Comrades Pictures

Some pictures from during the race

Coming down into the halfway point

Just passing the halfway cutoff point

Running the start of the hill

Not running the top of the hill

Coming into the stadium

Just a few steps to go

Done!

Comrades 2015 Race Report

Ange, one of my coaches, asked me to write a race report again this year. This one won't be as involved or as long as last year's, but I'll provide as much detail and color commentary as I can. First, before we get to race day, let's have a look at what was in store for us.

That's pretty much a marathon straight uphill followed by a marathon on seriously rolling hills followed by a few kilometers of down and up to the finish. And of course, the cartoon profile provided by Comrades doesn't really show you how steep and nasty all those climbs really are. Here's the chart from my Garmin for comparison. 

But that's getting ahead of ourselves. Let's turn back time to the day after last year's race. There we were, hanging out at Joe Cool's in Durban, having a few beers (okay, more than a few) to celebrate having conquered Comrades. Everything was all fun and games until our South African friends heard us expressing our relief at being able to cross the race off the bucket list. "Not so fast," they said. "You haven't really done Comrades until you've done it back to back in both directions. It really is a different race going down vs up." And with that, the seed was planted. By the time registration opened a few months later, there was no real question about if we were going to run again or not. Erin was certainly going to be back so she could get revenge on the course after finishing but not making the cutoff in 2014. Holly and I knew that since she was going, we were too, and Holly even managed to talk Desiree, one of her friends in Houston, into coming along as well. I was the last one to sign up, I think, mostly because I had some reservations about being able to train properly while living in Erbil. I hate treadmills in the base case and was not at all looking forward to having to do all my training indoors.

Fast forward a few months, and training wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, mostly because I got to spend time in Dubai instead of Erbil. I did have a few months of hours-long runs on a treadmill on both weekend days, though, and that certainly wasn't any fun. I only made it through by watching episodes of Game of Thrones. I'd watch one, stop to change my shirt and refuel, watch another, etc., etc. Thankfully, I managed to schedule a business trip to Houston at the end of April that allowed me to get my last three weekends of back-to-back long runs done outside and with other people. The peak weekend of 24 and 16 would've been really tough to do in the gym at the Divan.

About three weeks before the race, the race organizers (the Comrades Marathon Association) announced that due to road construction in Pinetown, the course would be 877 meters longer than the usual up-run course. Personally, I don't see much difference in running 86.9 km and 87.7 km, but I was clearly in the minority. The online moaning and wailing and gnashing of teeth was astounding. People were panicking about not being able to pace properly, how the extra distance would impact their strategy, and even going to far as to ask the CMA to extend the time limit for the race beyond 12 hours. All that fussing over an extra 8 seconds per mile. That's nothing more than a few minutes more running and less walking over the course of a 12-hour day. Nothing for us mere mortals to worry about, though it did cost the female winner a few hundred thousand dollars. She missed the course record by three minutes. 

As race day approached, I was much more scared and nervous than I was last year. I knew what was coming (see those lovely course maps above) and also knew I wasn't as well prepared as last year. I had done all my workouts, but my overall mileage was down and I didn't have Heather's yoga classes to build my core and leg strength, two things absolutely critical for running uphill. Holly hadn't trained too well either thanks to a stress fracture in her foot that kept her from running most of the spring, though she got plenty of swimming and biking in to make up for it. Sitting on the plane from Dubai to Durban, I had some doubts as I whether I'd make it the whole way or not. I was most worried about getting to the top of Field's Hill and then to the halfway point. Three out of the five big and named hills are in the first half of the race, and I was afraid they'd suck so much energy out of me that I wouldn't have anything left for the rest. Thankfully, copious amounts of champagne banished those thoughts to another day.

Friday morning, we all met up for our traditional 5k run along the water in Durban followed by breakfast at Circus Circus. While taking pictures after we ate, we were approached by a team from the local paper asking us if we were running on Sunday and if they could ask us a few questions and take some pictures. The next day, we woke up to our smiling faces on the front page of the paper!

After breakfast, the expo beckoned. We grabbed our packets, did some shopping, found our names on the wall of entrants, and hung out for a little while in the International area. I felt bad for the poor security volunteers who had to keep kicking one of the local running clubs out of the area. They certainly knew better but kept coming back in over and over again. I'm sure all they wanted was a place to sit down and to have some coffee, coke, or water. Lots of the people running Comrades can barely afford the entry fee and a place to stay the nights before the race, so we left most of the stuff from our goodie bags on the table for them. They need the granola bars and energy drink powders and other stuff much more than we do.

Hanging out with Holly, Erin, and Desiree at the apartment after the expo made me feel much better about the race. None of us felt completely confident, but as a group, we were all certain we'd get to the starting line and find a way to finish. Nerves and anxiety were giving way to the normal pre-race excitement and anticipation. We talked about our plan for the hills (run/walk at 3 minute/1 minute intervals), our fueling (bring on the salted potatoes!), and our bio breaks (when one stops, we all stop). There wasn't much talk about the weather because we knew it was going to be warm and sunny. We didn't do much on Saturday either - pancake breakfast at Circus Circus (along with dozens of other runners), lounging around the apartment, and one last dinner of pizza and pasta before heading to our room in Durban for the night. Staying in Durban the night before the race was one of Holly's more brilliant decisions this year. Being able to sleep in a few extra minutes and simply walk to the start sure beats having to drive in and deal with traffic.

I woke up Sunday morning not feeling very rested. Desiree says I slept pretty well, but it sure didn't seem that way to me. After a Clif bar for a snack, some Powerade to wash it down, and half a dozen trips to the bathroom, it was time to get moving. I put on my racing outfit, threw a Qatar Airways PJ top over my head to keep warm on the walk to the start, grabbed my fuel belt and drop bag, and away we went. Ten minutes later, we arrived at bag drop just outside the corrals. Holly and I had the purple numbers signifying that we were international runners (foreign runners get their own tent and bag check area at the finish), but somehow Kim, Erin, and Desiree never got them at the expo. The guys at the truck handed them yellow numbers, and no matter how much he claimed otherwise, we knew their bags were going to end up in the general tent and not the international one. Not much we could do about it at that point, so we handed over the bags and entered our corral.

Kim and I opted for the first visit to the porta-potty while the others stayed behind and watched our stuff. When we got back, the other three left while we kept an eye on everything and kept people from crowding into our spot. With a strict 12-hour gun-to-gun cutoff time, there's a strong desire to get as close to the front of your corral as possible, and people will squeeze into whatever space is available. Somehow through the noise of the crowd, I heard Holly yelling for me from outside the fence. Kim and I grabbed all of our belts and belongings and ran over to see what the problem was. "They won't let us in the gate! Security won't let us in!" Holly was a little panicked, as were the rest of us, and it didn't help that right at the moment, they dropped the ropes between the corrals and thousands of people surged forward like at a general admission rock concert. Fortunately, she was able to pry apart two sections of the fence, and they all squeezed in next to us. Some calming breaths later, we shuffled forward with the crowd and began to look forward to the pomp and circumstance of the start. Even after experiencing it last year, the singing of the national anthem and Shosholoza, the playing of Chariots of Fire, and the recording of the cock crows still gave me goosebumps. By far the best atmosphere at the start of any race I've ever done. You can see for yourself in this video starting around the 30:00 mark.

