The Hurt Locker

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.

Running is tough, whether you’re an Elite athlete or back marker. The distance remains the same, your ability and work ethic changes, perhaps you are indeed lucky enough to run very fast and efficiently, bless your damn fast soul. Forgive us for turning ourselves inside out to complete the latest social craze. Endurance filled road running.

Comrades can hurt you. Emotionally and Physically. It keeps you coming back every year, this was to be my 4^th attempt. 9 June lining up outside Durban City Hall with just around 20000 other maniacs. Lots of friends from Cape Town have also joined, all hoping to get to Maritzburg in one piece. 18 Kenfac club mates and Merlin from Avbob and two prison wardens, JJ and Liaan complete my squad. I say my squad because we have invested in each other and ultimately want the best for one another. The rest of the people I have come to know since I started this sport all have the same goal and intention, to do well enough to get the medal.

Kenfac was well represented this year, 18 of us and 8 first timers. In all fairness we are all novices just a few of us who decided to come back again to make sure that this event is actually a monster that takes everything you have on the day and spits it right out. I spent months running with friends who became part of a family, sometimes a very dysfunctional family. Planning for Comrades started in November last year. Qualifiers were basically out of the way and it was time to plot the way forward. Research and strategy was the order of the day. Going in to December and later January the plans were concrete and the training schedule was born. The magic number was 1000kms between January and Comrades Race Day. Hit that target and success was on the cards. So the plans were in motion, lots of mileage and then it was time to get into Durban.

Partners and friends were down in Durbs too, to do race day support and offer assistance where they could. One big happy family, the time flies after visiting the expo, getting groceries for the next few days and then supper. Being a part of Kenfac is a very social thing. Everyone helps, like the mafia, if you’re a friend and Aunty Shamilla or Aunty Shariffa have made you a cup of coffee at the Gazebo then you’re a friend of Kenfac. They give you the rubber stamp which allows you to get race day support. We planned the race route really well and Nabielah got the flags done which was a masterstroke. The route was lined with people and that certainly made things easier.

The day before the race is always a busy one for me, I need the run around for peace of mind and it helps me fall asleep quickly. Of course I pop two beta sleep pills and that sends me to La La land. Alarm set for 02:55, after falling asleep around 6pm it felt like I slept for 10 minutes when my alarm sounded. It was go time. Vania made us breakfast, our bags were packed, the ladies were getting us ready for our photos, we packed the car, Ezzo said a great prayer which was really important. We done the same thing last year and it got us home.

The walk to the start is great, everyone is buzzing, Durbs is alive with possibility. The City Hall area is a festival, everyone and their dog is outside. Wishing runners well as they go into their seeding pens to make a dash for PMB. I lost my Battalion brothers in the masses of people, but it wasn’t a concern, I knew I’d see the lads later. We trained hard. Harder than before to get this done. I walk around hug Lameez and chat to Faizel before Lee Anne goes into Paparazzi mode, a few pics and off I go. I spot Wasfie we exchange a few pleasantries before I head off to my pen. To find Mo, someone told me he had on a yellow T-Shirt. Cool, should be easy to find. It wasn’t. I was resigned to running this race on my own but out of nowhere he pops up. Cool, I get to run with a bra who doesn’t really talk much. In the pen the energy builds up, the dude on the mic is talking shit about Elite athletes and racing and the breakdown of how the race starts. I was ready, I wanted to get going. I look at Mo, this bugger had tears in his eyes already, because I was a good friend, I said nothing. Mo is very emotional at races, I believe it fires him up. Then Shosholoza and our Anthem, this time the Anthem gets me good. It usually doesn’t but for some reason it got me real good, lumpy throat, slightly tense and boom there goes the gun, press start on the watch and we go nowhere. By the time we cross the start line the Front runners have done 1,5km.

Like clockwork, just after the race starts a toilet stop is necessary, it’s dark, it’s cold and finding a corner in Town just doesn’t happen. The streets are lined with people, unlucky for some shop owner, I had to let go of the vitamin juice outside his shop, I look around, Mo is standing waiting. “Almost done bru!” We start rolling again, just past West Street Cemetery there are at least 50 guys taking a leak on the dead. Rude, disrespectful pigs. The climb to Berea or Tollgate is a killer, research tells you to hold back, you’ve already been pulled by the crowd of runners so here is the opportunity to be disciplined. Ignore the Hill and your race will end in Pinetown. It is a nasty steep hill, you don’t notice it, because it is early, the weather is great and you have an abundance of energy. Run three poles, walk one. Nazli pops up, as does Mallick and we were a mini group going through our run walk strategy for a bit.

