ast year, when I heard about the inaugural Ironman being staged at St. George, Utah, I wasted no time in signing up for it on May 1st, 2009. Two years had passed since my PR at Ironman Lake Placid, and I was looking for a new challenge — plus I’ve always wanted to run the St. George Marathon, having heard about the stunning, beautiful vistas that were in Southern Utah.
I was staring down at the arrival of my 50th birthday in February, and with each new passing day I knew I wanted to enter "middle age" with a flourish, with meaning, and with a challenge that would surpass my 40th birthday. That was when I did my first Ironman and felt that my “forties” would be an exciting time marked by achievements in many aspects of my personal, professional and athletic life. When I heard that this year would also mark the 85th anniversary running of the Comrades Marathon, I was excited and eager to secure an entry and give myself a trip to South Africa as my 50th birthday gift — and hopefully also scratch Comrades off my bucket list of things to do, places to see and goals to accomplish.
As an endurance athlete with over 35 marathons, nearly 10 ultras and 7 Ironmans to my credit, I think it's fair to say I’ve lived my life on the edge, lived to take that proverbial leap of faith and just jump without being asked or prodded by anything more than a deep seated belief in my ability and willingness to do whatever it will take to get me across the finish line. So when I received an entry into Comrades on the day of the NYC Marathon, I now knew that I would need to train for two big events within a month — the Ironman in Utah on May 1st followed by Comrades on May 30th in Durban!
ast November was a hectic month that had me racing the NYC Marathon, followed two weeks later by the Ironman 70.3 World Championships in Clearwater, Florida with my client Chef Rocco DiSpirito, and then back home a week later around Thanksgiving for the Knickerbocker 60K in Central Park.
These would all be great tests to see what would be needed from me the following May.
I took a well deserved break for three weeks before resuming my training around Christmas, by first putting back on some running mileage before riding exclusively outdoors throughout the winter in the park and up to Nyack, placing a broad emphasis on hill training — given what I’d heard about both the course in Utah and in South Africa.
I'd be on the bike doing up to 15 hill repeats up Harlem Hill, looking at the same blue coated sheet of ice many might remember back in January
and February in the Northern section of the park, and I was grateful when winter started to release its icy grip somewhere around March so I could
focus on longer rides of 5 to 6 hours.
remember thinking in February, at my 50th birthday party that Elle threw for me, that both the Ironman and our trip to South Africa seemed still so far off as we froze here in NYC drinking at the South African wine bar where we celebrated with lots of friends from the Flyers. And it still seemed so far away when we went to Jamaica for a little respite from the cold in early March — but then April seemed to come so quickly and the countdown began, together with the anxiety and thoughts nagging my mind as to whether I had invested enough time in the pool swimming, on the roads cycling or in the park running.
It would all now be put to the test, when on May 1st I got into the 54 degree water at Sand Hollow reservoir and treaded water before the 7:00 AM start of the Ironman with 2,100 other triathletes, and my day's journey began. In spite of the cold water, I had a strong swim and was able to exit the water with numb feet and get on my bike, only to see my right aero pad fly away after just a couple of miles with perhaps the cool night temps compromising the glue that held the pad on. As I watched it fly away, I hoped that it wouldn't be an omen for how my ride and how my day would proceed.
t. George is visually stunning and well worth a visit, but it's also gaining a reputation as one of the tougher Ironman races to do, given the demanding multiple climbs and elevation of the bike course and then the relentless hills that follow on the marathon run. In the end, I just felt proud to be one of the finishers on May 1st. and I then took a day to relax in Las Vegas after first seeing the awe inspiring beauty of Zion national park.
After coming home to NYC and trying to reestablish my routine of NYRR BRiX classes, coaching the Lend a Hand India and Team Lupus charities, and working with personal clients, I woke up one morning and said to Elle with a startled look on my face, that we would be leaving for South Africa in just one week!
The three or so weeks between the Ironman and flying to Durban for Comrades seemed to scream by, and the only long run I chose to get in — just 10 days after the Ironman — was a 2+ hour run to the George Washington Bridge and back. Then once again, I tried to ease my anxiety and rest my mind and body for the long trip ahead.
omrades is called the Ultimate Human race and I found out why on Sunday May 30th, when I was one of the “lucky’ novice entrants who were given one of 5,000 slots that sold out in a day — after 16,000 slots had been previously filled by past Comrades finishers — and received a confirmed entry for my first Comrades.
The results site lists 23,568 entrants with approx 15,600 finishers, but I have no way of knowing how many actually made it to the start or had dropped out through attrition, injury or — perhaps finding their “sanity” — withdrew from the race.
