#Comrades2015 (Part 2) - Race Day

Once you've run your first Comrades it is like gravity, you need the second one. Comrades will always be a race of two halves. I would struggle to feel satisfied with just an "Up" or just a "Down" run. After completing #Comrades2014, I was tired and a little shell shocked. Mentally and physically the training and the stress took it's toll. We took 3 months off, pretending to think about whether to do the race again or not. Carl did not finish the first time, thus he felt unfinished and came so close it was worth considering a second attempt. We entered again. It took me nearly a year (and 87 km) to really get to grips with the #Comrades2014. My conclusion? It was merely the beginning. My first Comrades was just an opening move in a very complex chess game. I knew from the beginning that the race would be different. I tried not to panic about the big "Up" part. As race day grew closer, I started worrying a lot about that 37km in the beginning that is just up.

#Comrades2015 start

On the 31st of May 2015, I presented myself at the start. At 4AM we walked into our batch (the last one) and sat down in a muggy, humid Durban street, waiting for 5:30. I was nervous and in the car down from PMB could hardly eat my breakfast of eggs and bacon. I nibbled a bit on the eggs and hoped it is good enough. My first Comrades, although life affirming and all that good stuff, was a blurry, fear and pain filled 12 hours affair. For the second Comrades, I was determined not to let the occasion overwhelm me, but I so badly wanted the back-to-back novice medal. I yearned for it like I cannot remember yearning for anything before.

Our training was very different this year. We found the Running Junkies. The coach and athletes became part of our lives, we saw them more than we saw our families - 3 sessions a week. I never imagined that this  would happen, but we ended up training for #Comrades2015 with a group of people that constantly inspire and push me - we found a running family. It's been the real magic for me this year. I worked harder than ever before in my life because they are all so fast and dedicated. The Junkies supported me, commented on each small victory and just generally became our anchor during the long hard training months before #Comrades2015.

The Comrades Junkies, Saturday
before #Comrades2015

At the start of this year's Comrades race (and the week running up to it), my nerves were shot. Sitting there from just after 4AM, waiting for the big moment was the scariest part of the race for me. We'd been up since 2:15, got dressed like robots, heated up our breakfast (prepared nervously the night before) and got into the car The drive down was about 1 hour and we got dropped off at the start with very little pomp or ceremony, a quick hug from Lesley and alone we were. As we walked towards the back, the last seeding batch, I kept thinking about the moment, the people, the stories, our story and the medal I so desperately wanted, and all I could smell was city decay, urine and rubbish, and heat. I immediately knew that the sacrifical layer we were wearing was going to be unnecessary. All the doubt and fears just nibbled away at my insides, but I reminded myself to be alert, try to feel the atmosphere, try to be in the moment. And don't panic. When finally people moved and squeezed together and the music started, the tears rolled freely. There is nothing like it. The experience of being part of something this magical is beyond dictionary words, it is all in the soul space. One is transformed to another plane of existence in a manner of speaking. A world where anything is possible. Even people like me can run the Comrades.

I want to believe.

The coach told us all to experience the start, but after the gun it is back to business. Everybody said the up run's start is faster than the down run (last year it took us 9 minutes to cross the starting mat), but due to the size of the race this year, it being the 90th, it took forever to get going. We crossed the mat over 7 minutes after the start and then still walked for a long time before the crowd could slowly spread out. All in all, not a great start, but we had planned for a slow start, I was fine. Our strategy was to break the race up into smaller pieces of 5km sections. Getting water in the first hour was not an option. The waterpoints were too crowded. I just managed the crowds as best I could. Tried not to despair and tried to Keep Calm. 

Our target was to get to halfway in 5:30 or less. Thus aiming to run a sub-11 pace in the first half, which by the way is 37 km (or so) of up hill. Not kidding! Ambitious I thought, but the safe play because of the extra distance and hills. The first half was 877 m longer this year due to Pinetown roadworks, and it thus meant that Drummond was actually a "logistical" halfway not the mathematical half. Up and up we went. The first few hours flew by, we were chronically bumping into the 11:30 Pink Drive bus, which disconcerted me because our calculations showed that we were more or less on track on our plan, a little behind due to the slow start mainly, so why are we constantly running with them. After a few discussions, and a few grumbles around me from other runners, I concluded that the bus was fast. I tried to push it out of my mind and just focus. On Fields Hill, Carl and I lost each other in the people. We had earlier seen Brenda and Werner, both amazing runners. It was fantastic to see them, we chatted, gave an update on our targets and I thought I was going too fast. I had assumed, because we were in the last batch, that we would never see any of our friends. Some of my favourite moments on the road was when I met up with some of our Junkie family and supporters. Weirdly enough, I met up with most of the Junkies in the race and some several times. I saw Bronwynne and Lisa, two fellow Junkies, supporting their Junkies on the day just after Pinetown and nearly cried. I saw them again later in the day and Bronwynne walked with me for a bit, I cannot tell you how much that meant to me. Talking to somebody that you know and who knows who you are and cares. My spirit just soared. The great story is that all of us who started the race, finished. This is quite phenomenal, each one had their own battle, the two K/Carls had to run under-trained due to injuries. Both of them are giants. I think each of us had a niggle or a cold or something, and all of us had to fight a demon or ten. Keep in mind that of the nearly 17 000 starters in 2015, about 4000 people did not finish the race in the allotted 12 hours. So the Junkies did really well, their hard work paying off. The spirit of the people I trained with carried me through. I met Joseph quite late in the day. I thought he was going to run away from me, but he just told me to keep going, because I was doing really well. I am so grateful for those small words of encouragement. For in that moment, I think I started to believe a sub-11 is possible. It was always going to be tight for me. I knew I had to run sub-7min/km for the last 25 km to get there before the cut-off. It sounds plausible, and if it was just a 25km run, I'd have no doubts. This 25km however needed to be under 7 min/km whilst crossing the infamous Pollys.

