Peninsula Marathon 2013

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".