Kosmos 3-in-1 (3 out of 3)

93. You know, my gran died at the age of 94. On Christmas day, a few months before she died she had taken a soft tumble down a carpeted stair onto the very soft buttocks of my sister, Saskia, which had at once left Saskia incredibly surprised, me roaring with laughter as I untangled the two of them and granny most embarrassed. I cried that afternoon as we helped her into the car and she said: “I’m sorry I was such a nuisance today. I was fine until I was 90, but I’ve kind of gone down hill since then.” I miss her regularly on my runs. She was a very righteous woman. She was very kind to me and she was incredibly interesting. Unfortunately, I only realised how interesting when she died and we were packing all her stuff into boxes. I’ve kept most of that stuff as a reminder of where I come from and how I should be remembered when I die. She was formidable. Ridiculously independent. She lived on her own for 25 years after my grandfather died. She walked to the shops, she played bowls, she crocheted, she had tea. She died one day as she was preparing to take a bath. No suffering, no deterioration, except of course, from 90 to 94 when she felt she had become a nuisance to all of us.

As I started the 10km and the cold air had sufficiently cooled my muscles, I felt like gran must have felt that Christmas day she fell on Saskia. My legs just wouldn’t do what I wanted them to do. I was shocked at the rapid deterioration. I had walked to the start okay. What was this? It’s like someone had removed my legs’ oily bits and they’d seized up. I tried to run a few steps, walked, shuffled, groaned and resigned myself to the fact that they did not want to run and so I’d have to walk. People streamed past me on the sand road. As I reached the tar, an ex-colleague, Maurice, run up next to me and encouraged me to run forward. I started running and he and I ran together slowly for 2kms. He was much faster than me and I could tell I was keeping him back. I told him to go ahead as I was going to walk. And that’s what I did. I tried to run. Seriously, I tried to run, but either my legs or my brain were having none of it. I walked to the 5km mark. When I saw that 5km and realised I was only half way through this race and I was just pathetically walking like I had done 1000s of kilometres ago when I had first started running, I started crying. Sobbing. How had this happened? My glute was sore. My ankle was sore. My achilles was sore. And those were the parts that were still working. Was I ever going to run without pain? Was I ever going to be a super athlete like the Illuminati? Hahahaha! Well we certainly know that answer to that last question, now don’t we? It’s funny how you lose perspective when you’re tired and miserable. I had run 42km without an ounce of pain and I’d managed a decent time. I’d only started to suffer half way into the 21km and it was still manageable pain. I was 68kms into the day at this point and so I lost all perspective and I cried. I put my head down and I cried into my sunglasses. Joseph came running up behind me. He called my name as he approached. I ignored him. He asked me if I was okay. I shook my head silently without looking up. He asked me if I was crying. I nodded without lifting my head. He asked me if he could help or if I needed anything. I shook my head silently without looking up. Still sobbing. Misery certainly didn’t love company on this one.

Many more people streamed past me. People who really shouldn’t pass me. Ever! They all passed me which didn’t help my misery. As I neared the 6km mark without a watch still, (but I think the kilometre from 5km had probably taken me 10 or 15 minutes) Rick and another friend came running up to me. Rick greeted me and then with surprise asked me, “Are you crying?” “Yes.” I whimpered. “Why are you crying?” he asked, still surprised. “Well….I um….well…” A million good psychological reasons filtered through my brain, but none of them were able to provide a logical explanation to myself or Rick about why I was crying at that point in what was proving to be a phenomenal personal victory. I really didn’t know why I was crying and, not having any logical reason to cry, I decided to carry on running. I started running and ran and ran the rest of the way. I passed Rick and his friend. I thanked them. I passed other people and thanked those who had asked me if I was okay as they passed me. I thanked Joseph and Caroline as I passed them. I ran 3kms very well and, as I approached that last kilometre, who did I happen upon, but my dear friend, Diepkloof Harry. It was so wonderful to see him and we greeted each other with surpirse, joy and love. I was briefly reminded of the scene from Lion King where Nala and Simba reunite for the first time since Simba had run away. (Obviously without the “I just tried to eat your best friend” part). I’ve missed Harry. Since I’ve been going to track, my speed has improved and I’m running much faster, so friends like Harry are now about 5 or 10 minutes behind me on races. I wish he would come with me to track so that he, like me, can become faster and run with me.