Bang! And we were off. Okay, not exactly off because we still had to make our way to the line, but our watches were running. Four minutes later, we were running! Another four minutes later, we were not running, as the 12,000 people in front of us ground to a halt. The roads in Durban are much wider than those in PMB, but we sure seemed to do a lot more stopping and starting this year. In order to keep an eye on each other, we quickly fell into a system where you'd raise your hand over your head if you wanted to find out where everyone else was. Empty hands while dodging around people or spreading out on the hills, full hands with water sachets to pass back and forth - this worked really well all day. 

The first few miles were really crowded. The hills were just steep enough to keep people from running too fast but not steep enough yet to separate the runners from the run/walkers from the walkers. We held ourselves in check (not much choice, really) and ran along mostly in silence. We'd laugh at something here and there, but most of what we said was "are we all together?" and "do we have everyone?" I felt okay, not a really good sign this early in such a long race. By the time we passed over the top of Cowie's Hill, the first of the big five, I could already tell that the hills were going to wear me out. Thankfully, one of us needed a nature break heading through Pinetown shortly thereafter and I was able to catch my breath for a few minutes.

After turning the corner to begin the long climb up Field's Hill, Desiree and Kim steadily moved ahead of us. They were off to a great start so we wished them well and sent them on their way. Their training had obviously been better than ours, and it wouldn't be fair to hold them back. Erin, Holly, and I kept on plugging away and eventually reached the top. This was one of the big milestones I had in my mind since it's the longest climb in the race, but the mental boost I expected never materialized. Just the opposite happened. I began to lose confidence and get depressed thinking about how much farther we had to go and how much energy I'd already felt drain away. I was exhausted and still had 40 miles to go. Seeing Erin and Holly out in front of me didn't help any either. Not that I wanted to beat them. I'm as competitive as they come, but I do have my limits. No, this was more of a realization that I was struggling and they weren't, and that just made me feel worse. A few more miles of this seemed to take forever. I knew I had to do something or else I wasn't going to make it to the end. I grabbed Holly and told her that she absolutely had to stay with me, right on my shoulder, until I came out of my funk. She agreed without hesitation and reminded me that we were in this together no matter what. I'd like to say that hearing this from my running spouse was all it took to snap me back to normal, but that'd be a lie. Another hour or so passed before I was happy and cheerful once again.

The three of us soldiered on up Botha's Hill (one of the steepest climbs of the day) and down into the halfway point at Drummond. We managed to pick up our pace pretty well on the first real downhill stretch of the race thus far. Once again, it was a huge success that we crossed halfway (5:29) before the winner finished the race (5:38).  Our excitement and enjoyment of the easy running was short-lived, though. Inchanga starts not even half a mile later and is a bitch of a climb (2 miles at 6%) even when you don't already have a marathon on your legs. By this point, we'd given up on our strict run/walk intervals and had moved to "run when we can and walk when we must," as Holly put it. For Inchanga, that meant mostly walking with some slow running (me) and power walking (Holly). Finally, with 30 miles behind us, we reached the top, and I knew I was going to finish. I'd told myself before we started that if we could get to the top of Inchanga in under 6:30, we'd have 5:30 to make it through the last 25 miles with nearly all of the climbing behind us. We crested in 5:56.

We cruised down the back and made our way to Harrison Flats. Don't let the name fool you. Harrison Flats is not flat. It's rolling hills that felt as much uphill this year as they did last year. About this point in the race, we got passed by a huge 11:30 bus (they call the pace groups over here "buses") and fell in behind them for a little while. They had a nice routine of running a few minutes followed by a short walk break, but they were going way too fast for their expected finish time. We fell back and let them go, as did a lot of other people around us. Either our math was wrong (after last year's debacle that wasn't entirely out of the question) or theirs was, and it wasn't worth the risk to find out. [side note: they were way off and finished in 11:12. I'm sure a lot of people blew up and had trouble even coming in under 12 because of that.]

Running along towards Cato Ridge, Erin began drifting back slightly and then catching up to us as we slowed down to wait for her. Like last year, she was having a hard time getting a full deep breath. Holly and I started to have the conversation that no one running with their friends likes to have - how long do we stay back with Erin before leaving her and running our own race? Knowing how she didn't make the cutoff time last year and not wanting to see her miss out again made our decision all that more difficult, but in the end, we knew we had to move on. To her credit, Erin knew what we were thinking and asked us if we wanted to keep going before we could bring it up. I gave her a huge hug, cried a little, and told her we'd see her at the finish. 

Holly and I settled into an easy pace as the miles ticked by. By the time we hit the Lion Park timing mat, we knew we weren't going to be sub-11 but were certainly going to be sub-12. We crossed in 9:03, leaving us just under three hours to travel the last 11 miles. Not wanting to cut it quite that close, we decided to try to keep ourselves under 14 min/mile so we had plenty of time to spare if the wheels completely fell off down the road. No problems with math this year.

About half an hour later, approaching the chicken farms, we ran into James's friend Carl. He was struggling a bit running by himself and was more than happy to join us for the last bit to PMB. With the pressure of chasing sub-11 long gone, we ran and walked and talked and enjoyed ourselves as best we could. Finally, we hit Little Polly's. It's not one of the big five named hills, but rather gets its name from the fact that people often mistake it for the real Polly Shortts. Polly's is steeper, longer, and closer to the end, making Little Polly's just a teaser for what's left to come. There were some terrific spectators along this stretch. Not that the ones we saw during the previous 50 miles weren't good too, but one group here really was wonderful. I stopped to ask them if they had any sunblock I could use, and instead of having me stand there and wait while they found it, they told me to keep going and they'd bring it to me. "You need to keep moving. No wasting time!" they said. Sure enough, about 20 seconds later, one of the women came running up to me with a bottle and sprayed some in my hands and on my face. Now that's the spirit of Comrades that people always talk about.

At last it was time to tackle Polly's. It's not the biggest hill in the race, but it sure is the most difficult. Climbing 400 feet in barely more than a mile when you've already run 50 miles is just awful. Holly was the only one of the three of us to be thankful to be going uphill. She developed a huge blister on her toe coming down Little Polly's and going up took the pressure off of it for a little while. Coming down the other side wasn't too enjoyable for her, requiring her to tread gently and take it easy. We had plenty of time to spare, so going slowly wasn't a concern. We had to, really, since the last five miles have a lot more up and down in them than we thought. At the top of one little bump, we could see big banks of lights up ahead and started looking forward to seeing the stadium. How wrong we were. Those lights were for the rugby field about two miles out of town. 

