Monday i had long luxurious sleep in. That was a pretty self-indulgent and sooky happening for this old marathoner. After my sooky sleep in it was packing and getting logistics sorted. Don't laugh, there is lot to get organised when travelling overseas.
Tuesday was spent traveling to South Africa. Brisbane to Sydney; Sydney to Johannesburg; then on to Durban. In all 22 hours of airports, airplanes, check ins, security screening, cramped seating, foul air, rather curt Qantas staff, three movies on a notepad sized screen and last but not least last minute dash to retrieve our luggage in Johannesburg, which we were told was to go straight to Durban. I always carry my kit in my carry-on bag, so that was all that mattered to me, but Jennelle is far more practical than me. I went for a run along Durban Beachfront on Wednesday and Thursday with complete rest from running until the start.
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| Giving back. |
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| Durban Parkrun |
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On Saturday we went on the legendary Bruce Fordyce's bus tour of the course. It was a last minute decision and i am glad i went on the course tour. I adjusted my goal pace back to 8 hours for the course. Having said that, even looking out the side window of a bus doesn't really indicate the difficulty of the course. Looking back i would have went with the 8:30 bus and took walk breaks. Bruce Fordyce, Lindsey Parry, Norrie Williamson and just about every veteran runner i spoke to recommended short walk breaks. When the 8:30 bus went by, i got it. The runners walked regularly. Mind you, I am still uncertain why i had the cramping problem. Maybe, if i had an "on" day it wouldn't have made any difference. Arrrh well...
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| Nine-time Comrades winner, Bruce Fordyce and Ronnie the newbie. |
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| Note the 42 on bib. Dave Lowe. 42 Comrades done. Legend. Dave convinced me to take the course tour. |
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| Wall of honour. |
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| Arthur's seat. |
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| Scared Ronnie. Ironic that test time on clock was within three minutes of my finish time the next day. |
MY COMRADES RACE.
For breaky I had three avocado and vegemite crackers and cup of coffee. Then I jogged around the room, loosened up as much as I could in a hotel room and prepared. We had arranged to go to the start with Bruce Hargreaves and his group. He had secured V.I.P. passes for Jennelle and a few other wives of runners. So Jennelle had a spot in V.I.P area and had a close up view of the start. Got a great video too. I stayed until Jennelle headed to her area and then made my way to the ABC start.
I was surprised to see that the runners were already packed in tighter than my suitcase. I joined the queue for the toilets at about 4:45am but did some maths and worked out that they wouldn't make it before 5:15. I don't have very good continence or bowel control since the surgery and radiation for prostate cancer , so i was bit concerned. Anyway, with about 15 minutes before they closed the gates i headed for the start. Just as well i did move on, because there was a line up to get through the gates into the start area. The line was about five wide with bodies just pressing against each other to force our way inside the gates. I like my space, but this is Comrades.
Once inside the start pens, it was just a matter of not getting too emotional and standing with bodies pressing quite firmly together. There are dozens of videos of the start so I won't go through that. For me the highlight was the song Shosholoza https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shosholoza. It has an interesting history, but, according to Wikipedia, these days it is more about showing support for those struggling. I had a few tears trickle down my face during Shosholoza.
"The song was usually sung to express the hardship of working in the mines. It expresses heartache over the hard work performed in the mines. The word Shosholoza or "chocholoza!" means go forward or make way for the next man, in Ndebele.[1] It is used as a term of encouragement and hope for the workers as a sign of solidarity. The sound "sho sho" uses onomatopoeia and reminiscent of the sound made by the steam train (stimela).[1] Stimela is the Zulu word for steam train.[1] "Kulezo ntaba!" means (At those far away mountains), "Stimela Siphume eZimbabwe" (the train come from Zimbabwe), "Wen' uya baleka" (Because you're running away/hurrying).[1] In contemporary times, its meaning is to show support for any struggle.[5] "
The cannon fired after Max Trimbourne's traditional cockcrow and we were off on our various individual struggles. I was feeling blessed to have made it here and to experience the start of Comrades. To be honest it is all a bit of a surreal blur. There was a few times I had little idea where i was on the course. The five big hills are interspersed with other climbs. Eighty eight kilometres is a long way and a lot of minor hills can fit into that distance. Suunto logged 1400m or so of climbing. I think the sceen shot below best shows how my run went.