Harry and I finished the Kosmos 3-in-1 together. It was appropriate to do so. As I approached the timing mats, Justin asked me where my hop, skip and jump were. I laughed and managed a pathetic hop as I went over the mat. My head had pulled myself together, but my legs were just hanging in there so I couldn’t do my previous elated, exuberant jump in the air. It didn’t change the feeling. 73.3kms for the day. What an amazing thing to do! What a totally crazy thing to do! Everyone who is preparing for Comrades should do that race. It’s a lovely day out. Picnicking, swimming, running, sleeping in the sun. It’s a truly South African day out and it’s probably a better benchmark for your Comrades readiness than an ultra of 50-60kms. I think. One should probably ask anyone who knows anything about that.

The past week has been euphoric with many people congratulating me and showering me with love for having completed the whole day’s running. I came back to earth with a massive bump on Saturday when I returned to track (since the race, I had only managed a 10km on Friday) and was reminded about how average I am! Lol! Halfway into the warm up run with Illuminatis, I felt like my chest was going to explode and an aneurysm was brewing in my left brain. They were motoring along chatting and breathing slowly. I was panting like a large dog with it’s head hanging out a car window! Michelle and I were given similar track programmes except she was given 4 sets of 1200m. I was given 3 sets. She lapped me on set 2. Lol! I had made a rookie error at Kosmos and worn my freebie Adidas shoes for the marathon and changed to Asics for the shorter races. It occurred to me on Saturday during the post track session 8km time trial that my achilles has been getting worse and worse since the addition of the Adidas shoes, even though they are ridiculously comfortable to run in. So no more long or hilly runs in the Adidas. Asics will be my Comrades shoe this year and I’ve got a few more weeks of rehab for the achilles and glute. Rookie lesson learned. But no-one can take this away from me.

No-one can take this away....well, a burglar could, but you know what I mean.

No-one can take this away….well, a burglar could, but you know what I mean.

And at least I don’t have to give the shirt back……

Yes I did! No refund policy on the shirt!

Yours in the love of running and running 

Slow Coach

Kosmos 3-in-1 (2 out of 3)

I was afraid. 21km is a long way to go for anyone. It’s a fun distance because, on its own, it is challenging, but not totally unachievable. I wasn’t sure I could do a full 21, considering I had just managed a PB marathon a few hours earlier. But, I’d had a rest. I’d had a swim which is an absolute necessity in this race as it cools the muscles down and reduces inflammation which happened as a result of the marathon. It also acts as a radiator for your body. So, for those of you who are going to join me for the beautiful with a hint of Armageddon Kosmos 3-in-1 next year, remember your swimming clothes. What I hadn’t noticed in my two and a half hour break was the swelling bruise which had started to appear on my arm. I know! Everyone was asking the same thing. You just ran a PB marathon. What the hell with the bruise? I feel a bit embarrassed and, if you were one of the poor sods who came in behind me in the marathon, I’m sorry. At the end of the marathon, there were energy drinks which I didn’t want to take and there were big half drums of water sachets in ice resting on trestle legs. I leaned into one of the drums, and kind of relaxed my whole body weight onto the side of the drum which tipped up the entire thing, hitting my arm and causing all the ice, water and sachets to pour onto the floor. I couldn’t bend down to pick it all up and kind of stared sheepishly at it for 3 seconds before walking away feeling and looking guilty. I’m really sorry about that. If it’s any consolation, I’ve got this huge bruise as a result.

