Don't ask me what made me do it. I was fairly happy doing half
marathons. In fact I ran a really nice 2.02 just two weeks ago in Tokai and
enjoyed it. Then some friends at the running club who have entered comrades
2013 and the 2 Oceans 56km Ultra mentioned that the deadline for entries for
the Peninsula Marathon had been extended. I hummed and hahhed, phoned a
friend, vacillated, procrastinated ... And finally went online and paid my R100
odd for the "full". No problem, I thought, I'll just take it really easy
and if it gets really bad I'll bale out. The limit is 6 hours, which means you
only have to average 7kph. But of course no one wants to run a 6 hour marathon
- I thought I could maybe do a 5 or even a 4.5.
Herself was less than
impressed. She told me straight: I don't think you should do it, I don't want a
dead husband! But I knew I had to do it - for one thing I had paid my money and
I am one quarter Scottish by descent, for another .... I just had to. As the
big day drew nearer I had surprisingly few second thoughts. I didn't run at all
during the week before the race, just one short session of swimming to keep the
muscles stretched and toned. I tried to get an early night the evening before
the race, but that didn't work out - eventually retired after 10 and then
couldn't fall asleep - this despite having dozed off in front of the TV
earlier!
We were up at 4.
Herself had very kindly agreed to drop me at the start. This race is not a
circuit, but a (very) long straight line. Around 5 she dropped me at the Cape
Town stadium and I made my way slowly across to the start in Somerset Road,
Greenpoint. It was still dark, but warm and windless, and there was quite a
buzz around the place. It was a largish field, but not hectically large, like
the 2 Oceans. I had decided not to use the Endomondo GPS tracker on my phone,
because I wanted to be able to phone herself if I needed to and I was worried
about battery time. So the mobile went into the arm band, and I clipped the
smallest iPod onto my vest and wired up. Chest strap on, heart rate monitor
working, "body glide" smeared generously onto nipples and inner
thighs (way too much detail here, I suspect), and we were set to go.
We started promptly
at 5.15. Not a lot of fanfare, just a ready-set-go affair, which I preferred.
We set off at a gentle trot towards downtown Cape Town. Right into
Buitengraght, left into Wale. We passed the incredibly ugly provincial
legislature building followed by the equally beautiful St George's cathedral.
Then into Adderley, past the slave lodge, the Groote Kerk and a host of other
well known Cape Town landmarks, all the way down to the fountains and the
traffic circle, then back up Adderley all the way to Darling, left into Darling
and out of town past the lovely City Hall. Left again down past the Good Hope
centre - another example of a really ugly building if ever i saw one, but it didn’t
spoil anything. It really was a very nice tour!
We left town on the
M4. At that point it is called Victoria Street, I think, but it becomes Main
Road around Observatory and remains so for the rest of the run. Under the
Eastern Boulevard and then out through still sleeping Woodstock, Salt River and
Observatory, where we picked up the first hint of what was to come - south
Easter. At this point it was welcome, refreshing, invigorating. The 10km
mark is around Mowbray and I passed it in about 1h10m. That was according to
plan - I was thinking 1h10 for the first 10km, then 1h20, 1h30 and 1h40, which
would give a total of 5h40 for 40km, and then I could take the last 2km easy
and make it in under 6h. I waited for the 12km water and Coke table, grabbed a
sachet and a cup, downed them and then pulled the Blackberry out of its pouch
and sent herself an SMS: "12km, all fine". To which she replied,
"Great".
We carried on through
the quiet predawn streets of Rosebank, Rondebosch, Newlands, Claremont ... it
felt good. There was a bit of chatter from runners behind and in front of me,
but I was lost in my music and the legs were feeling good. I was enjoying
myself. I felt like I could run forever. After Claremont we hit a bit of uphill
but it was pretty mild, compared to say Chapman's peak or Constantia Neck.
There is a fairly steady climb past Harfield and Kenilworth until you get to
Wynberg and then it starts going down again. Somewhere around Wynberg the sun
rose. I remember noticing it through the gaps in the buildings. The drinks
tables were spaced every 3km and I made a point of having a Coke every time one
was on offer, as well as taking a couple of water sachets. One went down the
hatch and the other I squirted onto my balding patch, from where it ran down to
my sweat band.
Plumstead, Diep
River, Retreat, Steenberg ... I think the 20km mark was around Steenberg. I
slowed at 21km and sent herself another message. "20km and all well"
and got a similar response. Then on the road again. By this stage we were quite
strung out and just occupying one side of the road. Motorists passed us on the
other, their apparent attitudes varying between friendly and supportive and
frankly irritated and belligerent. The wind had started to get up again. Of
course the south easter is in your face all the way from Cape Town to
Simonstown. If it is mild, it is a blessing. If it is strong it is a curse. At
this stage it was still pretty mild.