Finally, we made the last big right turn into Pietermaritzburg and knew we were almost there. A quick left brought us right to the stadium with cheering fans lining the road the whole way. This was a much more enjoyable finishing stretch than coming into Durban on the highway and running through the commercial center. That was pretty empty, but the people in PMB turned out in force. We stopped walking and started running as soon as we approached the stadium. I have a personal rule to always run the last mile of a race, or in the case of this Comrades, the last half mile. Coming through the tunnel and onto the grass wasn't as emotional a moment for me as it was last year. I was just happy to have beaten the damn course and made it to the end. It was Holly's turn to tear up a bit as she waved to her parents and we made the final turn to the line. Fists pumping and arms raised in celebration, we crossed the line in 11:21. You can see the video here.  

We hobbled over to the international tent, got our bags, and collapsed on the ground. I was absolutely freezing, shaking so hard I threw up a few times. Lovely, I know. I'm really glad Holly's parents were there to help us with food and drinks because I wasn't going anywhere for a while.

I stopped feeling sick and cold once I saw Erin come "walking" up. She made it! One of her friends from Doha grabbed her along the way and wouldn't let her not finish. She was as happy as I've ever seen someone at the end of a race, tears of joy running down her face. She also had really bad leg cramps and had to be taken to the medical tent, but let's focus on the positive, shall we? 

Getting the medal for finishing was great, of course, but getting that extra medal for going back to back is what made it all worthwhile. Now I've done it both ways and never have to do it again. I'll certainly never do it again while I'm living in Erbil. There's no way to get the proper training in when  I'm not allowed outside. 

A few quick words on fueling and hydration because I know Mary and Ange want to hear about it. I used much the same approach as last year - fuel every hour, salt tab every hour, and water as often as I felt I needed it. I started out with gels and bloks for the first few hours until salted potatoes started being handed out by the race or by the spectators. I only had to take one or two more gels the rest of the way because there were enough potato stops to get me through. I drank a lot of water this year, much more than last year. Even drinking two or three sachets at each water stop, I could feel myself getting dehydrated around mile 25 and was thankful to get back to a better level a few hours later. It's never good to feel goosebumps on your legs when you're running in warm sunny weather. I didn't have any of the Energade sports drink available at the aid stations. To me, the stuff tastes foul, so I got my electrolytes from the salt tabs. I also drank a lot of Coke. Holly made me start drinking it when I was feeling nauseous and didn't want to eat anything. It might be horrible for you, but it sure is great ultra fuel, even if it wasn't flat like I've had in the past.

Brave New World

After years of poking, prodding, and not-so-subtle pressure from my wife, my coach, and my running spouse, I finally dipped a toe into the world of triathlon. I have no one to really blame for this except me. I set out to buy a bike and a trainer to bring with me to Erbil so I'd have a way to workout for Comrades that didn't involve sessions of 4+ hours on a treadmill. I figured sitting on a bike and watching a movie for a few hours would be more tolerable. While we were home in Florida over the holidays, I picked up this beauty, got a professional fit from one of the top fitters in the country, and left the store with all the gear and crap I'll need to ride it. Side note: Adam, the guy who did the fit, was eternally patient with me. He knew I was a new biker and took his time to help me get my cleats into the pedals (apparently Speedplay are great once you're using them; they're not so good for novices like me to learn to clip in and out of), explain all of the measurements he was taking, and talk me through the whole process. As a former engineer, I was fascinated by watching all the sensors hooked up to me show their data as a little cartoon stick figure pedaling away on the screen.

It took less time than the car ride home for Heather to inform me that after spending thousands of dollars on a bike and gear, I had no choice but to start training for a tri. Within an hour of posting a picture of the bike on Facebook, Mary emailed to tell me she was adding swim and bike workouts into my schedule as soon as I returned to Dubai. I landed in Dubai on 1/19, set the trainer up a few days later, and learned very quickly during my first workout that indoor riding is hot and sweaty. I was far more drenched after an hour than I am running outdoors for the same period at this time of year.

A week later, I found out about a beginner's triathlon training camp that some volunteer coaches from Tri Dubai were offering nearby. Needless to say, I signed up immediately. We spent the weekend at a really eclectic and oddly entertaining resort in Ras Al Khaimah, a few hours north of Dubai. This is the email I sent Mary about what the experience was like.

1. Wet suits are awesome! They keep my legs up.  

2. My stroke is stuck in high school. Not enough glide, hands cross in front, big S curve during my pull, hands enter angled with thumb into water first, all of which combine to make my hips wiggle. And we haven't even watched the video yet. It's clear to the coach that I was trained for racing and not for longer distance endurance swimming. She swims an Ironman in an hour or so, so I'm assuming she knows what she's talking about. :)  

3. Tri bikes are very twitchy and squirrelly. You probably knew that, but it was quite a surprise to me. It was all I could do to keep my balance when moving my hands from the aero bars to the handle bars. Getting my bottle out of the cage was an adventure to say the least. And let's not mention how I kept weaving all over the road every time I turned my head one way or the other.  

4. Speedplay cleats are great when I'm clipped in. They're a complete pain in the ass to get clipped in. I spent the first 3-400 meters of each lap during our transition training just trying to get them in and hear that lovely "click." Speaking of clipping in, I fell over with one foot in and one foot out before we even started our first ride of the weekend. In the parking lot. In front of the whole training group. Sigh.  

It really was a fun and enjoyable weekend. Lots of great swimming and biking drills, coaches who knew a ton about their best discipline, and a helpful and friendly bunch of people there with me.

Thanks to all the support and advice I received from everyone, I decided to go whole hog and enter a sprint tri the following weekend. It helped knowing that I'd be riding up to the race with one of my fellow campers who could show me how to get everything set up in transition. I knew the swim would be fine and the run wouldn't be a problem, but I was just a bit nervous about getting on the bike in a race given my dismal performance with clipping in at the camp. Turns out a generous application of dry lube on the cleats, springs, and pedals can help even a rookie like me get clipped in within a 50-100 feet. Recycling my email to Mary once again, here's how the race went:

I had a great time! Best part was kicking ass and passing people on the run. :)  

Swim - not bad for my first one. Total chaos in the water because they had to swim both the sprint & Olympic on the same short course when the fog rolled in. I never got kicked but gave & got a few elbows along the way. Was breathing very hard by the end. Definitely took some serious effort to get my heart rate down coming out of the water. 

Trying to get my cap off while unzipping the suit. Not smooth.

T1 - slow. Not smooth in running while peeling off my suit. Shoes & socks on pretty fast. Helmet strap came out of the buckle so I had to stop & rethread it before starting my ride. Ate some bloks while leaving to avoid having to try it on the bike.

Bike - clipped in fast for me. Yay lots of dry lube. Managed to keep a decent pace for all three laps. Had to learn to downshift coming into the uturn so as not to struggle coming out. Only made that mistake once. Passed some people and happy about that. Learned that a tri bike & aero bars are really much faster than a road bike when it's windy.

