From the rendition of Chariots of Fire, National Anthem and passionate vocals of 18,000 locals in unison singing La Shosholza (a traditional South African work song often referred to as the second national anthem) through 90kms of spectators and supporters chanting numerous Aussie Aussie Aussie, Oi Oi Oi all the way to the finish line in the magnificent Moses Mabhida stadium, Comrades in South Africa is a race like no other.
Time: 0450 at the start line in Pietermaritzburg and although chilly by Cairns standards, I had decided to run in my Aussie singlet (with a roughly sewn-on red 60 front and rear to signify my age group) appropriate coloured AURA buff and a pair of light gloves. At this stage I was standing in my recently purchased ‘hoodie’ which would be discarded just prior to the start and thrown over the fence for collection by charities. I was also wearing my 800km old runners due to a sole separation on my race shoes two days earlier, certainly not my preference for a road race of this magnitude and downhill intensity.
The atmosphere in the start pens was nothing short of electric. I knew from the previous year that the 40-minute wait would go surprisingly quick, and as luck would have it I bumped into Brad from WA whom I met last year under the same circumstances. We had a quick chat and wished each other well.
Suddenly it was time and everyone surged forward. The traditional cock crow was sounded followed shortly thereafter by the magnified thunder of the start gun firing. 20,000 runners tried to move in unison, but it was not possible for those further back. It was okay for me in B group crossing in approximately one minute, but for my friend Lorraine further back in the field it would take at least 10 mins to cross the start mat. As the race finish is gun time, this is 10 mins lost from an event with numerous cut offs to the final 12 hour gun.
With a 0530 official start and sunrise at 0650, the run out through Pietermaritzburg was by street light but due to the sheer volume of runners it was near impossible to see any obstruction on the road and I feared tripping over the kerbed lane dividers and cats eyes. Luckily I escaped with only a couple of heart thumping close calls, others were not so lucky. Luckily first light was approaching and the field was starting to spread.
Sunrise was magnificent, and I was feeling energised and about to head up to Umlass Road, the steepest climb of the race. Although this was a down run, there is a surprising amount of ascent, particularly in the first 52km which needs to be run well to have good legs for the quad smashing down that follows.
From Umlass Road to Botha’s Hill, I was feeling strong and enjoying high fiving the local kids, acknowledging all the Aussie support by waving and responding with the odd Oi Oi Oi, and soaking up the endless energy of the spectators, supporters and entertainment of bands, choirs and themed and endless aid stations (of which there were 44).
Although I had maintained a steady pace to the start of the downhill proper (top of Botha’s Hill), at approximately 60km, my quads starting talking to me which was earlier than I had anticipated, was this a symptom of my old runners I mused, regardless I knew I was in for a hard finish. However I was still enjoying the run and surprisingly caught up to the 7:30 bus. A little voice was saying ‘stay with the bus’, but I didn’t listen to that voice of reason and pressed on past it. Although my quads were groaning early and I was keeping a reasonable pace on the downhill I knew that the ups and flats would become a real challenge as the race progressed. I played tag with another Aussie, Ryan, a couple of times during the race; he was good company and provided a change of focus and a welcome distraction.
Due to a decision to change my nutrition management on the day, a stop was required around the 70km mark for an untimely break as I realised I was way behind on my normal intake. Wondering what impact my poor decision may have later, I knew I had to refocus and push on. During this break, the 7:30 bus passed by and I started off again in their wake, however, as it was still downhill I managed to catch the bus again and this time I decided to try and hang with it. But with my quads now starting to scream I knew I couldn’t hold it, so I decided to run/walk any inclines in an effort conserve energy. I watched the bus slowly disappear, never to be seen again that day.
About 85km down and I was on the dreaded flat and, as I suspected, run/walking was the only way I could keep moving forward with any pace. The Moses Mabhida stadium starting looming in to view and was a much-welcomed sight. With only 3km to go my pace had slipped below 6:45. My legs were filled with pain and fatigue and I yearned for the finish line to swallow me up – I just had to hang on.
Finally the 1km marker passed and the stadium filled my vision and I started feeling a sense of relief. And then it happened. A runner with a red 60 on his singlet passed on my right. I didn’t know if I was leading my age group but a spectator had mentioned earlier that I was potentially in the top three.
Shit,I thought, now what? But before I knew it and with about 800m to go I was in pursuit and somehow passed my rival. But could I maintain the pace or would I literally fall in a heap in the last straight? I didn’tlook back with the risk of falling due to my fatigued state so I pressed on into the stadium and the final 100m.
A sprint finish at Comrades was not part of my race strategy but here I was, finish line in front and a very worthy opponent very close behind. Turning the final corner, I focused on the finish line and managed to maintain my position.
The relief of crossing the line was immense and I’d never felt so spent after a race. I turned to congratulate my opponent, but as international runners have a separate recovery area I was quickly marshalled down a separate chute away from the finish area and unfortunately missed the opportunity to congratulate him on a great race and for spurring me on to a finish I would not have thought I was capable of.
With wobbly legs I was quickly presented with my next challenge, making my way up the steps to the top row of the stadium to enter the international recovery area. It was a very slow and clumsy climb, fortunately the accompanying pain was somewhat dulled due to the adrenaline and elation of the finish.
It was not until I had retrieved my backpack and accessed my phone and social media that I became aware I had indeed managed to achieve first in my age category and subsequently a back to back victory by a mere 16 seconds.
I was so proud to have been flying the Aussie colours. Maybe I’ll catch up with my rival Errol Shear (who was third last year) in 2019 if I’m fortunate enough to make it to the start line at the 94th running of Comrades ‘The Ultimate Human Race’.
Pictured (feature): David Von Senden enjoying his race at this year’s Comrades. Photograph – Supplied.
Pictured (above): Von Senden crossing the finish line with a sprint. Photograph – Supplied.
