afterwards, as always she wants to know details about the hardships we faced. I have 2 DNF’s and while those hurt badly. Comrades 2023 was the toughest I’ve experienced. I was in pain for a long time, Makhi’s words were, now we manage the distance. That’s exactly what I did. I managed, I kept going forward, drank enough cold stuff, helped clubmates who inturn helped me, strangers and friends assisted too. This whole setup if the 11th of June was insane, from the adventurous Maritzburg set up to the end. Chuck in how the anthem finally got me this time. Will I do it again? You know the answer to that, training starts in August.
We all got together at the end, to celebrate each other and the various challenges we faced. I belong to the best club in Cape Town. We’re a small club but at the same time we have a presence. Real good people, 100% medal haul was promised and delivered.
A few things to mention:
Compression boots are lovely items to have, it can make a great subject for comedy.
Accommodation confirmations are absolutely important.
Uber drivers in KZN are senseless.
Sleeping tablets are a necessary evil.
Having a sense of humour is important.
Vomiting after the race is always an option for one of my friends. 2 years straight now.
Taking a shower after the race is vital.
Many people definitely died at the Olde Victorian Inn.
You pee before you go on a roadtrip.
My Tenbury roomies, thanks for the laughs, Casa De Comedy was proper, we laughed from Airport to Airport and back. See y’all next year champions.
Since the euphoria of completing Comrades in 2016 I have developed a love hate relationship with this event. I love how it brings people together and how you are forced to go through physical and psychological change. I hate how it consumes you. There is no easy way to do Comrades and the training required.
Struggling Sportsman 