T2 - unclipped okay. Hard to run in bike shoes. Fast shoe change and out on the run. 

Run - Legs just wanted to turn over quickly coming off the bike so I let them. Started around 7:30 and settled in at 8. Total focus on sub-25 time. Made it by 5 seconds. :) Legs felt really strange. Not like jello, more like they were tired but still going fast. Does that make sense? It was like "jeez, I'm barely going" with "wow, how can I be this fast"

Had a blast overall. Tons of work but really fun.

Stuck in Dubai

Okay, so we're not exactly stuck as bad as this guy, or this guy, and yes, it's not exactly a bad place to be stuck, but we're still stuck. We're living in The Address hotel at the Dubai Marina for at least another month. It's a pretty nice hotel with good food and free drinks in the lounge every night, but it's still a hotel. We're dying for a real fridge, a comfortable couch, and to see the rest of our belongings. Most of mine are either in Erbil already or on a shrink-wrapped pallet in the Allied warehouse in Doha waiting to be sent to Erbil. Heather's are in a container on the Maersk Detroit, currently west of the Azores making its way across the Atlantic to the US. We've hit the Dubai Mall a few times to buy clothes for work and for working out, though I'm fully prepared for another dive trip should the opportunity arise.

The worst part, really, is not knowing when we'll be moving somewhere else. We're heading back to the US for a vacation and business trip at the end of the month, but everything after that is still up in the air. The company has given no indication as to when they'll make a decision about sending people back to Erbil, sending us to Houston, or keeping us here. All depends on how calm the situation around Erbil remains and the continued effectiveness of the ongoing US air strikes. In the meantime, we'll be here in Dubai, working out of a hotel conference room. Bleh.

On a totally unrelated topic, does anyone reading this know anything about buying watches online? I've got a few I'm interested in from Jaeger-LeCoultre. They're much cheaper online, but I'm a little leery of the after-sale service and warranty work should anything go wrong, as compared to buying from a retail store you can walk into and deal with directly. Anyone have any experience or helpful advice?

Comrades - Training, Pacing, and Fueling

Training
My training plan was developed by my friend and coach Mary Holt-Wilson of TriMoxie. She blended the plan from Hal Higdon that I used when I ran the Rocky Raccoon 50-mile trail run in 2006 with the official one from the Comrades web site, and added her own ideas to create one that suited me and my schedule. The primary focus was using back-to-back long runs on the weekend to build endurance and get me used too running on tired legs. Mileage built from 40 miles a week for most of January, February and March to 50-55 miles a week in April and early May, with the long runs typically 2.5-3.5 hours on Friday and 2-3 hours on Saturday. My peak long run week was the first week of May and culminated with 2 hours on Thursday and 4 hours on Friday. Monday and Wednesday were usually easy runs of an hour or so, Tuesday was up to an hour and a half including 30-40 minutes of hill repeats, and Sunday and Thursday were rest days.

Three races formed an important part of my training. First up was the Dubai marathon in January. I used that as my official qualifier for Comrades (everyone must run a marathon under five hours in order to be an official Comrades entrant), and while I didn't hit the 3:45 I was hoping for, my time of 4:05 is still pretty good. Next up was the Wadi Bih 50k run in early February, 25 km up a mountain in Oman and then back down. Great practice for fueling, running on rolling terrain, and climbing and ascending steep hills, not to mention getting accustomed to running long distances. The third race was a 50k night race here in Doha in early March. It was 10 laps of a 5 km loop on cobblestones, only good for fueling, mental toughness, and running long distances when tired, which, really, are things you need to be good at when doing something like Comrades.

My monthly mileage was:
Jan - 128
Feb - 105
Mar - 143 (including ten days of no running while on vacation)
Apr - 205
May - 146

Another key component of my training was yoga. I took classes several times a week, the most important ones of which were my wife Heather's on Monday and Wednesday nights. She develops a new lesson plan for each class and always incorporates a lot of core work and hip flexibility/stretching poses, two things that were absolutely critical for me a) getting to the starting line injury-free, and b) getting across the finish line without having that feeling of total exhaustion, the one that comes when your core gets overworked and tired, at any point during the race.

Pacing
My plan for the race was pretty simple: run at a comfortable pace whenever possible, walk or power walk the steeper hills when necessary, and be gentle on the downhills to protect my quads for later. The plan worked beyond my wildest dreams. I never felt exhausted, never hit the kind of low points that I did during Two Oceans last year, and ran a very strong second half of the race. Here are my placings at the timing mats during the race. I'm thrilled with how steady I stayed while much of the field was slowing down around me. Nice to see that I ran all of the second half intervals faster than the many of the people who finished in front of me. Being conservative at the beginning paid huge dividends at the end. I'm also extremely proud of the basically even split for the race. 5:17 for the first half and 5:23 for the second is pretty damn good. Most of those 426 people I passed in the last 7 km were in the 11-hour bus.

location	time	speed	o/a	sex	cat	split	speed	o/a	sex	cat	time of day
17,50 km Lion Park	2:00:18	6:53 min/km	8128	7158	2639	2:00:18	6:53 min/km	8263	7265	2680	07:30:19
44,97 km Halfway	5:17:23	7:04 min/km	8754	7530	2770	3:17:06	7:11 min/km	9181	7716	2819	10:47:24
58,27 km Winston Park	6:58:07	7:11 min/km	7786	6679	2452	1:40:44	7:35 min/km	5628	4710	1718	12:28:07
71,00 km Cowies Hill	8:25:30	7:08 min/km	6797	5837	2130	1:27:24	6:52 min/km	3946	3356	1201	13:55:31
82,28 km Mayville	9:52:01	7:12 min/km	6414	5471	2020	1:26:31	7:41 min/km	4645	3803	1421	15:22:01
89,28 km Durban	10:40:14	7:11 min/km	5988	5113	1899	48:14	6:54 min/km	3677	3087	1149	16:10:15

Fueling
I began to focus on my fueling a week before the race, slowly reducing my intake of the spicy foods I love to eat and replacing them with bland and easy to digest carbs. Friday was a big breakfast after our easy morning run; chicken enchilada and rice for lunch; Italian for dinner (foccacia, calimari, ham, pasta, pesto, etc.).
Saturday - huge breakfast of pancakes, bacon, sausage, and toast. Light-ish dinner of pasta and potatoes. Lots of water and Powerade all day. Two tablets of high-test Imodium in the latter half of the day.
Sunday - Clif bar and half a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast at 3am, along with one last Imodium. I sipped Powerade until getting in the shuttle at 4. I started out with a gel and a salt tab every hour. 1-2 sachets of water at each water stop starting around 10-15 km. Only 1-2 sachets of Energade the whole race (it’s pretty foul compared to Powerade and Gatorade). I grabbed salted potatoes whenever I found them being offered by the aid stations or by the spectators along the route. 2-3 water sachets per water stop the second half of the race (stops along the entire route were ~2 km apart). I took another salt tab and a gel or 3 bloks if an hour had gone by without any potatoes. I had to stop to pee twice (10-15 km in and maybe 70 km in) and use the porta-potty once (at 30 km or so). Along with my conservative pacing strategy, my fueling plan helped keep me strong through the end of the race. I was tired, of course, but never felt like I had run out of energy in my body, mind, or legs.