BellaJogga in action 

The Comrades distance markers count down. Basically always telling you how much is left, for longer races I find this very motivational and easier to digest and it definitely helps you fool your brain a bit. At 50 km remaining, I finally activated my Garmin Forerunner 620; that would be my target, to get home before my battery runs out (about 6-6.5 hours). I told myself: Hey, you finished Om die Dam in under six hours, surely you can do this 50 in less than 6 hours and 30 minutes. This was the pep-talk I gave myself - a few times. That was my goal. All I had to do was keep the pace constant and manage the hills well. I kept doubting my math. Did I get it wrong somehow. I got to the cut-off points on the route generally an hour ahead of the official cut-off times, it totally confused me. I kept thinking that I must be confused or tired or crazy. All I felt initially was relief that I was safe. Safe at halfway, safe, safe really safe. I was going to make it my brain started saying to me. I started to believe. I started to do the math in my head, kept counting the hours on my fingers to make sure I don't do it wrong. But over and over I came to same conclusion I will get my back-to-back. And if all goes REALLY well, it's going to be a tight finish for 11 hours! I kept thinking to myself, that surely I am making a mistake somewhere. Surely this cannot be real. It never changed. As I stuck with it, the calculations kept indicating that it's going to be a tight call for sub-11. All I had to do was keep it up, see how it goes and then when I get to 25km, do the calcs again. I told myself at 32 km remaining, that it does not matter what happens, even if I finish in 11:01 it would be a great story, if I am the last one in, it would still be a great story, if I am the first one not to get in, it would be a great story. I really, really did not care. 

Somewhere on the road....

Inchanga was tough and after I got over there I just kept ticking over, not focusing on anything but the next hill, the next waterpoint or the next time I would see a friendly face.  I knew that I would see Lesley at Camperdown. I'd forgotten how far that is from Halfway however, it just never came. I thought around every bend, maybe now? Then no, just another hill, in the heat of the day, all alone. I was so hot and so lonely, so in need of a friend. I kept flooding my head with ice cold water to cool down (this year's cap was extra hot I thought).

Whenever I got to a bad hill and there were many of them, I told myself that I can get a walk at the tree halfway up the hill, or that I should just run until the next waterpoint or the next marker or that blue banner or anything that was just a bit further than where I was. I rewarded myself with a walk, counting to 30 (probably 20 seconds or so). Then I ran again until my legs burned or I reached a "milestone". This kept my mind busy and made me focus on the progress. The hard part was Harrison Flats (not flat at all, but a story for another day), just the relentless loneliness and the heat. Runners were spread out here. Many people were walking by now, many just hobbling or shuffling, and the quiet, the deathly slog. In my mind I was running like a gazelle, but I know I was also just shuffling up the hills. At 32km remaining, a RAC running came past me, and one guy chirped "Just a Tough One to go now!" People giggled. I giggled. So funny. I think the poor RAC guy just nodded. It spurred me on. I know how to run 32 km. 

#Comrades2015 medals

Another breakthrough moment for me was when I checked my pace on my Garmin and noticed that I am running at 6:15 min/km down hills - nearing Pollys. I was pushing - not sprinting, but somehow I ran at this pace! Something I never did before in a long race (at the end). Then the stress hit again every time I started pushing a bit harder, my quad muscle went into a spasm just above my right knee. I held back a bit on the pounding and managed not to hobble too badly (I think). At the top of little Pollys I nearly cried. It's a dead drop straight down to the bottom of the valley and you know, the pain of real Polly is coming. This is when I thought: Oh well, I tried, Polly Shortts will probably cost me the sub-11. But I will finish and it will be great and it does not matter. That mountain of a damn hill is just so daunting. I buckled down again and continued with my "walk-run" strategy - yay me and Caroline! - and some way up Pollys, runners started shouting my name as I passed them. 

"Go Isabel!" the first time this happened I nearly tripped over my own feet! I pulled up a bit and kept going a bit longer and I smiled (maybe I grimaced) and I waived feebly. But I kept going. I think I walked twice up Pollys before I saw the traffic lights. I realized with a start that this is it. I did it. I looked at my watch. It was true, I was keeping the sub-7 min target. I was so tired. My legs ached, I did not realise it at this stage, but two fist size bruises had formed on my shins. I was so pre-occupied with getting to the finish that I had not even wasted a few seconds to check what the heck was aching so much.

Down I went. I had ~55 minutes or so to run the 7 km. Clearly on a normal day, this is easy. I tried that tactic on my brain but even I couldn't sell that to myself at that stage. So, I just moved as fast as I could. I came into the Toyota stretch realizing that I could still make it. I was running like a rabbit. My pace increased to under 6 min/km and I just threw myself forward. Cramping leg be damned. I felt like I was flying. I somehow did the unthinkable. I ran the Comrades, my back-to-back in an hour faster than first try. My fastest lap? Over Pollys! 

Never would I have thought even in my dreams that I would be able to get a bronze. This, my secret dream. 

So many other things happened on this day, and wonderful experiences that should be shared, but that one moment will forever be my quiet moment of glory. Nobody was there to see it, apart from people watching the live app updates, but it did not matter. I smiled and smiled and sprinted into that stadium like I was a winner. I felt like one and nobody can ever take that away from me. #Comrades2015 was the most amazing experience of my life. The toughest and hardest thing I have tackled. The riskiest project I've undertaken, and we came out together on the other end. We looked each other in the eye and shook on it. 31 May 2015 was a good day.  

(Clearly Part 3 will follow)