#Comrades2015 (Part 3) - I've been a little preoccupied...

So back at work, two days after my run. Things quickly fell into normal. I have 2 medals in my pocket and a grin on my face, but most people at work do not run. No fanfare, no flowers, no music... And 1..2..3.. I am back to reality...sigh. A few friends and colleagues come by, phone say congratulations. Most of the day is quiet, catching up with work stuff. My office feels like a prison. Maybe coming to work was not such a great idea after all! Midday I check my phone. Facebook exploded with pictures. As people got home and started uploading pictures, suddenly I remember the feeling again, I feel like I am riding a wave again. I am cool again. I post, I tweet, I blog and phew I remember that feeling. I just did something fantastic. Even if nobody really cares! Sigh, I am my own champion. But the realization of my littleness in this world brought to mind the story of Part 3. How do I say thank you? During race day there is very little time to say thanks to the people along the way that helps you, whether it is supporters or co-runners, random strangers. Sometimes it only hit me later how much a gesture or word really meant to me, I never had time to say "Thank You!".

The real champions are the supporters, the strangers on the road but mostly your willing, long suffering friends who travel the entire day in heat and traffic to see you for 5 seconds next to the road, merely to pack up and trek to the next meeting point. The supporters who patiently sit in the car while you slog on the road to fetch you at the finish. The friends who greet you on the road as if nothing is as great as doing this one thing today. I love you all forever. I know I can never say thanks the way I should say it. The shouts and encouragements next to the road echos in my mind, more than a week after the race. I am so humbled by the people, many non-runners, who just commit fully to the runners. As you move towards the finish, you see people next to the road, some in front of their homes, just camping out for the day, watching the parade of runners go by. The amazing thing is, that many supporters stay for the guys at the back. Some supporters, clearly not runners say silly things. I think it is the enthusiasm that counts not the words. I know it is sometimes tough to here "It's all downhill from here" when you know Polly Shortts are still awaiting you. Just smile. All I hear is the crowd. Even where people crowd too close to the runners it just adds to the atmosphere. It reminds me of the Tour de France on the mountain stages where cyclists are literally cheered up the hills. Some places are like that. It's just people, noise, a beautiful noise.

My ode of thanks is to my supporters, the many anonymous supporters of the Comrades, my fellow Junkies, the runners on the day and my family and friends who supported me via Facebook-Likes and messages. My thank-you-anthem really should be as powerful as an anthem. A long list of names, just hauntingly listed in awe, because without you I would never have been able to make it to the start, never mind the finish.

Christopher Torr wrote a song, Hot Gates. An unbelievable, haunting anthem that chills and inspires at the same time. A piece of music that just captures sin the fewest possible words the essence of the message, so powerful and it echos in your mind. (YouTube - Hot Gates.) 

I wish I could be as eloquent as Christopher Torr. I wish I could write something so powerful. Alas, all I have is a slightly cliched...Thanks for being the wind beneath my wings.

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Hot Gates

London Paris Rome Berlin
Barcelona Washington
Moscow Beijing Tokyo
Jerusalem Jericho
Srebrenica Sebokeng
Sarajevo O Saigon
Hiroshima Rubicon

I can see a fiery, fiery glow
Even as the sun is sinking low
I can see a horseman on the run
Oh my daughter, oh my son

Frankfurt New York Lockerbie
Amajuba Bellevue
Chappaquiddick Waterloo
Heilbron Hobhouse Gettysburg
Belfast Budapest Baghdad
Berchtesgaden Stalingrad
Sharpeville My Lai Boipatong
Delville Wood El Alamein
St Helena Mitchell’s Plain
Belsen Buchenwald Auschwitz
Nagasaki O Versailles
Armageddon Thermopylae
Waco Waco Bethlehem
Dunkirk Dover Normandy
Bucharest St Petersburg
Carthage Dresden Babylon

Balaklava Austerlitz

Words and music: Christopher Torr