Comrades Marathon Race Report

Race Day

This was it, the day I'd been working and training and looking forward to for what seemed like forever. And I was right, the alarm rang (really, the iPhone emitted some lovely electronic tones) way too early. I was already awake, as I had been for a while. Even with taking melatonin, I didn’t get much sleep, maybe 3-4 hours or so. I wasn't all that nervous, though I guess my brain just didn't want to slow down and relax. Once I got up, I popped my last pill, ate my breakfast (Clif bar and half of a peanut butter sandwich), started sipping on my Powerade, and made a few trips to the bathroom to try to make sure I was as empty as possible. Holly was doing the same thing, and it was pretty humorous. We looked like little kids just learning to be potty trained – into the bathroom, back out, wait ten minutes, lather, rinse, repeat. I'm not sure it was helping any, but it gave us a way to occupy our time and procrastinate before gearing up. I applied as much BodyGlide as I possibly could to any and all areas and body parts that might chafe during the run, stuck my trusty Band-aids on my chest, put on my clothes, grabbed the drop bag, and went down to the lobby to find the shuttle.

As expected, the shuttle was there at 330 but not really planning to leave any time soon. We sat in the lobby for a bit, moved ourselves to the van, and sat some more. I took advantage of the delay for one more trip to the restroom (success!). Back in the van, no one was saying much. I think we were all in our own space trying to mentally prepare for the day's adventure. The driver did have the music blasting, though. Nothing like Will Smith's Gettin' Jiggy Wit It at 4am before a race.

The trip to the start was as easy as could be. Coming from the northern side of PMB, there was no traffic at all, and we were dropped off about 200 meters from the starting area about 15 minutes after we left the hotel. Holly, Erin, and I said goodbye to Tee and Scott (they were in different corrals than we were), brought our drop bags to the trucks, and entered corral F. I was shocked at how few people were there with an hour to go before the 530 start. Not only was our corral empty, all the other ones were too, and there was no real line at the porta-pottys. We worked our way to the front of the corral and started keeping an eye out for Wendy. The plan was to meet her at the front left corner of corral F. She has a green number signifying that she has finished at least 10 Comrades, so we figured she'd enter corral E, the green number corral, and step under the rope to join us. As we watched for Wendy, the trickle of runners walking past the corrals to bag drop and the entrances to F, G, and H turned into a flood. Arriving at the start before the buses from Durban began discharging thousands of runners was definitely a good thing and helped keep us relaxed and calm. And speaking of bag drop, people were certainly taking advantage of the race not requiring an official bag be used. I saw giant duffel bags, backpacks, and even a few wheeled suitcases being hauled over to the trucks.

With about 25 minutes left before the start, everyone in our corral suddenly stood up. We followed suit without really knowing why or what was happening. A few seconds later, the ropes between the corrals dropped and everyone surged forward toward the start line. With a firm 12-hour gun-to-gun time limit for the race, the closer you are to the line, the less time you lose before actually starting. I'm not really a fan of gun time limits because the people who need the most time to finish lose the most getting across the line. Historically, the runners in the last corral, corral H, take 8 minutes or more to cross the line, meaning they really only have 11:52 in which to run the distance, not 12 hours.

Now pushed forward to what used to be corral C and packed in like a mosh pit, we pretty much gave up on trying to find Wendy. It was just too crowded to spot her unless she was within about 10 feet of us. We were on our own, and I was oddly okay with that. James, Wendy, Emile, and Keith gave us lots of advice about the course, the race, and how to manage them in the days and weeks before the race, and I knew that if I trusted my training and kept their advice in mind, I'd be fine. Holly and Erin didn’t seem too concerned either, though we all knew we'd have more peace of mind having Wendy with us.

Five minutes before the start, it was time to ditch my throw-away clothes, retie my shoes, and get myself ready to run. There were so many people picking up the tops and pants being tossed over the fence of the corral that I don't think my lovely grey PJs hit the ground for more than a second or two before being snatched up. Then came the singing of the South African national anthem (all three verses in all three languages) and Shosholoza. What an amazing moment. Tens of thousands of runners and spectators all proudly singing along with each other with a passion I've rarely seen elsewhere except for the Boston Garden after the marathon bombing last year. Truly, truly special and inspiring. In the silence after the songs, I heard the guys next to us talking about the cock crowing and getting on with the race. Sure enough, a minute or so later, the silence was broken by someone at the start letting out a huge cock crow sound. I thought that was the start of the race and pushed the Start button on my Garmin. No one was moving, so I hit Stop. Two seconds later, the gun went off, I hit Start again, and the race, at least for those up front, was underway. The rest of us were still shuffling toward the line. About three and a half minutes later, we crossed the line, heard the beep from the timing mat, and were on our way. Durban or bust, 89 km to go.

The first few miles were gently uphill. We didn't have a problem holding our pace back because the huge field of runners was running at pretty much the same pace. We couldn't have gone any faster if we had wanted to, not that Holly didn't try. When she feels fresh and eager to run, she likes to push the pace. My job for the first third of the race was to keep her in check. There's a saying at Comrades that for every minute you go too fast in the beginning, you pay for it 10x in the end. That's not something I wanted to test the truth of, so I pulled her back when needed.

About a mile and half along, we came across a guy dressed in a rhino costume running to raise money for rhino conservation in Africa. The guy next to him was carrying the costume's head, and we heard them talking about trying to find volunteers who would each carry the head, which weighed a few kilos, for one kilometer during the run. Just as I was about to stick my hand out and hold the head for the next km, Erin read my thoughts and in no uncertain terms told me "John, no. You are not carrying that head."

We ran along in the dark enjoying the cool temperatures (it was in the low 50s at the start) and dodging road furniture (curbs, traffic medians, etc.) when after half an hour or so, the route took a sharp bend to the left. As we turned the corner, the three of us had a collective "WTF are we doing?" moment. We could see a solid stream of runners across the way making their way slowly up a hill that looked to us to be gigantic. In reality, this section of the course was only about half a mile long, dropping 60 feet from where we made the turn, and then climbing 100 feet on the other side. Not exactly a huge hill, but in the darkness at the very beginning of our first Comrades, it was enough to make us wonder what all the truly big hills would be like.

In the small neighborhoods leaving Pietermaritzburg, the local residents lined their front lawns and cheered for us as we went by. Most of them looked like they were going to head back to bed as soon as the tail end of the field passed by, but more than a few were starting the party early. I think it was about 640am when I spotted the first drinkers with what appeared to be whiskey and coke. I'm not sure that was any more appealing than my first gel, which I had taken along with a salt tab just a few minutes before. Erin had needed a bathroom break, a perfect opportunity for a quick pee and some refueling.