Out of town, top of Berea a slight drop and then we get 45^th Cutting, another climb this one steeper than the others but shorter. You get to the top and it is great, crowds are wishing you well, great job, keep going and of course one idiot, “nearly there bru”. Another dip and then the highway to Westville, approx. 7km of a climb, long and gradual, the only danger here was the road works and the massive cat eyes. I needed another toilet stop, pulled over to the side of the road and decided to make it rain on some cars on the road below us. Sorry guys, that wasn’t rain. That pit stop made me lose Mo and Naz. From there I was on my own. Westville to Cowies, cruising, not chasing them because that would be a futile exercise. Cowies on the up run isn’t even a Hill but the smell of bacon, eggs, sausages and coffee was a bit much. All I had was a race bar and some other stuff, nothing fancy like a sandwich.

Through Pinetown you hit the St John’s timing mat and you are registered on the tracker, your family goes wild back home. Only 6 more timing mats to go. I see a former colleague, Rukeya Samaai, I hear her shout my name I wanted to stop and hug her but the clock was moving, it was a scene out of a Bollywood movie, time stood dead still for what seemed an eternity. It was good to see a familiar face, especially that early into the race. Through the subway and onto Field’s Hill, I go past JJ and Ashraf both these bastards were nursing little niggles. JJ was on his way to his back to back but he was running on the 10h30 finish pace, I gave him some stern words because he’s a friend and he needs to be safe with that foot of his. Mallick wanted nothing to do with me up Field’s Hill. I said I’m gonna walk up here he said, “I’m going to walk more.” This guy has a great sense of humour at the best of times. Field’s Hill takes a while, lots of winding to the top but there was this Brazilian lady in front of me with great legs so I followed her, such a wonderful motivator.

After Fields it flattens out, not really, it’s just less of a climb through Kloof to Hillcrest and there’s some more life, the crowds are out cheering you on. I was in a vest, all these people in Jackets, Jeans and Boots. It must have been cold. Past the fire station and still no sight of Mo and Naz. Solo for 20kms already, after Hillcrest there’s a little drop to the bottom of Bothas Hill. This is the fun part of the race, Jeff’s bus pops up somewhere, I join in, the manne are singing and it was great, until Jeff decides to go for a toilet break. The bus walks, people start getting nervous. “AAAAAH Jeff, where are you? You must come Jeff! Where is Jeff? Jeff, hurry up!” Jeff was taking a leak, probably pissing into middle earth, I decided this walking with these nervous impatient people was annoying, off I went. Then I saw Riaad, “Ang the girls are ahead on your left” great some supplies, anything cold would be welcome. Yumna, Nabielah and the Golden Girls and Joe. They give such energy these friendly faces, it was here I realised that they were getting cold… Janey’s shoulders were still covered.

Later girls, time to climb Bothas, JESUS CHRIST!!!! This hill is a thing. It just keeps coming. Up, up, up, left bend, up, right bend, up, up, up, up. Damn school kids from Kearsney College come walking down, “keep going guys, you looking good” In 2017 my race was done here. I was completely shattered, I still remember a kid offering to get me salt. I wish I could have high fived that youngster this time around. I kept trucking, to the top, don’t stop. Looking out for Tamsyn, Vania, Latetia and Franchel. I saw the car in Lello road, so they had to be close… Aah there’s the flags, boom. Change of race pack chicken mayo sandwich and a photo, see y’all later guys. Checking up on people behind me, Tamsyn says they’re all still moving. Did you see Mo? Ya, he’s just ahead. GREAT, finally I can run with a pal a little. I see him, the sun was out his white cap was back to front. Looking like Sly Stallone but not Stallone from Rocky. I catch up, how you doing I ask. He says “They weren’t lying about the up run hey, I feel sick” Okay let’s find a valoid. I ask the first person I see, that person looked at me like I was talking Old English. The guy was really confused. I went searching for my kind of sick pal, eventually two ladies at the Fourways Road Runners Gazebo had one, and it certainly made a difference to Mo. We kept a run walk strategy going. The area between the top of Bothas Hill to the top of Inchanga was tough, the sun had come out to play and it made things tougher. Once you get to the top of Inchanga you feel a bit better but then your heart breaks a little bit. On both sides of the road the kids from Ethembeni School are brought out by the school staff and they make your day, whatever happens after you see the kids doesn’t matter. You high five them, hug them, fist bump them and they give you a massive pick up, not after leaving you with a moerse lump in your throat. That energy spike is necessary for what comes next…  Harrison Flats, which takes you to the Cato Ridge cut off point. That stretch is similar to Paarden Eiland in Cape Town Marathon. It is rubbish. I can’t say anything more about that shit hole. The best thing I saw there were the sunburnt faces of our Kenfac Supporters. The Kenfac flag was a masterstroke. I’ve since been left by Mo, rude bastard got me back for Two Oceans. I soldiered on, taking my horse to the old town road.