For those who didn't get cold water after me at the end of the marathon, my debt has been paid

For those who didn’t get cold water after me at the end of the marathon, my debt has been paid

The bruise and swelling made swinging my arms a bit of a challenge, but at least my legs were working. Justin, Megan and I had made our way to the start. Michelle had gone home. Having won the marathon, she felt no need to prove anything to anyone and chose to leave the rest of the 3-in-1 to minions like myself. I bet she went to knit a matching beanie for the scarf she’d created while waiting patiently for me to arrive at the finish. And then we were off. Again. God came straight out of the sky in a rumble of thunder and a cool breeze and broke my watch. God loves me like that. Without a watch, I had no idea. I had no clue how far I was. I had no idea what speed I was running. I had no idea of any of that. It was, on the one hand, unnerving and on the other, quite liberating. I just ran to run and to get through 21kms. Because, after all, that’s what I came here for…to run and run and run. I can’t remember much of the 21km except that for the first 8km I was the grumpiest I’ve been. So grumpy, in fact, that I told Joseph, you better just leave me because I’m grumpy and I’m going to hit people. My word! 3kms later I caught up with him and Caroline and apologised for being such a shithead. Rudeness is not necessary.

The weather was pleasant. It was hot at times, but was mostly pleasant. I met a nice lady from Golden Reef runners and we ran together for a short while. I missed my dogs. I was passed by and then passed the 2.40 bus. All in all, a very decent 21km. My right glute and left ankle were starting to complain, but I was used to that. At the 15km mark I realised that I had run 57km that day which is further than Two Oceans Ultra Marathon. I did a little hop and a skip and a jump. That fact filled me with energy and I ran the rest of the 21 filled with joy that I had run so far on one day and I wasn’t dead and I was far from last.

We came here to run, not to generate electricity

We came here to run, not to generate electricity

The 21km was over in 2:37 which was respectable enough for me. Megan and Justin were at the end, near this sign, cheering me on.

We came here to run, after all. I did a little jump for joy as I crossed the timing mat for the second time that day to record 63.3km of racing in one day. Do you have any idea how much money you’d need to go to the Spar enough times to cover that distance? Now I was invincible. 63.3km is longer than any of the long runs in preparation for Comrades and I had finished it. I was yet to cry. I hadn’t died. I hadn’t come last. In fact, hordes of people streamed in behind me. Some of them hadn’t even run a marathon in the morning. They were all behind me. And so were 63.3kms.

The swim during the break was less of a swim than a dunk of legs, especially my poor old spasmodic glute. The break was short. And then, before we knew it, we were putting on new socks and shoes and shorts and shirts and hurrying to the start again for the 10km. I was sleepy. I felt like I just wanted to get this over with and climb into bed with a nice cup of Milo and go to sleep. I was also getting very cold. I had spent a large part of the day being wet and now it was cooling down. It was overcast and the rain was coming. As we stood waiting for the 10km to start a 93-year old lady crept up to me, stole my legs, replaced them with hers and left me there with my broken glute and her old legs……that old bitch!…..

Kosmos 3-in-1 (1 out of 3)

A marathon. Only 2% of the world has ever run a marathon. That’s what I’ve heard. It’s probably more like: Of all the people with fancy running watches, only 2% have run a marathon. I’m sure there are kiddies in some African villages like QwaQwa or Hluhluwe (for those of you who are not South African, you can’t even begin to imagine how those are pronounced) that walk that distance to and from school every day. In fact, I know there are 10-year old kids in rural South Africa who walk 20 treacherous kilometres to school in the morning and then do it again home in the evening. So when some watch company or running shoe company gives the 2% of the world’s population statistic, I think their statistical sample might be a bit myopic. Anyway, that having been said, a marathon is a fucking far way to walk or run.  More so if the only thing waiting for you at the end is school.