Our first real descent came on the back side of Polly Short's, about six miles in. 700 feet down in just over a mile. The sun was barely starting to light the sky, and we could see the mist of the peaks and valleys all around us. As we reached the bottom, I heard a familiar and welcome voice yell my name. I turned around stunned and amazed to see Wendy catching up to us. Turns out she had entered corral F from the back and not the front. Once the race started, she guessed correctly that we were in front of her and kept moving along until she spotted my red sparkle skirt. Yes, sometimes dressing silly for a race does come in handy. Needless to say, we were very happy to see her and spent the slow jog up the next hill chatting about all that had happened so far in the race and what was coming up next.

Next was a short descent down the back of Little Polly's into a pretty little valley, across a small river, and then onto the long climb towards the highest part of the route. With the sun now well up over the horizon, I finally ditched my hat and my long sleeve top. I downed my second gel and salt tab right on schedule, but quickly realized i should have waited another five minutes. The road made a 90-degree right turn into a stiff wind carrying the foul stench of the local chicken farms. The urge to vomit during a race has never been so strong. It was a long quarter of a mile before the road turned left and I could breathe deeply again.

It was in this section where I noticed Erin beginning to have trouble staying at an even pace. She would be right with us, then stop to walk, and then run to catch up again. Holly and I would keep moving on slowly, and Wendy, bless her heart, would go back for her and pull her up to us. Eventually, Holly and I told Wendy we needed to keep running. She said she's go back for Erin and to wait for them at a gas station a few miles up the road, at the end of what's called Harrison Flats. We looked at our watches to see when that would be and couldn't believe we'd covered 18 miles already. The first three hours had flown by and I was feeling great. The sun was out but behind the clouds, the breeze was keeping things cool, and the previous aid station offered salted potatoes so I was able to grab a handful of them for fuel instead of using another gel.

When Holly and I got to the gas station just before mile 22, we were in total agreement that the Flats were not flat and that they are best described by a South African runners' guide as the graveyard section, a singularly barren stretch between the undulating grassland behind and the Valley of a Thousand Hills ahead. I took advantage of the wait for Erin and Wendy to catch up to make a bathroom run, and a few minutes later, we were on our way again.

Four hours in, we ran past the Ethembeni Home. It's a school for mentally and physically challenged children who come out onto both side the road to cheer and yell and scream for the runners as we pass by. This is one of the highlights of their year, and shaking their hands and slapping high fives with them did as much to lift their spirits as it did mine.

I found this on the Internet from Comrades a few years ago

I found them to be a wonderful source of inspiration as we approached Inchanga, the first really big hill of the day. Not that the others had been small, but Inchanga is a beast. You climb 300 feet in 1.5 miles on the way up and descend 450 feet in another 1.5 miles into Drummond and the halfway point. At the start of the climb, Holly took off power walking (she's a machine at that), Wendy and I alternated walking and running, and Erin was a little bit behind us. Wendy, Holly, and I agreed to meet at the top across from the Comrades sign and wait for Erin.

When I arrived at the top, I found Wendy standing on the side of the road, but Holly was nowhere to be found. I knew she wasn't behind me and told Wendy I was going to continue on to find her. Wendy said she was going to wait for Erin, and I had a feeling that was the last time I'd see either of them until the finish. As I set off down the hill, I could hear the crowds of Drummond in the distance and hoped that Holly was somewhere between here and there waiting for me. I stayed to the righthand side of the road where the camber of the road was not as sharp and kept my eyes peeled for Holly. The road was thick with runners, so finding her was not going to be easy or even very likely. Just as I was resigning myself to running the next 50 km alone, I happened to glance to the other side of the road, glimpsed a flash of red sparkle, and saw Holly standing there. Had I looked over 5 seconds earlier or later, I never would have seen her. I told her Wendy was behind us waiting for Erin. We stood there waiting for the amount of time it took me to eat a gel, at which point we made the decision to press on together without them. Kind of selfish, I know, because we'd planned on running as a group of four all day, but neither Holly nor I wanted to jeopardize our chances of finishing. At some point, you just have to go and run your own race. I felt bad about leaving them behind, but I knew they'd understand.

The atmosphere in Drummond is electric. Thousands and thousands of people line the route cheering, yelling, and screaming in support of the runners. Many of them are also handing out sliced oranges, salted potatoes, pieces of banana, chocolates, and all kinds of other goodies they know we need. Not only is this the halfway point, it's also where the first major cutoff occurs. You need to be across the timing mat in Drummond by 11:30am, six hours into the race, the thinking being that if you can't make it halfway in half the official race time, you'll never be able to negative split enough to get to the finish before the gun goes off. We crossed at 10:47 for a first half time of 5:17. Doubling that and adding time for slowing down, we figured we were looking at a finish somewhere between 11 and 11:30. Not the sub-11 we'd be hoping for, but still safely under 12 hours with plenty of cushion in case something went drastically wrong during the second half.

Climbing out of Drummond, I felt like I was a rider in a mountain stage of the Tour de France. The crowds were that big and that excited and that packed in on the road. There was barely enough room for us to run next to each other, and it was awesome. I needed that energy to drag myself up yet another hill. For a "down" run, there sure was a lot of running up. This was definitely the prettiest part of the route. Mountains and hills and valleys all around, as far as the eye could see. Along this stretch, we saw people grabbing wild flowers from the side of the road and stopping briefly a little farther on. We had reached Arthur's Seat, a spot where the ghost of Arthur Newton, a famous Comrades runner, is said to live. Arthur apparently used to stop and smoke his pipe at this location before continuing on with the race. That wouldn't work well for me, but the guys won the race five times, so maybe he was on to something. Legend says that if you greet him and leave a flower, he'll ensure you a strong second half. We didn't have any flowers but made sure we said hello and touched his plaque for good luck.

Shortly after leaving Arthur's Seat, the 11-hour bus passed us by. It's not really a bus. It's a group of runners led by experienced pacers with the intention of finishing the race in under 11 hours. They call it a bus because of the size of the group. Whereas a typical pace group for a regular marathon might have a few dozen or even a hundred runners following along, the buses for Comrades have hundreds if not thousands of people, with the 11-hour and 12-hour buses being the largest. Sub-11 is a key finishing time for Comrades. It's the traditional finishing time before they expanded the field and added an extra hour to the race in 2003. Many experienced Comrades runners, especially the South Africans, still view 11 hours as the time to beat. Watching the bus pass us by was a bit depressing because we knew we had the ability and had trained well enough to get in under 11.