Again I see a Kenfac flag, more Lucozade and Nabielah the Wise one had a bompie. A fucking apple bompie. Genius move. It felt like home, brain freeze and home. Exactly what I needed there. A little further on we head into another dirty part of the race, the Cato Ridge cut off. Prior to that cut off fuckall was going on. The route is quiet, I ended up chatting to a lady about the traffic on the left of us on the N3. She said “my poor husband is there” the oke was making his way to Umlaas road to offer her supplies. She asked about time and cut offs and I assured her she’ll be okay. She was still in very good shape, her first Comrades but she was having a good day. We hit the cut-off point and I left her there. Comrades cut-offs are tough at least the the 3^rd, 4^th, 5^th and 6^th points. Breaking the race down is important, actually vital to your success. You’re hardly ever in control of the race, the race owns you and plays with you. However it can’t be treated like a marathon or two marathons. Too much is at stake. Mind you, a steak along the route would also be great. The number of roadside braais, chargrilled meat, and typically South African cuisine on a Sunday lingers through the midday air. Between the Cato Ridge and Umlaas Road cut-off area there are a few landmarks. Two mosques, KFC, bottle stores and a host of people who are willing you to pick up the pace. You want to oblige but if you do, you could blow your race. There is still 29km to go from Cato Ridge to Scottsville and the climbs have not ended. Actually it is a gradual climb with loads of unknown bumps. 2017 around this area I was flirting with danger. The clock was moving too fast for my dead legs. This time around I had 40 odd minutes in the bank to get to the next cut off point where Tamsyn and the girls had the last of my supplies. Some Threshhold for the pain, endurolytes to replenish the lost electrolytes and some progast to settle the gut and add to the hydration levels. I also had one last bottle of BCAA’s which would be sufficient to carry me to the end and of course the good old chicken mayo roll. Now not to be cocky or arrogant in my story telling but with 20kms to go to the medal gantry in Scottsville it takes a special kind of idiot to utter the words, “Thanks ladies, see you in Pietermaritzburg.” I had 3 whole hours to run 20kms. On my worst day I would have pissed those 20kms. So I knew after spending enough time doing my recon and research I had it in the bag. What I did not know was the amount of hills still to come. I remember Clinton telling me to take a piss against that cut-off sign. I really wanted to but that would have been disgusting. I continue trotting along making my way to the dreaded Polly Shortts. Which was about 7km away.

Getting to Polly’s was tough, a few bumps along the way and some very steep downs. The key here was to walk when necessary and with purpose. Strolling would cause time loss so boxing smart in this 12km section between Umlaas Road Cut-off and the Top of Polly’s was imperative. Faezah catches up to me and said, she needs to get done. I look at my watch and checked that we had more than 2 hours to go. With Polly’s on the horizon and the sun going down in the distance. I kept my smarts about me, whipped out my pace chart and gave her a gentle reminder, we were okay and the medal was in the bag. She’s as tough as nails that girl. A really impressive runner that doesn’t say much but she is loads of fun. You get to see people’s nature when they’ve been exposed by a moerse long road race. Emotions take over and it becomes a true test of character. Those two hours I spent on the old road with her flew by quickly but I made sure that she was comfortable in the approach to Scottsville. I think she’s going to want to punch me if she decides to read this. She can swear, she can be grumpy but she can’t stay serious for long. So we heading down into Little Polly’s which was tough, the drop was steep and painful on the quads.

Getting to the top of Little Polly’s was okay, dropping down the back of Little Polly’s was also kak. Then we get to Polly Shortts and a gentleman decides to announce at the top of his voice. “Welcome to Polly Shortts guys”.

