[editor's note: The following is the most epic race report ever published on this blog, penned by our own Gareth Coville. Gareth recently medalled at the legendary Comrades Marathon.]
It is difficult to describe to non-South Africans the impact that this race has on the nation’s psyche. It is by far the oldest, biggest and most recognized road race in the country and the largest and oldest ultra-marathon in the world. It is a point-to-point, roughly 56-mile race that alternates each year between Durban and Pietermaritzburg (the “up” run) and Pietermaritzburg and Durban (the “down” run). It was started in 1921 as a commemoration to fallen soldiers during WWI and over the 86 years it has been organized (there was a brief break during WW2), it has grown in leaps and bounds while still holding to its history and tradition.
One of my fondest childhood memories is sleepily switching on the TV at 5:30am every year on Comrades race day to listen to the “Chariots of Fire” music and traditional cock crow that signaled the start of the race and then watching the runners head off on their epic day-long adventure. In the mid-morning my family and I would then head over to a family friend’s house for champagne breakfast and spend the day yelling at the TV, willing friends and family members to cross the finish the race within the allotted time.
Comrades is the only race that the average non-running South African knows and follows (almost all will watch at least part of the race during the day) and the question that would inevitably arise whenever I chat with a stranger and mention that I ran for sport was “How many Comrades have you done?” as if to do anything less would not count you as a runner.
It is with this backdrop that I arose at 3:30am in Durban on Sunday morning, with Jon (a good friend of mine from San Francisco, who was also running) and the support crew consisting of my father and fiancée (Aileen). We were able to get to the start by 4:30 without any fanfare. After some light stretching, I wished Jon good luck and found my corral. There were thousands of runners buzzing around in the corrals trying hard to contain their nervous excitement. A few minutes before the race started the national anthem was sung followed by 12,000 runners erupting into a very moving rendition of Shosholoza (South Africa’s unofficial national anthem). The “Chariots of Fire” music started to blare over the speakers, there was the cock crow and we were off.
Everyone I had spoken with before the race had told me to hold back and take it as easy as possible at the beginning. With this in mind, I positioned myself at the back of the corral and tried my hardest to hold back and run at what felt like a slow jog (i.e. 9 min/mile). Fortunately this wasn’t too hard to do, as almost immediately we hit our first hill and began to climb our way out of Durban. Even at 5:30 in the morning there were throngs of crowds everywhere, many of them wearing a coat over their pajamas and cup of coffee in hand, cheering us on.
At about mile 13, I summited Cowies Hill, the first of the big 5 climbs. I finally had my first break from the climbing and ran through a relatively flat section of the course at Pinetown. I found Aileen and my father on the sidelines, exchanged my long-sleeve t-shirt for a hat and waterbottle, told them that all was well and jumped back into the steady stream of runners. 13 miles down, 43 to go … this isn’t so bad.
After Pinetown, the runners were greeted with an even larger and steeper climb up Fields Hill. Looking back you could see Durban nestled down below and the ocean beyond it. The sun was still rising and the weather was cool and dry, perfect for running. I had been running uphill for almost 3 hours now and the “slow jog” was starting to feel like more of a challenge. Finally I got to the top of Fields Hill and had a few miles of flattish/downhill running during which I could recuperate and increase my speed. But, almost as soon as I started to get into a comfortable stride, the climbing started again. This time up the 3rd of the 5 big climbs, Botha’s Hill.
I crested Botha’s Hill comfortably and carried on down to the carnival that was taking place at the halfway mark, Drummond. By this stage of the race, the runners had started to spread out a little more, however the crowd support was as strong as ever. Now the supporters were no longer in PJ’s with coffees but instead setting up BBQ’s on the side of the road and offering runners beers. At Drummond there seemed to be thousands of people cheering us on as well as a DJ and cheerleaders. It was a real party atmosphere and I was almost tempted to take a break and join in the celebrations. I crossed the halfway mark at 4:15. This put me on target for an 8:30 Comrades, but I knew that this wasn’t going to happen. My legs were starting to tire from the constant climbs and I knew that things were going to fall apart once I reached the 32-mile mark (which was the distance of the longest training run that I had completed).