We soldiered on up Botha's Hill and began a wicked descent into Hillcrest, dropping over 500 feet in not even 1.5 miles. At the bottom, as we entered Hillcrest, we passed the 33 km sign. The markers for this race show how many kilometers you have left to go, and seeing this one was a huge mental checkmark for us. It meant we'd covered the same distance we had run at Two Oceans last year (56 km) in only 12 more minutes. Now we knew we'd be able to finish so long as we kept moving forward at at least a 15 min/mile pace. Or so we thought. For two MBA grads, we were having a hard time with math at this point. Converting from km into miles was hard enough. We then had to figure out how much time we had left for an 11:30 finish and a 12-hour finish, divide that by the miles we thought we had converted, and come up with some sort of a pace, all before the next km maker sign showed up and we had to start over again. We kept coming up with paces ranging from 12 to 16 min/mile and were never really sure which one was right.

Hillcrest is where I finally felt like I was running downhill. The slope was gentle, maybe 2-3%, but it was definitely downhill. Our pace was definitely strong and determined during the next four or five miles as we knocked them down between 10:30-11 min/mile.

Now it was Holly's turn to ask for a bathroom break, so we stopped at the next port-potties that came along. We thought there wasn't a line since we didn't see any runners waiting. Wrong. There were a few little kids standing there instead. Luckily, a guy in the crowd had seen us come over and directed us to a small trailer of VIP-type bathrooms with no line, stairs (ow!), flushing toilets, and even a sink. The extra 50 feet we traveled to get there and back was well worth it.

Not more than five minutes after we were back on course and running once again, a familiar voice called out from behind us. Wendy! Holy shit, were we happy to see her! Turns out Erin had sent her on her way shortly after they crossed the halfway point and she'd been keeping an eye out for us ever since. Score one more for the red skirts! We quickly realized how nice it was to have her back with us because she knew everybody along the route. Okay, not everyone, but she wouldn't get more than 50-100 meters without someone in the crowd shouting out to her, and we were still 10 miles from where she lives.

By now it was close to 1pm and the sun was no longer hiding behind the clouds. I began taking three of the water sachets at each stop, two to drink right away and one to carry with me. I never really felt hot, though. Warm and sweaty and covered in salt, sure, but I never came close to feeling like the heat was oppressive and beating me down. Let's hear it for training in the Doha heat all spring because a lot of the local runners around us were complaining about how hot it was, and it was maybe 80-82.

The route was taking us through lots of neighborhoods, and I kept wondering where the Green Mile was and why we hadn't reached it yet. I had it in my head that it was just around the corner and kept getting disappointed that it wasn't. Finally, we made the turn under the highway at mile 39.5 and there it was. Thousands of cheering spectators all dressed in green. Cheerleaders in bikinis (Holly said no stopping for pictures like we did in Stockholm). Bands playing. Holly pointed out the girls in swings in the trees. Not sure how I forgot about them, but I did.

As the sounds of the Green Mile faded away, we took a left turn onto the highway and began the approach to Field's Hill. This is the one we had driven up the day before and that everyone warned us was the place where many people end up ruining their race by running down too fast. I was so focused on getting prepared for the descent that I didn't even bother to look up and have a view towards Durban, the sea, and the finish line off in the distance. Probably just as well. After running 65 km to this point, it would've been a mental blow to see how far the 25 km left really are. And then we rounded the bend and down we went, Wendy reminding us to go slow and easy.

All I could think on the way down was holy fuck, this is steep. Fuck this is long. Maybe walking will help? Nope, not helping one bit. Ow, my knee! Damn this hurts. Ow, ow, ow! Fuck this hurts. Steep, steep, steep. I remember hearing two guys way back a few hours ago talk about how Field's and Inchanga would be classified as Category 4 hills if one were to use the cycling criteria and rank them. Not sure if that's true or not, but with a 6% average gradient and a length of 1.5 miles, it was brutal. By the time I reached the bottom, the back of my right knee was ON FIRE. Clearly, my ligaments back there did not enjoy having to help absorb the shock of running downhill.

Finally, the monster had been tamed. We turned left and gave our quads a chance to recover while walking up a small overpass. My knee wasn't any happier with walking, in fact probably less so. The road for a bit so up and down we went, walking and running, as more enormous crowds urged us on to Cowie's Hill, the last of the Big Five hills on the route. It's short, only half a mile long, but it climbs over 300 feet. The back of my knee did not enjoy the walk, and my right foot didn't either. I developed a huge blister on the outside of my big toe from altering my gait and stride to compensate for whatever I had done to my knee. To block out the pain, I started doing some more math in my head. Looking at my watch at the top of Cowie's, we had between 10 and 11 miles to go and had been on the road for slightly more than 8.5 hours. To finish in 11:30, I roughly calculated that we could get there with 16-minute miles. Hey, wait a minute, I thought. If we keep ahead of our previously discussed target of 15 min/mile, we could get there in 11:15.

We continued on our way, walking uphill, running downhill, and making good time. The miles were clicking off at a decent clip. 46 - 13:57, 47 - 10:42, 48 - 13:45. I mentioned to Holly that there's a chance we might get in under 11, but she didn't want to hear it. She was going through a tough patch and was worried about even finishing. I reached over, grabbed her hand, gave her a smile, and told her there was no way we weren't going to make it. She had this funny look on her face trying to figure out why I took her hand instead of patting her on the shoulder or back. I told her it was because her hand was probably the least sweaty and sticky body part she had left. Smiles all around.

My smile vanished a little while later when I felt like there was a huge rock rubbing against the back of my heel. I stopped briefly, tried pulling and moving my sock around, and got back up to speed again. Unfortunately, I didn't quite get the sand out and had to stop again. Wendy told me to take my shoe off and clear it up properly. I started to lean against the guardrail when I saw a young woman unfolding a camp chair so she could sit and watch the race. She graciously let me sit my sweaty self down for a minute while I simultaneously took my shoe off while trying not to let my legs stiffen up and cramp. I thanked her profusely and away we went.

This part of the course is a rolling downhill section. There are a few small ups, but for the most part we could run. It's also the part that goes through Westville, Wendy's hometown, and her friends and club supporters were out in full force. Everyone was yelling hello to her and asking about "her group." She had told them she was running Comrades with some friends in order to make sure they finished, and they were excited to see and wave at us too. Really, though, my mind was just focused on continual forward motion. Not Wendy, though. She was chatting with people, running across the road to say hi and take pictures, and even managed to set up lunch with one of her friends for Wednesday. Yes, while the rest of the field was doing all they could to get to the line, she's out there making lunch plans. She's a machine.

Leaving Westville, she told us we had 10 km left to go. Hmmm, my watch says 9:36. We've got 1:24 to run a 10k and finish in under 11 hours. I started upping the pace slightly and told Holly that I would decide at the Tollgate if I wanted to really try for sub-11. We hit the next mile in 11:41. Even with a very steep climb up what's know as 45th Cutting, the one after that was still 11:58. With a sharp left turn and a walk up a very steep ramp, we eased on to the highway for the final pull into Durban. A nice and gentle downhill brought us across the 82.28 km timing mat in 9:52. We had about an hour to run the last 7 kilometers, and that I knew we could do. We walked up the hill to Tollgate and began the last 5 km of the race.