I didn’t have to go to school on Saturday. I had to get to the pool on Saturday. I suppose I could have just stayed behind with the wives club, or slept in at the B&B (which was kindly donated to me by my dear, old friend, Andrew) and got to sit in the pool. But no! Filled with sushi and the mid-life crisis goal of one day running the Comrades Marathon, I melted out of bed at 4.45am and put on the neatly laid out clothes, packed the cooler box into the car, packed the change of clothes and the Asics (I was wearing the Adidas) into the car and drove sleepily to the start of the race. It had rained steadily through the night and the dirt road to Lake Umuzi was sludgey and potholed. I’ll tell you that people from Gauteng who complain about the potholes must just go out into the Platteland and see the shit they have to deal with there. My whiney DA ward councillor would be apoplectic if he saw what those roads look like. So, shitty roads navigated, I parked and ambled around with nothing to do. Justin had asked “run at the back with me” which was a stupid joke and I’m sure only meant to poke fun at me. You see Justin runs Washie with Megan. Washie is 100 miles. 160 kilometres. They run that in one day.  LESS than one day. They know not of “running at the back with me”.  So when Justin invited me to run “at the back”. I think he meant, “run at the back OF me”, not “run at the back WITH me”.  I can only assume his English and typing skills are poor.  So I looked at the back at the start, but neither Justin nor Megan were to be found. I’m sure they snuck up to the front with Illuminati Michelle. Ah yes! Michelle. I had encountered Michelle as I was ambling around and we had stood in the middle (waaay too close to the front for my liking) chatting away. She had eyed some of her usual competitors. My competitors are a bit more difficult to eye because they’re really just voices in my head. I’m trying to do it now. Oooh! No. Can’t type and do that at the same time. So we were eyeing Illuminati Michelle’s competitors when it came that time. About 5 minutes to go. Michelle told me she was going to move to the front front (like Illuminati front) why don’t I come with. Again, that poking fun at the fat kid thing these A-teamers like to do. I told her I’d cry and squeal like a girl again like I had at Sasolburg and she laughed and I laughed. So she went to the front to head off with the other Illuminati. It was very cool to be seen with her. I was alone. No Illuminati. No A-teamers. No Cool Kids. Just me.

Then we were off. My goal for the day was 73.3km. One day! 73.3km! Can you imagine that? That’s very far. That’s like to my Spar and back 76 times in one day. Okay, now it doesn’t seem that far any more. Plans for the weekend? Can I get you anything while I’m at the Spar 76 times? Just think how I crave the couch after just going to the Spar to buy bread. And that’s when I’ve driven there! Anyway. This was my goal for the day, not to walk the dog to the Spar or to buy bread or to go back and forth between home and the Spar 76 times, but to run a marathon. Swim. Rest. Run a half marathon. Swim. Rest. Run 10 kilometres. Why? Well, it’s all part of my very cunning non-planned plan to run the Comrades Marathon. The Comrades Marathon is 90 kilometres. Let’s not even try work out the Spar calculation on that one! 90 kilometres. I have 12 hours in which to run those 90 kilometres. Most long runs which are held in preparation for Comrades are about 55-60 kilometres long. The experts (who know nothing about the voices in my head or my knock knees or the couch stuck to my glutes or anything else about my not made for running self) say that you should get to Comrades with that 55 or 60km run on your legs and your head will get you through the remaining 30-35kms. What a load of bullshit! 30 kilometres is very far to run. Especially if you’ve already been running for 7 or 8 hours. Imagine if, on Comrades day, I get to 60 kilometres and I think, my body and my mind have never gone further than this before…..AND I’ve still got 30 kilometres to go. I would melt. Yes, very learned colleagues and 100 time Comrades runners, I know, YOU wouldn’t, but I would. 73.3kms in one day would mean that on Comrades day I’d get to the 73.3km mark and know that this is the furthest my body and mind have ever gone before and I’ve only got 16.7km to go. Mentally, that’s a less bitter pill to swallow on a day where a lot of bitter pill-swallowing has probably happened for the preceding 7-9 hours.

The Kosmos 3-in-1 is run in the town of Secunda which is marginally less shit than Sasolburg. There’s this hideous something or other factory or plant which towers over Secunda, spitting flames and spewing thick black smoke over the area all day and night. As I approached on Friday evening, I didn’t know if there was an ominous Armageddon-like storm approaching, or this was just a normal Friday afternoon atmospheric condition precipitated by the something or other plant. The beauty of Secunda is, however, the Cosmos (after which the race is named). Cosmos is a beautiful flower, widespread over the high eastern plains of South Africa, where it was introduced via contaminated horsefeed imported from Mexico during the Boer War.

Not the Armageddon plant

The Beauty of Secunda

It is delicate and pretty and blossoms in the very late Summer, early Autumn. Cosmos will make anyone smile. It lines the main roads and provides a delicate and appropriate contrast to the harshness of the something or other plant spewing it’s Armageddon into Secunda’s air. The whole thing is a fitting metaphor for the race which was about to be staged in Secunda.  Beautiful, with a hint of Armageddon!