After Drummond, we were greeted with even more climbing (is this starting to get repetitive?), this time up a shorter but steep hill called Inchanga. By now, many of the runners around me were starting to take breaks and walk for a bit. I ploughed on and was thrilled to get to the top at a slow and steady pace but without walking. Now 4 of the 5 major climbs were completed and we were onto the “flat” section of the course. The second half of the race was still extremely hilly, but fortunately it was more of the rolling variety where there would always be a downhill to relieve you after yet another short steep climb. I was starting to tire and found this section really tough. Besides some of the towns that we passed through the crowds got fewer as did the shade and the sun beat down mercilessly on us. By the time I found my dad and Aileen at Camperdown I was really struggling and still had 15 miles to go. I had wanted to break 9 hours, but at this stage realized that it wasn’t going to happen and decided to take it easy and just get through the race.
Everyone I had spoken to told me that I would go through good patches and bad patches during the race. The next 8 miles were my bad patch and this section was by far the mentally and physically toughest for me. I felt exhausted and wanted to have some pace or time goal to aim for but also wanted to try and save some energy for the final of the big 5 climbs, Polly Shortts. Polly Shortts is the most famous climb in Comrades folklore as this is where the winner typically makes his final move to win the race and a very small percentage of the runners are able to complete it without stopping and walking for at least a little while. It is a very steep, mile and half climb that occurs with less than 6 miles to go to the end. After a runner has summited this climb they know that they are home free and have a gentle descent to the adoring fans at the finish line.
When I finally reached the base of Polly Shortts, I was greeted by my mom, friend (Shaun) and his wife (Wytske). Shaun gave me some much needed company up most of the hill. But by this time I was physically spent, knew that I wasn’t going to break 9 hours and decided to just walk it. At the top of the hill, I was within the Pietermaritzburg city limits and the crowd support was huge. The cheering from the sidelines and knowledge that there were no more big hills was exactly what I needed and I was able to gradually get back into a “good patch”, picking up the pace and heading for home. As I got closer and closer to the finish line, the crowds got louder and louder and my spirits were lifted. Suddenly I had the energy to “sprint” (i.e. 8:15 min/mile pace) the last two miles overtaking about 100 runners. I crossed the finish line in 9:18, utterly exhausted but thrilled that I had now finished “the ultimate human race”.
Afterwards, I quickly found my family, Aileen and Jon. Jon had had an amazing race finishing in 7:41 and missing a prestigious silver medal by only 11 minutes. Finishing was awesome, but the best drama was yet to come. Comrades is famous for its brutal cut-off time. Runners have 12 hours to finish the course (this is roughly equivalent to about a 5 hour marathon) and typically half of the field finishes in the last hour. We all stayed at the finish line cheering all of the runners on as they arrived in ever increasing droves and the clock steadily ticked along to 12 hours. In the dying minutes of the race, hundreds of runners were running, crawling or dragging themselves across the finish line. The crowds on the sideline were getting more and more vocal, hoping that their yells and cheers would provide the friends still out on the course with the final ounce of energy needed to cross the line in time. With a minute to go, an official walked to the finish line with a loaded revolver in his hand and turned his back to the runners. Ten seconds to go and everyone in the crowd started a countdown while the final runners feverishly clamored for the line. At 0, the gun was shot and the finish line closed. The last runner to cross the line became a local hero and received his 15 minutes of TV fame, while the remaining runners on the course trudged in, resigned to the fact that they would have to try harder next year.
As I look back on the race, I am thrilled that I finally did it. The hills brought me to my knees but the crowds, support stations (roughly one every 1.25 miles) and tradition where unlike anything I have experienced before. Physically I held up well considering that I didn’t suffer from any dehydration, chaffing or blisters and the stiffness lasted only three days after the event. I felt that my 9:18 was an honest result based on my limited training and injury issues over the last few months. I now realize just how hard it is to get a silver medal (7.5 hour finish time or 8 minute/mile pace) and that only makes me want to achieve it even more. It will be a while until I can persuade my future wife to plan another trip to South Africa exclusively for the race (secretly I am hoping that a family member will plan their wedding for May in South Africa), but the bug has bitten and I’ll be back.
Below are some links of interest:
* Jon’s post-race report – http://jonkroll.blogspot.com/2011/05/comrades-marathon-2011.html
* Shosholoza sung at the start of the race - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEcBK9WPZuQ
* Clip of a runner barely making it across the line in 9 hours and receiving his Bill Rowan medal (half silver, half bronze). Classic Comrades drama – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgpNzZCqWzk
* The end of the race - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEWuBasQUBc
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