My first attempt at Comrades.
Since I wasn't sure if I would make it to the start line with my injury (lost the whole Jan & Feb to recovery) I lastminute.com booked accommodation and flights etc and decided this year would be school fees. Like in private elite school fees but ok, I can somehow justify it all. The accommodation looked fensie on paper but had many issues and cost me 2 night with almost no sleep but at least I got 5 hours in the night before the race. Rocked up an hour before the gun and checked into Group 2 batch Q. Effortlessly. The whole vibe was amazing and I was blissfully unaware of how much I would hate myself very soon. The gunshot shocked me into reality but the start on my Garmin was pressed and within 4min we crossed the start line. No jostling, bumping or tripping, just sheep being herded to slaughter. Again, it was smooth as butter and I latched onto the 11:45 bus and felt optimistic...
0-30km
I sipped my hydration and nibbled my gels, like I practiced every weekend. I knew my gut would require me to stop at +/- 12km because that's just me. And hey presto like clockwork I stopped and had to hustle a bit to catch up to the bus and off we went. But then out of nowhere my stomach cramped up on 25km and I had to call upon George. Twice the taste, zero the calories. I had to drop the bus since running worsened the cramping and I had to power walk trot my way to 30km. I searched high & low but couldn't find any of those 2 ton promised potatoes. The 1 table I did manage to see some I was smack in the middle of the road and in a big group. Hubby managed to get me some and my cramping eased. But I realized I was far behind on my carb intake. The Coach Parry band said I was still on track to make a 11:55 finish if I stay consistent.
30-60km
I don't remember much other than the blue haze of the porta potties. I tried to eat gels & potatoes conservatively but by now I had no sense of humor and knew anything going into my body would cause my stomach to cramp up and be rejected either at the top or bottom. I took a cramp block and just shuffled on, by now even the 12h bus waved me goodbye. 41km in. I just wanted to go further than 51km - the farthest I've ever been. I gripped my pacing band like a lifeline and was behind by 5min now. Called hubby and he said he was at the 32km to go mark. Another Vitality runner gravitated towards me and we shared our misery and misgivings. I ate a sucker some aid station gave me and wow did that revive me. I wasted time walking and chatting with Mpho, already having given up. But then the cramping stopped and the will to fight kicked in again. I ate my first gel in over 15km's and it stayed put. I pushed through knowing I was now more than 10min behind to even make the 12h cut off. Miracles do happen don't they?
60-90km
3h45min to run 30km. For most runners here this is a run in the park. Not for me. With no energy and already in a salt loss deficit (I bleed salt worse that the dead sea) I just prayed somehow I could make it. I went into dark deep places and pushed, refusing to acknowledge anything my body is yelling at me. The down running was excruciating. The crowd was amazing. My fellow comrades encouraging. I didn't look at a watch or a sign just kept pushing. 10km to go! 1h10m... I just had to push HARDER. And I did. For 1km. Then my core, shoulders, glutes, quads and hips literally just seized. I couldn't even shuffle. I stood frozen. The one muscle I was certain of would fail me, stood strong : my injured calves. The irony. I felt an arm snake around my waste as another Vitality runner embraced me and together we shuffled on like 2 sad neon pink grannies to the cutoff point at Sherwood 1km ahead or a bailer bus takes pity on us. That was a very special moment for me. We laughed and hugged and celebrated our 80km's and made light of the fact that we were so close and yet so far. She will never know how much I truly needed her at that moment, and as the sun set and we hobbled onto the bailer bus... We 'made it' to the finish line with 2 minutes to spare before cut off... Just not the way we expected or wanted.
This was the hardest thing I have ever attempted. I'm in awe of my body; one I regularly discredit, neglect and sometimes despise. I did not learn my lesson. I will be back next year to finish what I've started. The race was so well organized and reverberates into the soul of a special kind of crazy person. And I'm forever grateful divorce is too expensive and that my dearest husband already made peace with my ambitions.
