Comrades #1 - Uprun 2024

Dare I write my name on that page?
Dare I write my name in that history?
Yes, I dare.

If you know, you know, If not, stick around here for a full explanation on the above. As I’ve said before, my early years had 31st May as a red letter day. I suppose with the sporting boycott in full swing, this was our own Olympic final. Currie Cup final and B&H night cricket was the only thing that came close. Take the freestate bits out and this story might have well been mine.
So while I’m slightly surprised it has taken me this long to actually run Comrades, only once there did I realise how many firsts I would tick off. I had heard, watched and thought about the VIBE on the startline. It is 5am and the Comrades start is the centre of the universe. Chariots of Fire and shosholoza will never ever be the same again.

Even the expo was thrilling, driving the route and putting all these placenames into a visual reference was overwhelming. Seeing the endless stream of spectators firsthand from the field trumps anything I’ve experienced in my 26 Argus cycle tours. I’ve watched a lot of people finish this race over the years, now I did it and got the tiniest but most memorable medal in my collection. The final cut-off was something I wouldn’t have missed for the world – the most basic of human emotions are stripped away and infront of all, a mixture of massive disappointment and pain. It makes me cry just thinking of it. Tell you what they don’t show on TV – the traffic getting out of PMB!

I entered this race on the day it opened in October 2023, joined a running club in January and got training in earnest. About 6 weeks to raceday my wife Victoria confirmed her massive desire to join me for the trip and that is the junction that changed how it would unfold. I could have done it all alone, but the experience would have been totally different. I’m the first person in my family to do the Comrades, but let’s compare that score to the one I married into. Between her mom, grandfather, two aunts, three uncles, four cousins, and some respective spouses the count of Comrades medals is north of 50.

That’s a tough act to follow, but I got treated like the international sponsored athlete that I am most definitely not. Driving the course with a 24 time finisher, sleep over and an early lift to the start from a multiple Bill Rowan – you can’t buy that experience. It was such an occasion that Victoria is now planning to be the second Burnett to do this damn thing next year.

The start is just incredible, you have to see it to believe it. Go find a race stream on youtube and watch it from 8 minutes before the gun. No one does it like this, and I suppose it is even more of a national coming together directly after our most fractious democratic election. The posters were still up and there were murmurs of violence in KZN, but we were all united with a common goal - a coalition to the finish line at Scottsville race course.

Somehow in the chaos I looked around and found Craig about 10 meters behind me. We had both coincidentally chosen to do our first race Comrades this year, and had navigated the novice journey together mainly on whatsapp. I had run the first half of my qualifying Weskus marathon with him, but our race strategies were different for Comrades. We would either meet at the finish, or along the way if my faster start backfired. We had a lovely chat, wished each other good luck, heard the gun go and then got shuffling forward after 5 minutes when we could finally move.

It's not easy to tell the difference between a 2000 and 20000 crowd at 6am if you’re in it and don’t have a bird’s eye view. After a few km, the route rounds onto the highway with a slight rise and straightens to show half a kilometer of four lanes packed with bobbing heads. It’s a sight to take your breath away. So many people who have done a marathon, paid their entry fee, got themselves there and put their feet on the line to go all the way to PMB – took my breath away.

It had been drilled into me to take it easy in the first half, Bruce famously says “start like a coward, finish like a hero”. While 2:20 is maybe the slowest half marathon I’ve ever done, it did have 350m of climbing and the first of the big five, Cowies Hill. My legs were already feeling that it was going to be a long day at the office.

Driving the route on the Friday was incredible knowledge to gain, but also just a blur compared to actually doing it on foot. I had a two stop strategy with seeing Victoria, once at Gillett’s crossing (29.3km) and second time at Inchanga (48.5km). It was a nerve wracking day for her, she had two packets of extra gels/carb drink, spare shoes and socks, even my sunglasses. She had a rental car with ropey navigation phone interface, KZN drivers, roadworks, N3 traffic, parking chaos often miles from the route and a weight of expectation that she had to be there to see me. Most people don’t have a private second, it’s a real luxury but also a way to share the race and entire experience together. She learnt a helluva lot on the day, and it was a real relief to see her at Spot A. It would have been manageable taking in the race refreshment stops (lots of bananas and salted oranges) but I had been worried that she would freak out that she hadn’t been able to see me, I had no way to get her a message that she shouldn’t worry. Also, that fancy ass and expensive Maurten nutrition did not want to fly back to Cape Town either.

I had tried to have a pacing strategy for the day. There are as many theories as experts out there on what to do. I done about 80% of the sub10hr training plan requirements, and hadn’t actually done the sub4hr marathon that is the yardstick (time x2.5) for your Comrades finish. I had now caught up to a 10hr bus and chose to run with it up Fields hill, the 2nd of the big five. A pacing bus is a uniquely South African thing. An experienced runner gets assigned a time to run and it’s their loose responsibility to drag whoever follows them to the line in just under the target time. They’re identified by a big flag, will be crowded by followers and often come with chants, singing and in this case, a tambourine. Sometimes they take up the entire road and can become a bit of a hazard for slower/faster runners and even spectators!