I had set my watch to 10km laps. My intention was to run about 55 minutes per ten km. I had also worked out my splits for the top of the five main landmarks Cowie's Hill; Field's Hill; Botha's Hill; Ichanga (Ichanga is a Zulu word that means euphemistically the blade of a knife, or i have been told it means the sound that is made when a spears blade is pulled out of flesh) and Polly Shortts. I wrote my splits for the top of these hills on my arm but have lost the copy of these splits. I based them on a runner who has run well over the years. I just added 30 seconds a kilometer to his splits for a 7:30 time. From memory i thought i could run a little over eight hours. Damn it!
The first few kilometres were spent trying not to be tripped and avoiding getting in the way of other runners. I couldn't see my watch and even after sunrise i had trouble seeing it because of my poor eyesight. So i ran by feel. It's pretty well all you can do on such a course. Kilometre splits mean little given the terrain. This is why I set my watch to ten km splits.
My legs, especially my hip flexors, felt a bit sore right from the start. But i felt strong - really strong. Things were going reasonably well up until just before Drummond. I made two pit stops. I carried a torch and a pair of undies in case i had trouble. Gave the torch away to a child spectator and left my waist belt with undies in the porta loo. You wouldn't read about my second pit stop in Wikipedia. Seriously, a row of three toilets just off the road behind the crowds lining the course. I get through the spectators and, with my poor eyesight, i stop before the toilets to make sure they are free, two are occupied one green, just then another runner ducks in before me. I says with a fair bit of attitude: "For f**k's sake." The runner pops his head out and sort of apologising says: "I just want a pee." It was more important to stay calm than let that worry me. When i came out, i noticed a non-runner exiting one of the other dunnies. Arrh well... mustn't grumble.
Ichanga is where all hell broke loose in my calves. I can't recall ever having cramps during a race. I have had cramps after, usually from some irritant like sitting on a plastic chair that aggravated my hamstrings or something like that, but never whilst running. The next 23 km from Ichanga to Umlaas Road were a matter of running at a pace just before the cramping took hold. It was like engaging in brinksmanship with my own legs. I could manage the flats and downs but rough road and even slight incline set them off again. This gradually got worse and worse as the race went on. By the top of Umlaas Road, with about 18 km to go, i was well and truly in dire straights. If i was a younger person with the opportunity to make amends, i would have pulled the pin (probably not - i don't know?). I stopped for my dilly bag which had some solid food Jennelle had packed. I had forgotten about the food and left it in the bag on the shelf. I did grab a protein bar but only took one bite. Don't think i could have stomached avocado and buckwheat crackers that i left behind at that stage.
The run down to Little Polly's gave some relief. I even dipped down to a few 5:30s and just as i was thinking i might survive the climb up Polly Shortts i hit Little Pollys and i think it was just before this that the 8:30 pacer bus went by me. I watched and did what they did but couldn't run at their pace without the cramps becoming disablingly severe. I didn't want to wreck my chances of finishing. Having said that, it was sort of good to know that i could walk it in and meet the final cut off.
Polly Shortts was bloody hard and disappointing. I had seen myself running up there tired but moving along at a decent pace. Instead i found it quicker to walk stiff legged using my butt muscles than jog. When i tried to run, other runners who were walking passed me. And my calves were just a big balls of fire. Running just triggered severe cramping. I walked most of it, down, disappointed, but not beaten. Before you get your violins out, i know this sounds like a big whinge - if you haven't experienced a bad day at Comrades - I am just telling my journey as honestly as i can. With 8 km to go, I started running. I was determined to keep running. I had been told so many times to keep moving or completely seize up. I also knew that i needed to just keep going if i was to earn a Bill Rowan Medal. Polly Shortts and a lot of the miles leading into it, was one of the worst and best experiences of my running. Sometimes the bad runs test your mettle more than others.
The last eight KM took forever and a few days in my mind. In a lot of races i curse that i run out of miles to catch a fellow competitor, but today i just wanted to not break down; to finish and get my Bill Rowan medal. I ran into the finish, i was not emotional at all. I was flat and out of all energy -mental and physical. When I stopped my calves were still cramping, but i thought i would be okay. The international tents were on the other side of course and the runners had to walk over a temporary fly-over bridge. I put my foot on the first step and that was it. My calves went into full-on cramp. I had to be stretchered back to the medical tent for help. I don't think they knew what to do. I had to tell them to leave me alone as they were just aggravating my calves. I just needed to let my muscles settle before they touched them. Eventually, they seemed to get proper instruction on how to deal with this kind of cramp. Gentle massage and ice gel helped a lot. Of course, to add to the fun i was having, the stretcher carriers were just kids and had to stop a few times on the way to the medical tent to rest and when they put me down they would just drop the stretcher from about a foot off the ground. And here i was pleased that my back had held up so well.