Cresting the hill, I was struck by the huge mass of humanity on the road a few hundred meters in front of us. Holy shit, I exclaimed! It's the 11-hour bus!!! Somehow, our steady progress and mix of strong running with walking when needed had brought us to the back of the bus. Now we had a decision to make, either stick with them or go around them, but really, there wasn't much of a choice. It wouldn't be easy since they were stretched across the shoulder and all but one of the highway's four lanes, but there was no way I was going to sit behind them and finish in the middle of a pack. I charged off around them, pulling Wendy and Holly along with me. I think I got a little carried away because Holly had to slow me down more than a few times and we still ran mile 54 in 10:08.

We ran and walked and ran and walked, getting ever closer to the stadium. There weren't any spectators on the highway, but we did run an overpass beneath which was a really interesting looking outdoor market. Turning left off the highway onto what was the only flat piece of road we'd seen all day, I was doing my best to stay composed. Not an easy thing to do when I'd been training and working for this for so long. Not only was I about to finish, I was about to finish well under 11 hours after giving up all thoughts of doing so five hours earlier. Before I knew it, we had passed the 1 km to go sign and were making the turn into the stadium. We did a little zig-zag through the gate, watched a guy get told to turn his hat around because it wasn't one from the race sponsors (this is why Holly put a Band-aid over the Nike logo on her hat), and entered the tunnel.

Coming out of the tunnel into the stadium, we were hit with a deafening wall of sound. The stands were packed with people screaming and yelling, ringing bells and blowing horns, and willing the runners around the finishing loop to the line. When my feet hit the grass of the pitch, I broke out a huge smile, pumped my fists over and over again, and had my own celebration of conquering one of the hardest and most challenging races in the world. I waved to the crowd, pumped my arms some more, and made the last turn and could finally see the finish line. I threw my arm around Holly, she put hers around Wendy, and we crossed the line together 10 hours, 40 minutes, and 14 seconds after the gun had gone off in Pietermaritzburg. We did it!! Holy fuck we did it!!!! I was ecstatic and never more thrilled and excited to have finished a race.

Then the tears came and I gave Holly a huge hug for being my friend, my running spouse, and crazy enough to do this race with me. The volunteers gave us our medals and patches, I sniffled a few more times, we took a picture, and we shuffled off to keep our legs moving and find the International tent. Comrades provides a huge tent and gathering area where international runners can relax, eat, drink, and meet up with their family and friends after the race. Sadly, by the time we managed to hobble over there, the water was gone and so was literally all but six cans of beer - Castle Light, so no great loss there. We found an empty patch of grass and collapsed onto the ground. All I wanted to do was get my shoes and socks off, a process that took at least five minutes. I untied one lace, started to loosen it, felt my feet and legs cramp up, and stopped to stretch them out. This went on over and over again until my swollen feet were finally free and my toes able to wiggle in the grass.

The scene inside the International area.
The finishing loop is just on the other side of the short metal fences.
The video screen is showing the approach to the stadium, the entrance into the stadium from the tunnel, and the loop all the way around to the finish line

Now we needed our drop bag with our clean and dry clothes. One of the volunteers told us it would be at the general bag tent, which was somewhere on the other side of the pitch. As I limped off to find it, Holly stayed behind with Rupert. I ran into Vanessa at the exit of the International area. We had seen her on our way into the tent, and she was still there waiting for James to show up. He was supposed to finish an hour and a half before us, not a good sign. She did give me some very helpful information, though. She told me our bags were on the far side of the tent and not all the way on the other side of the stadium. That's what I had been led to believe originally, but I was too mentally drained to argue with the volunteer who gave me the erroneous information.

With bag in hand, Holly and I could finally change out of our sweaty tops, put on flip flops, and, most importantly, dig out our phones and start taking pictures and letting the world know we had done it. James had arrived while I was picking up the bag, and his friend Greg took some great shots of us celebrating our accomplishment.

All hail the red sparkle skirts!

Tiny medals, big smiles 

Rupert, James, me, Holly

Rupert rocking his back to back medal

By now, the 11-hour mark had gone by and there was still no sign of Erin. I pulled out my phone to check on her progress, thankful that we'd all signed up to have our splits from the timing mats automatically posted on our Facebook page. I saw she crossed the 82.28 km mat in 11:10 with a projected finish time of 12:06. We all crossed our fingers and hoped she'd find the strength in her legs to cover those last 7 km in 50 minutes.

With each passing minute, the roar of the crowd grew louder and louder and louder. They wanted to see as many people finish the race as possible, and with something like 40% of the finishers crossing the line in the last 30-45 minutes, there was a steady stream of people receiving those cheers. The first of the 12-hours buses, hundreds of runners, passed by the tent at 11:45, and then another equally large one a few minutes later. The crowd was at a full-throated roar at this point, and I was too. I went to stand by the fence to watch for Erin, bang on the metal, and yell as loud as I could for everyone pushing to get across the line before the gun went off. It was quite interesting to see the different kinds of people finishing in the last 10 minutes. Some were members of the Green Number club signifying at least 10 Comrades finishes, and their experience showed. They were generally relaxed, calm, and not stressed over cutting it close. The first-timers, on the other hand, were clearly stressed and then finally relieved to have made it in time.

At 11:57, the video screen showed a runner collapse on the grass as he entered the stadium and two people behind him stopping to help him up and carry him along towards the finish. The crowd exploded in recognition of the potential sacrifice the two men were making in helping the fallen runner. From the point where your feet hit the grass to the finish line is several hundred meters and probably two minutes of running at the end of a 56-mile race when you're carrying another runner. That's the spirit of Comrades, as they say, and thankfully all three of them made it across the line in time.

10! 9! 8!! 7!! 6!!! 5!!! The countdown was ear-splitting as we willed all of the runners in the stadium to make that final left turn and cross the line. As heartwarming as watching those guy carry the injured man across the finish was, the firing of the gun was equally that heartbreaking. The official stood with his back to the line, and when the clock read 12:00:00, he pulled the trigger. The gun fired and the race marshals moved to block the line so no one else could cross. The last finisher was on the ground, having lunged and dived forward to just squeak across. The first non-finisher, who was less than three feet from the line when the gun sounded, was crushed. I felt really bad for the guy, not only because he didn't make it but also because the SABC TV crew was right there to interview him. Watching on the big video screen, he seemed to handle his fate and interview with much more grace than I think I would have.

12:06 came and went and still no sign of Erin. Finally, about 5 minutes later, we spotted a flash of green sparkles on the approach to the stadium. A few minutes passed by, and there she was, still smiling and doing what she set out to do: finish the damn race.

I'll have more pictures coming soon once the official photographer is finished tagging them all, but in the meantime, here's a link to my race video. You can see a great shot of us crossing the line if you choose the "Finish - Total right (until 16:40)" option.

My Comrades Summary post, coming soon, will have all the stats I can think of about my training, my race day plan for fueling and hydration, and whatever else comes to mind. My Garmin profile of the race will be there too, but here it is now for those who have asked for it.