There was a second 10hr bus further up the hill, and I had now got between these two. My plans were constantly changing! In any running race, people will talk about a “split”. This is your time at the halfway point. Normally you tire and your second half is slower than the first, this is a “positive split”. Keeping gas in the tank after a conservative start is a ‘negative split”. This is the suggested option by many, as the second half is considerably easier and you want to be able to take advantage of the flatter roads to record fast pacing. This was going to be my longest run past 56km, so any sort of plan was always an experiment. Mainly due to simplicity I bargained on maintaining 7min/km average for the first half and taking it from there.

Now onto Botha’s Hill (the third of the Big five), I sidled up to a green number with the “70” patch on his shirt. It was easy to recognize this Germiston Callies athlete, instead of an actual number he just had “Alan” to confirm my suspicions. That is how I got to have a brief conversation with a three time winner and the guy who mostly pushed Bruce to his limits in the eighties. We even exchanged a few words about Vic’s uncle Tim who finished 2 places behind him in the 1980 race. He wasn’t that animated, but when you have his palmares you can act anyway you want – it was a real goosebump moment for me.

I figured it was time to show the inclines a bit more respect. I decided to walk the second 2/3 of the hill, but at a brisk pace. In adventure racing we go for days on end on our feet and I’ve done plenty of fast walking over the years now. It seemed more efficient than a slowrun/slow walk that many around me were doing and I wasn’t even losing much distance. There are quirks to Comrades that make it the unique experience it is. There’s a retaining wall here that Comrades finishers can buy a plaque to (technically that includes me too now, but I think it’s a bit presumptuous to do it with only one under the belt). It goes on forever, and each of those numbers has it’s own story(ies) to tell. Then there’s Arthurs seat, he got a lantana flower from me (google it!).

Meet-up spot B came a few kms after the halfway point, another cut-off safely navigated. In the end I sneaked in just under 5hours which gave me about 6:50min/km taking the time to cross the startline into account. This meant an “even split” to get in under 10hours. I had two main plans now cooking in my head, either keep it conservative and have a good shot at a comfortable enough 10:15-10:30 finish. Plan B was to push for the sub10 (Robert Mtshali medal), and if the wheels fall off then walk/hobble/crawl to the end no matter what the time is. I rolled the dice for the second plan, intent on keeping a consistent pace and doing the maths every few km markers to see where I was.
Meeting up with Vic at Inchanga (fourth of the big five) was wild, as the crowds here at come from far and wide and every runner now had a tough marathon in their legs. She was there with cousins, and followed me up the road for a bit as we swapped goods and stories. She said I was looking good, I replied that looks can be deceiving. The Comrades app is really effective, taking the runner’s timing points and then translating it to an expected position updated constantly on the map – spectators then get a fairly accurate 5 minute window to spot their runner coming past. There was a bonus 3rd meetup in Camperdown at about the 60km mark that was never going to happenm. In the end I ran the final 38km faster than she could get back to the car, navigate through the N3 chaos (official apologies from CMA for this), find parking and get to the racecourse. I’d say it was easier to be a runner, but the final stretch was no picnic for me, but it sure was quicker.

With about 25km to go, I was still well under the pace to make sub 10, but I knew that my legs would not have it. I abandoned that goal and shifted to just getting to the finish and anytime would do. I made the deal with myself that if I could keep going at a consistent speed on the flats and downs then I would be allowed to walk every uphill to the finish. This is how I got excited to see the bottom of Little Polly’s (not little) and Polly Shortts (final and most infamous big five – due to the location at ~80kms) itself – running down to them hurt enough already.

Our route recon ended soon after Polly’s, what was the point of driving into PMB Friday afternoon traffic? An old salt told me that the final few kms into the finish would be a gentle downhill breeze. Seeing the banner at Polly’s come past was the first time I knew I was actually going to finish this thing, and choked up a little. The rest was floating on clouds, with plenty of crowds lining the street the whole way. The kilometer markers at Comrades are descending, and it seems a little odd in Westville when it goes from 78 to 77 to go. The final few are great, especially that 1km board – I hope it ends up in someone’s man cave or pub. It felt a brisk run to the end (a 31minute parkrun never felt so fast), and all of a sudden the finish line was there. No twist in a stadium here, just enter the racecourse and the finish is in front of you. Final time was 10:07 something, which means a bronze medal - 7 minutes is a very long time so I'll take it.

I do feel a little silly trumpeting myself finishing this race. There were twenty thousand other people there, and over 300 000 have finished it over the years, it’s a big church! This is a huge contrast to the 900km adventure race I did last year that hardly anyone had ever heard of, but I’m happy that I’ve done both for their own reasons. Firstly I need to apologise for any comments made to people struggling on national TV to finish this event, everyone who takes this on and gets to the end is an absolute hero in my mind. Secondly (and this will be obvious to the natal crowd who have the event baked into their folklore) I really think anyone who considers themselves an athlete should put this one in the cross-hairs and take a shot at it. It’s just an experience in itself, there is nothing in the world that comes close to this – and it’s in our backyard. Now my name is just one more in that book.