Kosmos 3-in-1 (which is a very difficult thing to type on a mobile phone) consists of a marathon, run at 6am. This is followed at 1pm by a 21.1km race which is then followed by a 10km in the evening at 5pm. Making 73.3km for the day. I’ve told you why anyone would do this.

So we set off on the marathon. I had a timing band on my wrist again. (Oh, by the way, if you want a great timing band template, let me know. I’ll send it to you. I made it myself and it’s very cool, even if I do say so myself.) The timing band was made for a marathon time of 4:18. I know. Just a month ago I had run my best marathon time in 4:39, but I had improved over all my other distances and I felt strong so I thought I’d give myself a stretch goal. My goal, however, was to run 73.3km, not run a personal best anything. At 6km, I was about 30 seconds behind my timing chart and was alone when a Standard Bank runner came running up to me. We chatted for a while and we immediately hit it off. I’m not going to tell you again how running is the ultimate leveller and why I love running so much but really, I meet the most amazing people who, with the simplest gestures, immeasurably change my life. Ricky Chauke changed my life on Saturday. He doesn’t know how and I probably don’t fully know how yet, either, but he did. He is a sub-4 hour marathon runner which puts him in the Diabolical batch for Comrades. On Saturday, however, he, like I, had his eye on the 73.3km rather than a Champion seeding group, but he asked me what my goal for the race was. Don’t die, I told him. He smiled and we chatted a bit more. We spoke about weight and how running has helped us both lose weight.

Let me show you something. This is my favourite running picture. Why? Because, not only is it a picture taken at my first 10km race (as a grown up) but it also has in it, my inspiration and the dearest friend anyone could pray for and receive (and whose birthday it is today, 11 March), Chrissie. This picture was taken in November 2012 at the start of the Soweto Marathon. I don’t know the photobomber. For reasons I won’t go into in this post, this was the race where I learned the importance of a good-quality sports bra for women.

Chrissie and me @ Soweto Marathon 2012

Chrissie and me @ Soweto Marathon 2012

Now take a look at this picture below. It was taken at Sasolburg Marathon a month ago. That’s what 11 kilograms look like people. I’ve never been a fat girl, but in the picture above I weighed 69kgs. The picture below, I weigh 58kgs. So, at Soweto Marathon I was running 10 kilometres, holding a bag of dog food. 10kgs which weren’t helping me at all. They were just along for the ride and my knees and ankles were carrying them right through that 10 kilometres. No wonder that race took us over an hour and a half.

Chrissie, Janine and me @ the Start of the Sasolburg Marathon Where I Nearly got run over by Illuminati

Chrissie, Janine and me @ the Start of the Sasolburg Marathon Where I Nearly got Run Over by Illuminati

Ricky and I chatted for a while about weight loss and how, losing weight, has magically improved our running times. Funny thing that. And when you run faster, you lose more weight and then you run faster and then …..well, you get the picture. But at least now, as I snack on these Balocco Crema Nocciola biscuits, I feel nothing. I’ll feel it next time I go out to run because my knees and my ankles will be carrying this little packet of biscuits, but for now, I feel nothing. I hate people telling me I’m getting thin. I especially hate it when overweight people tell me that. I’m getting thin because I run 60kms per week. If you run 20 kilometres per week and eat properly, you too will start to get thin. But I digress. Safe to say, Ricky and I agree that running has been great for us.

We met a man from Vhembe Running Club. He has to travel all over to get races because, in his very rural area, there aren’t many races and so to get races he has to travel. It’s a pity really because there are really great runners in these rural areas (the kind that spent their formative years walking 20 kilometres to and from school every day) and they probably don’t get enough competitive exposure and so never realise their full potential. A real pity. We were running along, Ricky and I being in our 40s and Mr Vhembe probably in his early to mid-50s. Two young upstarts came running past us and passed a silly joke about the old people. I told them to beware of the Tortoise and the Hare story. Ricky and I passed them at the 35km mark. They were sitting at a water point. Ricky was pulling me in and out of the suburban streets of Secunda which has very few high walls and even fewer electric fences, in contrast to the terrified DA suburbs of Johannesburg, including complex-ridden Midrand. I’m hoping one of the Midrand ladies with the shiny shoes reads this. I was struggling, but Ricky was going. We each had low moments, but the conversation made the kilometres fall away swiftly. I met one of my students at one of the water points and he came later to meet me further on the route. Supporters of runners, this is such an important thing for runners, to see people who love them standing on the side of the road, brimming with pride and joy at their suffering. It sounds bizarre, but it imbues a runner with love and positive energy that restores them if even for a moment and gives them the power to keep moving forward.  Thank you Coen. Your constant support on Saturday was meaningful to me on many levels.

