Charity begins at home.

This running journey started in 2014. A 10km road race that took forever. A few more 10km events, a half marathon in Gordons Bay and then Omtom half Marathon. Then the hype fizzled out like an effervescent tablet in a glass of water. 

2015 more of the same, just running on willpower and determination to get to the finish line of the chosen event for that day. Until August 2015 when things really kicked off after getting a better understanding of the sport. From messing around with a half marathon I entered a 30km run in Simonstown. A lovely chilly morning greeted me. I’ll never forget the pain and anguish after that race. 

Then it was a good idea to enter a Marathon they said. It will be fun is what they also said. More pain followed. Now it had become addictive. This runner’s high business is a real thing. Once you get over that line all is forgotten. What struggle? When did it hurt? When is the next event? 

With each event the medal collection grows. A 5km fun run, many 10km runs, a few 15km runs, many half marathons, a few 30km runs, 5 standard marathons and 3 ultra marathons. Yes, I am proud of those achievements 2 Omtom 56km races and the holy grail, The Ultimate Human race also completed, the Comrades down run in the bag. Nothing very down about it, if anything only the last 5km is downhill. 

This year I go back for the special medal, the Back2Back but this time I’m alone. No club mates. The support, energy and memories we shared since 2015 won’t be there on race day. My Comrades will be observing the holy month of Ramadaan. It’s not something they can get out of. I am sure they want to be there but there will always be another race for them to run. No doubt I can count on any of them to accompany me on one of my training runs over the next few weeks. Running is in our blood now, we can’t escape it. We are addicted. Right, Saleh, Mo, Wasfie, Anwar, Ashraf, Ruqqiyah, Ahmed and Aneesa? 

Last year when we were running through the Natal Midlands we came across a very famous school. The Ethembeni School for the physically disabled and visually impaired child. If this section of the race doesn’t give you a lump in your throat or bring you to tears then I am afraid you have wired wrong by the man above. http://ethembenischool.co.za/

So when I entered Comrades after much thought and discussion with Tamsyn we decided it would be great to attempt getting that back 2 back medal. You only get one chance at it. I also decided to run for a charity. One of the Comrades listed beneficiaries https://www.starfishcharity.org/get-involved-sa they’re an institution that deals with orphaned and neglected kids. Everyone has a story and each one of these kids must have a remarkable story.

I set a target of R10000 to raise before the 2nd May 2017 and I’m currently on R6300 thanks to the generous donations of my friends and family members. I need a minimum of R3700 to feel satisfied. Running for myself no longer appeals to me. Running for a cause of this magnitude may not be the only cause going forward. How does one choose a charity? Is there a perfect choice or do we choose one that we identify with. Who knows? All I know is that I want to make a difference and get that special medal. 

I’ve trained for it and now I’m begging for your support too. Any amount is welcome, so follow the link or copy and paste it into your browser and follow the steps to be a part of a life changing experience for someone who needs it more than us. https://secure.onreg.com/onreg2/personal/profile.php?recordid=8316&eventid=3361

Thank you for being a part of this. 

Angelo

The Ultra struggle…

Race day, early and dark. A 2km walk to the start because everyone and his dog participates in the Two Oceans. We parked close enough to the finish for me to crawl to the car afterwards. Mo, Nazier, Wasfie, Ahmed and I trotting along the main road to the start. It’s go time, Mo and Wasfie head to their pens. Proper race horses those two and they were very successful today. 

Start line, anthem, shosholoza, the blowing of a horn and chariots of fire. Then the gun goes off and we crawl, going nowhere slowly. Saleh, Nazier, Ahmed, my pal Ryan West and I. Bunched up trying to do a minibus as per race planning and much discussion leading up to race day. We went through Lakeside and Muizenberg together and once we were in the sun things got serious. Fish Hoek remains a blur amongst lots of cursing, I hate that place. We reach Noordhoek at a great pace time in the bag as per pacing chart. We good to go over Little Chappies and Big Chappies. Somewhat easier than before. Saleh was running well so he was gone, that’s our own rule if you feeling good, kap aan meneer. Couple of other soldiers fell off along the way. Nazier and I complete Chappies making terrible jokes as well. Down into Hout Bay or the Devil’s armpit, marathon mark and I was on my own. Nazier go bru, “I’ve been here before” is what I was thinking. He was strong, not one cramp, bastard. Yet again Hout Bay and Constantia Nek took control of me until the familiar voice of an incredible Kenfac runner,  Ashraf Scholtz pipes up “let’s go brother, I’ve got no bar ones”. Off we go, with a serious run walk strategy up the Nek. We get to the top dejavu strikes, the blue vests get smaller and smaller, 6h45 bus long gone, 7h00 bus just gone, in Cecelia Forest all hell breaks loose in the form of rigamortis. Legs, 2 of them stiff as a board. Cramps everywhere, rendering me useless every so often. Thankfully it’s a gentle downhill and I could roll through. I hear two buddies call me, in quick succession “hey bra get on the bus quick” says Ashraf Mallick unlucky for me that wasn’t to be. Yazeed Emeran spots me cramping up without my shoe on. He says, “come there’s still time!” he assists in cramp relief. True soldier that boy. Off he goes, a friendly marshall puts my shoe on for me, my Cinderella moment. Left, right, the body reluctantly follows. 

Kirstenbosch was rough, I got through that section alone last year. Experienced the same pains only in different sunlight this time around. M3 not much time left. Cramp, cramp, cramp and some of the worst run walk strategies in place will be found near the end of Ultra cut off. I can assure you that not one individual is having a comfortable time right now. Hill at 55km but why? I ask myself yet again. What am I running for? Self pride, determination and to write a blog at 23h45 about the experience. 

Down the hill onto UCT sports fields, I have fans, my name is shouted, my mind acknowledging the masses, my hands forgot to wave, it is here you realise your mind and body are no longer friends. I waved somewhere at someone. Then Tamsyn was spotted, as per my usual race day ending I run over and kiss her the clock didn’t matter. 2 minutes for 200m I think. 

I hear my mum shouting my name but not like when I was a kid getting up to mischief. It was a cry of pride and joy. I couldn’t turn back too many strugglers like me that I would have hampered. 

I don’t cry at races, no matter how painful it is. The emotion of this race took it out of me. Tamsyn comes around medal around her neck and her 21km shirt on. Proud of her. A comforting embrace and tears follows. Mine, not hers. This race took everything I had and kept on asking for more. I delievered yet again by the Grace of God and lots of placebo effect cocktails on the way in. 

06h58:17 seconds. 

The intention of running a 6:30 time is something I failed at, horribly so. I live and continue to learn. 

Congrats to the Kenfac finishers, achievers, PB smashers and our twin aunties. They make sure that things are sorted. From food to massages they are there for us. Right now I can’t see as far as next Easter. Only time will tell.