The most amazing thing about this run is the spectator support. They love their Comrades and it is apparent that they love the runners. I have never heard "Aussi Aussi Oi Oi Oi" so many times with such gusto. And the very kind way that some of the spectators, particularly the locals, would say "We welcome you to our country" or similar. The tables along the course have everything you could possibly want and the helpers were outstanding and seemed to be able to read your mind as to what was needed. I had three standing massages which helped me along for a while. Everyone was so helpful. Crowd support was a highlight especially the Ethembeni School for the Disabled who line up at the front of their school in their wheelchairs and cheer the runners -
http://ethembenischool.co.za/
I told Jennelle that i was just going to put few pictures up and no text because it was inevitable that my final blog would be a big long whinge. Well that came to fruition. Nevertheless, that was my Comrades 2017. My best running day ever.
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| This guy wanted a photo with 'Ron' the Aussi, so we both waved at the camera. |
https://www.strava.com/activities/1022540512
I’d like to thank you Ron for sharing everything you have, especially this wrap-up post. It is a very honest account in terms of the pacing details and more importantly your thought processes along the way.
ReplyDeleteYour training was exceptional, no doubt. To have done 50,000m of climbing and 3500k since Jan 1 puts you well over three younger guys I was following that targeted well under sub-7.
Your initial pacing strategy and aim of sub 8 seemed conservative and very rational. Pacing at Comrades is so tricky, averages are meaningless. I also struggle to see my watch and was interested to hear that Steve Way (came 9th) say he ran completely off one number - his heart rate which he simply kept below a certain value.
Watching your splits live, I could tell something wasn’t right. Gosh, there are so many runners with cramp at Comrades, especially on the down e.g. Caroline Wostmann last year.
My belief is we all train so hard the damage is done even before arriving in Durban. The long flight probably compounds matters. The answer is probably to stop running hills 5 weeks before to allow full recovery.
Anyway, what can you do when the cramps set in, answer: not much except keep moving forward. With everything going south at a high rate of knots you held tough Ron. These times are actually the true test of the Marathoner don’t you think?
When everything is going well, it’s all so easy. To be suffering so much with hours to go takes real guts to survive. Congratulations on a richly deserved Bill Rowan medal.
What a race eh, so fantastic to be involved. Makes me want to go back after reading your blog. Will you return?
Best Regards, Alan Peacock
Alan. Thanks for your interest, encouraging words and input.
ReplyDeleteMy training was more about pushing boundaries to see what old codgers can do, if put to the test. I think older people often underestimate their potential. Probably makes no difference in the scheme of things, but, just maybe by pushing the boundaries what is regarded as normal for older folks will be re-assessed.
Yes I agree that monitoring heart rate is a very effective way to pace oneself. It irks me that i can't wear a monitor strap because it irritates my back. The strap sits across the area where my discs are compressed. When i do wear a HRM, i have to sticky tape it to my chest. I have asthma and sometimes i will be breathing really hard and, but my pulse will be low. So sometimes i can make the mistake of thinking i am puffing because of the asthma, when running too fast is the cause.
I agree that 5 weeks out is a good time to ease off the hills. I don't have any real depth of understanding of human physiology so probably talking nonsense, but i do wonder whether or not we are confusing cramping with muscle spasm. Cramping is the muscle responding to muscle damage or some mineral imbalance. Spasm is the muscle trying to protect a damaged joint or perhaps bone. I don't know. Bones, joints take more time to recover than soft tissue. Just a thought. Nevertheless, in my case it was in the belly of my calves so cramp for sure.
Yes. Character is tested more so when things aren't humming along. So true in life too. The philosopher and runner, Mark Rowlands, looks into this in his book "The Philosopher and the Wolf". Running can be testing but illness, aging, decline, death can be very testing. Sometimes more so when it is someone else who is struggling. In Comrades Marathon people struggle just as in life. In Comrades Marathon people look out for their friends just as in life. Comrades is probably the ultimate character- developing sport.
Will i return? Well it is expensive. I had only intended to run it as a bucket list kind of event. I am able to run pain free now at a faster pace.
A lot also depends on my health. The cancer is still active and next month i will be undergoing a heap of scans (new method0 to locate the cancer. Still micro tumours, but blood tests show an increase in a blood marker (PSA) that indicates tumours are growing. I also turn 65 next April so, all things manageable, i will be considering a few other events. I would love to return to get it right but i guess it is time to move on. We'll see.