At 38kms I told Ricky, look, I don’t think we’re going to make 4:19, but we’ll come close, but I’m happy with a sub-4:30, you can go ahead if you like. I don’t want to keep you back. He said to me, we don’t leave our POWs out here. We carry them to the end. And that’s what Ricky did with me. The last half a kilometre was a delightful meandre along a paved walkway next to the lake. One has to be very careful to not fall in the water. I chuckled each time I wound along that path considering the fact that I couldn’t use my legs to keep me afloat! And then we were finished! 4:26:13. That’s 12 minutes faster than my previous PB. That’s pretty cool, but you want to know what the coolest part of this marathon was for me? My friend. Yes, my friend, Illuminati Michelle, WON THE MARATHON! I’m not telling a word of a lie. My friend won the marathon. And she’s old, like me! I am so chuffed for her. She, like me, also achieved a personal best time for a marathon. Her time, nothing at all like mine, was 3:05:20. She came 33rd overall and was the first lady home and the first old…I mean Veteran Lady home. She and her wife, also Michelle, met me at the finish and congratulated me. Of course, Michelle had showered, napped, had breakfast, been on a game drive, done some fishing in the lake and knitted a scarf between the time she finished and the time I came in, but she still congratulated me. Megan and Justin were astounded that I had come in that soon and gave me lots of love for catching them totally unawares. 31.1kms loomed in the distance and I became grumpy. I was nervous and it came out as grumpy. I should have been dancing naked around the place! I had just improved my personal best time for a marathon by 13 minutes! I should have been elated, but I was filled with the horror of the prospect of having to repeat that exercise once more that day. What was to come? My grumpiness was lifted momentarily as I saw Michelle get her first prizes (one for 1st lady and one for 1st Vet) and I was then able to share a drink with the Michelles. I could be a cool kid too….one day. The minutes slipped away in chunks. I had run so fast and scored myself two and a half hours’ rest before the 21, but it felt like there was so much to do still before the 21. I had to swim, eat, drink, rest, sleep, change clothes, swap the timing chip from one shoe to another, sit, chat, be nice, text everyone to tell them what was happening. I’d even hoped to write this blog in the break. It all seemed too much to squeeze into just two and a half hours……

Kosmos 3-in-1

I’ve just picked up my number for tomorrow’s Kosmos 3-in-1. What is the Kosmos 3-in-1? It’s a race in Secunda in amongst the autumnal cosmos bloom. The race consists of a marathon which starts at 6am, followed by a half marathon which starts at 1pm and completed with a 10km which starts at 5pm. As i stood in the queue waiting for the entry collection to open, i realised how very far out of my league i might be on this. Uberathletes everywhere. And me! Ever bit the Slow Coach. I’m scared. Really scared. This is by far the furthest I’ll have run in my life, even over two days. Shit! At my best, I manage just a little more than that in a week. And now I have collected a shirt which boldly announces on the back, “I ran all three in one day!” Does it still count if I crawl parts of it? Do I have to give the shirt back if I don’t complete all 3? Do you think I can give the shirt back and get some money back?

Top sushi chefs do not live in Secunda. I suppose I’m a bit of a princess for wanting sushi before a big race, but its what I’ve found works the best for me. The sushi was sticky and floury. But it tasted like sushi so it must have been sushi. So now I’m going to do my pre-race ritual of putting my clothes out and washing my face and brushing my teeth and taking my 32Gi recovery shake which is always tough to get down after the mountain of sushi. Then I’ll be off to bed and I’ll be ready….I think.

Stay tuned for the next installment.