I’ve wanted to run Comrades for the past 15 years, as it has always held a mystique and a lure both for its location and challenge to the mind, body and spirit. Each would sorely be tested as I woke up at 1:30 AM Sunday morning, the 30th of May.
Elle and I had arrived in Durban Friday afternoon about 3 PM after a grueling 14 hour non stop flight from New York to Johannesburg, where we then transfered to a second flight to Durban. We spent Saturday going to the expo, walking for a bit around Durban and relaxing by the pool, before having dinner and then bedtime by 8:00. Unfortunately, I only got 2 hours of sleep from 8-10 PM, and just tried to relax in bed until the wake up and bus boarding at 2:30 for the 56 mile drive to the race start in Pietermaritzburg that would then follow the “down” route to the race finish 89Km away in Durban.
The start in Pietermaritzburg amid lit up buildings was very orderly, but often emotional, with African chants and the playing of the South African anthem. At 5:30 AM, we were off on our journey with the country side before us — in darkness for the first hour until the sun came up and helped warm a very chilly morning.
Each year the course is listed as either an “UP” or “DOWN” year as far as whether it starts in Pietermaritzburg and finishes in Durban or the reverse. For the 85th anniversary race we had a down course, which didn’t mean we had it easy, but just meant that most of the long hills were at least in the early to mid stages of the race. The race is lined with spectators throughout, and the hills at Comrades, while not particularly steep, are instead as long as 2-3 Km. The resulting long down hills made you feel like your quads would just explode.
Things were going well for me through the 60Km split where I was on pace for a 10 or so hour finish and really focused on staying in the moment, feeding off the energy of the huge crowds that lined the race route with the helicopters overhead broadcasting the race, which is televised nationally throughout the day in SA.
In American Marathons we have pace groups that are organized and very helpful for those time goal determined, but in South Africa these pace groups are called “buses” where you can either get on say a 10 or 11 hour bus and participate in the walk breaks or just run/walk on your own throughout the course. I basically started out with a 10 hour bus through the 60Km, but as my body as well as my spirit started to break down, I switched to an 11 hour bus, and loved the chanting that the South African runners were doing while running, and was really impressed with their energy, enthusiasm and comradeship which was on display throughout the day — with each runner calling one another "brother".
My race unraveled at about the 70Km split with lactic acid having a field day on my quads, my stomach bloated and producing little urine (I would later need a post race IV) despite my drinking either PowerAde, cola or water which came in little plastic baggies you needed to carefully bite into or they would burst. I purposely ate often and would alternate between chips, oranges or cold potatoes dipped in salt, to offset dehydration and nausea, but as the kilometers slowly ticked down I was getting worse — though I knew I would make the 12 hour cutoff, but would not make my desired goal of a 10 hour finish.
I basically walked most of the last 9Km along with many others, often frustrated to tears by my performance and inability to generate any running, but with each step, somewhat relieved that I would at least be one of the “lucky” ones to beat the cutoff and “conquer” Comrades. This is the primary reason most come to Comrades from near and far, drawn by it’s challenges and notoriety, and the wish to enter the Kingsmead Stadium finish filled with thousands of cheering people and just cross the finish line before the gun again sounds and a human chain of men appears at exactly 12 hours and actually blocks those still approaching from crossing the finish line.
In an Ironman there’s a strict 17 hour cutoff, but at least they let you cross the line — though you are not listed as an official finisher — but I’ve never seen anything so “cruel” or ruthless as I saw at Comrades, where we were all screaming at the runners with just seconds remaining before the cutoff to make it to the finish. Those runners who do not make the cutoff just drop in their tracks from exhaustion and bury their heads in their hands prone on the ground.
I realized that I hadn’t trained properly for Comrades, lending more time to being ready for the Ironman rather than finding 3-4 Marathons to run before Comrades and being better “run” prepared. But in the end, Comrades certainly lived up to it’s billing and tested my mind and body like no other race has ever done. I feel both grateful to be a part of its rich history and to be among its finishers and to remember it always as a journey worth taking.
hat evening we celebrated Elle’s 30th on the 30th with a bunch of Americans, including Bart Yasso from Runners World and his wife Laura. We stayed well into the evening at the bar in the Hilton where we were staying, everybody toasting our race, toasting Elle and singing her "Happy Birthday", and thanking her for her support as she had volunteered and stayed in Kingsmead Stadium throughout the day!
We left for Capetown the next morning — I could barely walk, and at times my legs would seize and spasm just walking on the street, with my angst ridden cries startling those around us. After Elle let them know that I had finished Comrades, I would often be congratulated.
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This article is an expansion of Scott's report of his Comrades Marathon appearing in the New York Flyers Blog: A Leisurely 56-Mile Run
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