Around Steenberg we
were joined by the half marathoners, who had started at Bergvliet. They had
fresh legs and fresh faces, chatting away. I expect it was fairly easy for
spectators to differentiate the two groups. I guess I could summarise the race
up to the 25km point as a really nice run - relaxed, not too strenuous, near
perfect conditions... the pace not blistering but reasonably respectable for
me, even for a half marathon.
The something happened.
I am not sure what. I can only say that I started to become increasingly aware
that my hips ached, my calves ached, my feet ached, my knees hurt, my shoulders
ached ... my whole body seemed to be saying "enough". I didn't run
out of puff - my breathing was fine, my pulse still steady at 140-150, which is
what it had been since the start. It was just the PAIN! I couldn't believe it.
Every step was an effort. OK, I thought, I'll try walk-run. So I walked the
hills and ran the downs. Didn't help much. Then I tried walking 10, running 10,
and various other combinations. Again, not much help - even the walking hurt.
By this stage we were past Lakeside, Muizenberg, and heading to St James, the
30km table. I had some Coke and water and sent herself a final SMS. "30km,
getting really tired and sore. Fish Hoek in about 30min". This despite the
fact that it is only about 4km from St James to Fish Hoek. She said she would
meet me at Barracuda's.
The wind had
stiffened to a fresh south easter. The views across the bay were stunning but I
must confess I did not appreciate them fully. All I could concentrate on was my
discomfort. I ran-walked into Fish Hoek, along Beach Road. I spotted herself
and Princess Secondborn outside the restaurant. I could have cried and almost
did. I slumped down on the pavement and my foot muscles immediately went into
spasm causing me to let out a squeal which prompted herself to declare that I
should stop immediately and retire. But I still had 2h15m before cutoff and
only 8km to go - I could walk the rest if needed and still get my medal,
although I probably wouldn't make 5h.
Not to prolong the
agony of this narrative, that is exactly what I did - I walked the rest. Every
now and then I tried running, but it was just too sore. Many around me were
walking too. It didn't feel too bad. The 5h "bus" passed me around
Glen Cairn. I felt an urge to join them but when I tried to run I felt a cramp
starting and had to stop and sit on the stone wall for a while, then resumed
walking. At Simonstown Station herself and the princess drove past in our
little red Peugeot. They were waiting at Jubilee Square when I came past and
walked with me to the end. The Princess fed me chocolate, but I was feeling a
little nauseous and couldn't really stomach it.
After what seemed an
eternity we turned down into the Navy sports grounds and the final few hundred
metres. I must say it felt good to take the "marathon" lane at the
finish. 5h25m. Underwhelming. Well, at least it was under 6h. I got my medal
and Coke and then stumbled around the ground looking for some shade in which to
lie down - I just needed to get my weight off my hips, I thought. It was pretty
hot by then and I needed to cool off as well. The forecast had been for
38 Celsius, and although it didn't feel that warm in Simonstown, it was
getting pretty steamy.
I finally found a
shady spot behind a tent. A kind lady offered me a seat but I really
needed to lie down. The grass was wet from where they must have tossed out some
water, I think, but it felt like heaven. There I lay on my back for about 10
minutes, I guess. Then I got up - slowly - and stumbled in the direction of
Main Road where I was to meet herself with the car. The princess found me and
led me like a blind man up the road. When we got to Main Road there was no sign
of herself. I lay down flat on the pavement in the shade, much to the princess's
embarrassment. Curious runners stopped and asked her “Is he OK?" and one
"Is he conscious?". “He should turn round so that his head is lower
than his feet”. One said "I did a 2.13! - half that is" - 2.13 was
round about the winning time for the marathon. I smiled weakly.
Herself duly arrived,
I somehow managed to lever my body into the 107 and we drove slowly home.
"You were right", I told her, as I tried in vain to get comfortable,
"42 is too far for me - I should stick to 21km". But deep inside I
knew that it is only a matter of time - the bug had bitten. There must be a way
to do it. Better preparation. Expert advice. Can't be that difficult. I think
it is a bit like what I imagine (and have observed) it is like to have a baby.
You can go through living hell during the pregnancy and delivery, but 6 weeks
later it is a rosy blur which seems almost enjoyable in retrospect, and 2 or 3 years
later there you are - pregnant again! I think that is the way it is with most
long distance runners. As Schwarzenegger said, "I'll be
back".