A 1.7km climb that would be a non-event on any other day, you get this bastard with 9kms to go. Nobody needs to say anything, you just get to work and walk properly, a lady from Bluff AC was doing her 23^rd Comrades. I asked her if she also wanted to do one Comrades and she said “yes, but I fooled myself and I see you’re also a fool like me” A light-hearted moment to the top of Polly’s. All while my date Faezah wasn’t enjoying herself. I think her soup had a fly in it. We get to the top and the energy to roll comes back. Alas, another fucking hill, and another and another until we start going down through the suburbs. You see the lights at the stadium, photographers, I point them out to my partner who may have flashed one or two smiles. I tried my best to get her to laugh, with 2km to go I do a video interview with her and it goes along the lines of me saying congratulations and we doing this again next year, her reply was: “Fuck that, I’m done, I’m not coming back, oh fuck off!” I had a great laugh, when entries open I’ll see her name on the start list if God allows. I phoned Tamsyn, the conversation goes like this: “hey babe, not far to go, you are speaking to the owner of an up run medal, she said she was at the finish standing against the rails somewhere”.  In the final km there was a dude from Gugulethu AC with a closed bottle of water, I needed some he offered, I drank half of it quickly, I tore off to get back to my date. Now, tv time at Comrades is my thing, it was time to get ready, making memories with my pal. Red light on camera means it is beaming live to the people back home. Under the race course subway there were 2 cameras. Around the bend there was another and on the home straight there were two or three more. Now the finish is the worst in the world, it’s similar to Cape Peninsula. We go through at a frantic pace, I hear and see Tamsyn shouting, I give her a wave, we carry on and I see Ashraf Mallick there, shouting like a mad man, “ANGIE, ANGIE, ANGIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” It’s great to see your mates at the end, all the guys want the best for everyone. We don’t have kak friends at Kenfac SAC.

Faezah and I finish the race hand in hand, arms up celebrating a massive effort of bravery, tenacity and desire to get from Durban to Scottsville to get that tiny medal. I am no hugger but the sigh of relief made me hug this skinny long legged woman. I think she cried a little but I wasn’t going to mess with her. She needed her asthma pump but first let’s get our medals, I lost her in the process, got my medal and the badge and a bottle of water. Off to tog bag collection phoned Tamsyn and when I got to her, tears and a sigh of relief took over. I have never been that emotional at a race, but two years on, working my socks off to get the coveted Comrades medal meant so much. Medal number 3 into my collection and a sense of achievement. Comrades 2019 hurt. Sizonqoba, Together we Triumph.

So who do I say thank you to, first of all. God, the man above decides what happens to you. You are never in control. Our supporters on race day, Vania, Latetia, Franchel, Yumna, Janey, Fazlin, Riaad, Joe, Cameron, Thofier, Jimmy, Nabielah, Faizel, Lee Anne and I am sure I have forgotten someone. Tamsyn, for allowing me the time to run and keep going to get shit done. My physio Dylan, a friend who I believe is going to run Comrades with me one day. Wasfie, for guidance and being level headed and making sure we believe in ourselves. Ezzo, Merlin, Liaan and JJ, these men are something else. We hold each other accountable as we continue to live the dream. The Kenfac buddies, Nazier, Saleh, Mo and Clinton, I do not know a stranger bunch of people but the dynamic works well. We laugh, make fun of one another but ultimately we stay true to our friendship and desire to be successful in this sport. Rushda, Rasheeda, Elzaine and Faezah… These girls and I formed quite the relationship over the last few months. I’ve seen them at their grumpiest, without make up and horrible personalities. I can’t express the joy that came over me when I saw them and their medals. I also felt a sense of pride in their achievements. Thanks girls. Fadeelah and Adiel, two very different individuals, two nerds but Fadeelah is all business, rigid, hijab runner, fighting a good fight and fair play to her for being the strong person and athlete she is. Adiel, is a funny guy, he’s honest and arguably the worst guy at a photoshoot. Lameez, she taught me a life lesson, determination and to live life your way. Work hard, play hard but always make the decision that best suits you. She’s a hero.

Comrades is romantic, it is an event that consumes you. You learn to love it, you hate it a little and most of all you never forget it. When you on the old main road between Durban and Pietermaritzburg you feel horrible, you feel great and you are never alone. You go to some real dark places in your mind but I doubt any of those feelings compare to what the soldiers of years gone by went through. People often ask me why I do this. I do it because I can, I do it because it makes me believe that I am tough. Nothing is impossible once you’ve done the comrades, you can’t say no to drive to Hout bay on a Sunday afternoon with your wife because it’s far. Hout bay is around the fucking corner, to be honest from my house to Hout bay is around 30kms.

When I start training again the end goal will be The Comrades. It is the Hurt locker. I’ll sign up to have my 40^th birthday party on the road, consider yourself invited to the 25000 man street party, it will be my birthday. Do not bring naartjie energade. 14 June 2020, stiek uit we can train together in December. God bless and take care.