Aaaaah 2022, the Comrades return, everything about it was different but also very much the same. I love this race, irrespective of not completing the task in time I still love comrades. Good moments, bad moments but thankful to be alive to tell the tell, learn from the experience and do something I enjoy so much.
Running far does not scare me, nothing in sport scares me, I’ve played too much sport to know that you can’t win all the moments. Pride and ego out the window when it comes to distance running, this is all about me fighting myself trying to be better than I was the last time out. So let’s unpack, reflect and give you an idea of the dreaded DNF.
We stayed in Pietermaritzburg on Saturday night, this gave us 2 extra hours of sleep, unlike previous Down run editions where we would take the bus to PMB and be awake and eating breakfast at 12h30, then getting ready to hit the road. PMB in August is much warmer than in June. The start was pleasant, no need for extra layers, ideal conditions for a 10km run. This of course was not a 10km event.
Music, lights, shosholoza, the National Anthem, not Sister Bettina, our real anthem Nkosi Sikilel’ iAfrika arguably the greatest anthem in the world, then a fancy horn sound and the gun goes off. As soon as that happens, the elites head off at a frantic pace, the rest of us edge forward and 5 to 10 minutes later we crossed the start line timing mat therefore activating your race via your timing chip.
We make our way out of the City, at that stage it becomes the world’s largest public toilet, people use, walls, trees, bushes, shop fronts, they even go behind a parked car, trying to be discreet but that does work out for anyone because as soon as you think you’ve found a private spot up pop 3 or 4 more athletes, the smell of wintergreen, deep heat and urine permeates the crisp morning air. We make our way toward Durban some 90km away, many more areas become public toilets with many athletes standing like Cristiano Ronaldo over the ball about to take a free kick.
Over Polly Shortts into Tumble Inn and up we go, it is here when the sun pops up. Significantly quicker than previous years. Obviously this makes sense, summer is around the corner for South Africans. By now the layers of clothing has been discarded, gloves off, 17th CR7 free kick moment and I’ve moved to Lion Park. 1st cut off point reached in good time. Next stop Cato Ridge to connect with our Kenfac version of Rassie Erasmus the Waterboy Thofier Najjaar, this guy was a proper soldier getting where he said he would be in good time for us to get refreshments. Cato Ridge check, never been happier to see the big guy in my life. Chicken mayo sandwich, change from the Running vest to my running belt preloaded with vital stock for the next 30kms.
Through the Cato Ridge Cut Off point in good time. From here on life would get significantly tougher. No jokes, just work, work, work, like Rihanna but not, my forehead is smaller. For some reason my heart rate jumps to 185, now this was slightly concerning because I wasn’t doing anything more than a brisk shuffle, getting into a rhythm for the work ahead to Inchanga. Run, walk, run, walk, trying to get this ticker to relax. Nothing doing, so now my run-walk strat became a walk-walk strategy. Very frustrating considering my legs were fine. Eventually it subsides and I get into a rhythm and boom, more forced walking. Now I needed to be at Drummond by 6H10 of running, that was in the bag, easily done with some grit and some grinding through Inchanga. As Makhi one of the bus driver said, Inchanga is like a woman scorned. She wants respect and you must earn her respect. Inchanga chewed me up, but first I thanked God that my kids are privileged. Why you ask? 2 words. Ethembeni School! If that place doesn’t make you give thanks then something is wrong with you. I got to Drummond with enough time to spare, this year missing my club mates who would be there shouting like crazy. From Drummond to Winston park was just as tough because there are many short climbs, climbs that make you want to stop. Anyways, out of Drummond towards Alverstone, Arthur Seat, Phezula Safari Park, past Kearsney Boys, the now FNB fanzone and down into Bothas Village, a vibey happening party place for non runners. The place is a jol, all the big speakers and amps are out. It’s a festival, braai, beers, dancing and sweaty runners making their way through the town to the next cut off point. Winston Park, yassis I see Thofier, happiness, he has my other chicken mayo sandwich. One bite and I deposit it in the bin, gatvol of eating. Still a few minutes to get to WP. I make it, yet again with minutes to spare but now realistically I was cutting it close, doing just enough to coast with my suspect fitness and fatness. Doing the maths, I needed to negotiate 12km to get to Pinetown St John’s Subway in 1h20. A very tall order because at this stage of the race the smaller muscles and quads have been bliksemmed by the descent of Bothas Hill and friends. Going down that ghastly Fields Hill was not fun, thighs screaming for a walk, I’ve got 30 mins for 5km, squeaky bum time…
I get down Fields Turn left and into Pinetown we go, I look at my watch, do the math, 11 minutes for 2km, easy right. Laugh out loudest. Dominic’s legs are stronger than mine at this stage, even though he is 5 months old his poles were much stronger at this point. I tried to get going, yet again the heart jumped, it wasn’t meant to be. I remember Tamsyn saying just look after yourself, “I can’t do this on my own” she was talking about raising our kids. Getting to the cut off point at all costs would not have been smart, decision made, I’d walk to the cut off point at the subway, I’d get in the bus and have the dreaded DNF in the bag again. Not before I had a medic check me out, heart rate unusually high for a chap that walked for 20 minutes, cracking jokes with people in Pinetown who were all very compassionate knowing that cut off at 15h00 had come and gone. Of course there were those guys who made full use of the volume of alcohol in the beer trying to get me going again, “come Angelo, there’s still time to finish.”
The bus is a place where you need to hope that your olfactory system has shut down because that smell can not be described. I’m sure I wasn’t smelling like roses and baby powder but yoh, that was a rough 90mins to spend. I got to the stadium, got to my togbag, saw Merlin sporting his medal, waiting for Abdullah to come in, it was his first one and what an incredible run he had. Enough in the tank to be able to walk the last hour when he needed to.
I don’t have the 2022 medal but I do have the memories and. I do have my lovely family to go home to. Seeing people on the route getting medical treatment was frightening as well as hearing about the Amanzimtoti gentleman that passed away in Westville Hospital due to cardiac arrest. This race doesn’t care about who you are nor does it care about where you are from. Everyone is equal, from CEO to Security Guard, this race will humble you. Congratulations to friends and everyone that lined up and finished, those of us that didn’t finish, we’ll be back next year with all the other crazy buggers.
Struggling Sportsman 
Well done Angelo! Super proud of you my friend.