Race day came too early, as it always does. My alarm at 4am was 30 minutes later than Disney, but that's not much of an improvement. How I'll ever get through Dopey in 2015, I have no idea. I crawled out of bed and settled into my pre-race routine: eat Clif bar slowly, sip on Powerade, and kill time until having to get dressed and out the door. The wind howling outside seemed even louder than the past few days, making it all that much more difficult to get ready. I finally stopped stalling and threw on my typical racing stuff: BodyGlide, compression shorts, KT tape, Sport Science tie-dye shirt, lucky socks, Kayanos, Qatar Airways pajamas to keep warm.
The shuttle from the hotel to the start got us there in plenty of time. Even with a few trips to the porta-potties, we still had plenty of time to sit down and relax for a little while. Before too long, though, the South African national anthem started playing and the runners in the half were sent on their way. 30 minutes later, it was our turn. I was amazed at how fast the runners are able to clear the start line. Two Oceans has a very strict 7-hour time limit from gun to gun, and I was afraid that even though I was in the third of six corrals, I'd lose precious minutes just getting across the line. I was on my way within 30-45 seconds, and Holly and Joel, three corrals behind me, only lost two minutes or so. Very efficient. Here's hoping Comrades next year is just as efficient because I think I'm going to need as much of their 12 hours as I can get.
The first few miles of the race are pretty boring. The course runs through town and doesn't look much different than any other big city marathon - shops, apartment buildings, and people from the neighborhoods out watching and cheering. The gale force wind certainly didn't help make this very enjoyable either. I did my best to hide behind larger runners or packs of runners to cut down the resistance as much as I could. The 6-hour buses, as they call their pace groups, were right around me, and I toyed with the idea of joining them and going for a sub-6 medal. Side note: the medals are different colors depending on your finishing time. I think sub-6 is bronze. Anyway, I kept them in sight, ran with them when the wind was strongest, and fell back when I thought I was going too fast.
After eight miles, the course finally became interesting. We left the suburbs and started to see some of the real beauty of the area. The Indian Ocean was to our left, a vast raging stretch of greenish-blue covered in white caps and sea spray. To our right, nothing but towering cliffs and mountains. We followed the road along the coast for five miles or so before heading inland and across to the Atlantic. As we climbed the small hill away from the water, a running centipede passed me. Five guys in the apparatus with three or four others running alongside providing water and fuel.
Side note about the water: the water and Powerade came in small sealed plastic sachets. No cups, no bottles, just little plastic bags. By the end of the race, I thought they were the greatest thing in the world, but it took me a long time to figure out how to bite into them just enough to get fluid out without it spilling all over me.
About sixteen miles in, we started the ascent of Chapman's Peak, Chappies to the locals. Having done next to no hill training in Doha leading up to the race, I knew I was never going to rocket up it, but I told myself I'd at least try to run the whole way. Thanks to my friend Peter, a running buddy in Doha from SA who has run Two Oceans many times before, I knew Chappies would be a long but manageable climb. I even remembered his warning not to get fooled by the false summit a few kilometers from the real one. I ran the whole thing, only stopping a few times to take pictures. This part of the course is where Two Oceans earns its claim as the "World's Most Beautiful Marathon."
The views were absolutely stunning - the Atlantic spreading out as far as the eye can see, the cliffs of the mountain on both sides interrupted only by the road we were running on, and the other peaks and bays of the coast off in the distance. The low fog and mist gave it an almost sinister look, as if the peak was trying to make sure we knew we had to earn that trip over the top.
As I reached the top of the pass, I felt relieved to be done with the first climb and was looking forward to gaining some strength back on the downhill section. I could not have been more wrong. Coming around the corner at the top, we ran smack into the cold gale that had been absent (behind us?) for the last hour. I have never struggled so much physically and mentally to run downhill in my life. I grew freezing cold as the wind sucked the sweat out of my shirt. Doubts and fears crept in as I seriously began to wonder if I was able to, or even wanted to, complete the last 14 miles. I had plenty of time - I'd only been running for 3.5 hours at this point - but I was struggling to fight both my brain and my growing nausea. As I told Mary in my email to her with my first thoughts after the race,
"My stomach can only handle so much gel before getting nauseous. Came close to puking more than a few times, though that might also have something to do with my mental state at the time. I was thisclose to packing it in, skipping Sugarloaf, and just calling it a year until the fall. I was really in a bad place, but managed to pull myself out and keep going. Guess that bodes well for running Comrades next year. :)"
At the bottom of Chappies is Hout Bay, a really pretty little town right on the beach with hundreds of people all along the course cheering us on. I fell in with a woman from Durban when she said hello to me going through one of the water stops. International runners have a different color bib from other entrants, and they (one on front and one on back) also have your name and number of Two Oceans races completed on them, so it wasn't hard for her to chat me up. That happened quite a lot, actually. Lots of very proud South Africans asking me all race long how I was enjoying the course, the city, and their country.
We ran and walked together until we reached the bottom of Constantia Neck, the second of the two peaks in the race. She was going to keep running and walking, and I, certainly, was not. I knew at this point that I'd be able to finish well under the time limit without running, and I also knew this was not nearly as nice a climb as Chappies. It's much shorter, steeper, and higher, all the more reason to join nearly everyone else for a power walk. As I crossed the summit, I almost let out a sigh of relief until I remembered Peter's caution about the three little switchbacks that come after the top. On the downhill sections, though, it was all about falling forward and letting gravity do the work, just like my friend David in Houston taught me.
The lack of crowds along the route back into Cape Town was a bit disappointing, but I can't fault anyone for staying home instead of going to sit by the side of the road for hours on a chilly and blustery day. I made sure to thank all the ones that were there. Not sure they heard me through the hats and scarves they all seemed to be wearing.
A few lefthand turns later, and the stadium came into view. The finish line is on the rugby pitch at the university, and last year was mostly mud due to all the rain. I started pumping my fists, high-fiving the crowd, and making the most of the last few minutes of the race.
I had set out to conquer one of the most famous and challenging ultras in the world, and I had. I felt great and drank in as much of the moment and atmosphere as I could.
After crossing the line and finding someone to take my picture, I went to find Holly and the rest of my friends who were there. International runners have a special tent for them that provides free food and beer. The burgers were cold and raw and the beer was crap, but that didn't seem to stop us from all celebrating together. I even got to see the saddest part of the race - the first people to reach the finish line after the time limit has been reached and the rope has been drawn across it. I can't imagine the heartbreak of struggling and fighting for 35 miles and seven hours only to come up 5 seconds short. The slumped, heaving shoulders and hanging heads told me enough.
Some more thoughts from my email to Mary written without much though, just gut reactions to the day's event:
Hills suck without training. Made it up the first peak ok but walked all of the second.
I need to have a plan in my head going in whether I'm going for time or fun. Kept waffling about trying to break 6 until it was too late.
I'm in much better shape than I thought I was. My default easy pace isn't 10 anymore. It's more like 930 or so. Had I realized that early on, I might've gone under 6.
Not having a running buddy with me definitely makes it harder. Having someone to talk to, keep pace with, etc. improves my racing.
KT tape works great to prevent nipple chafing but it's not sweat proof. The extra strips I packed came in very handy.
I am beyond thrilled to have done this race. It was an amazing experience.
Some more pictures from the route:
Posted with Blogsy
