you run it cos it’s embedded in your memory like ones personality
you run it cos it’s history
you run it, cos it’s your everest,
you run it cos a nation's conscious says you can do it
you run it cos it’s instilled in you from the day you were born
you run it cos it tears at your emotion
you run it, cos you aren't a south african runner, if you dont.
the Comrades Marathon
i’ve been here before, but nothing is the same but for the red eye
reduction i’m experiencing. PMB town hall lurks, bathed in yellow light, it's
ticking clock salvador dali-melting towards the gun and the start of the 2012
Comrades Marathon.
The National Anthem and Chariots of Fire resonate against the tepid
architecture, my buried patriotism leopard crawling its way from the innards of
my emotion, revealing itself in my blubbering eyeballs, and the clanging of my
vertebrae as my spinal column strums a shivering chord.
the cannon ruptures the silence of the dark blanketing a humming Pietermaritzburg.
The run hurtles into the sticky night. The landscape the ugly sister no-one
wants to take to the ball.
The running is controlled, no sudden moves and we don’t blister the tar
with our pace. the blustery wind tears at our fleshy skin, ripping caps off
bottle tops. The ‘down-hill’ rolls upwards, and the sugar cane is sweet.
The run is at ease, i wasn’t settled. I knew what was coming.
i ran with a beaming mug, the glint off of my pearly whites attracting
thousands of screaming fans. I acknowledge the crowds, and find nothing sweeter
than orange segments, it’s juice bursting as a fun fare in my mouth.
I saw the school kids functioning in their own way, happy as a yellow
smiley face rolling on the floor not worrying about carpet burns.
Heading over Drummond, i missed Dudley Moore...totally. did he come back
with some cheap Brand to strike me. I was now on the Dark side of the moon and
this was really supposed to be me, a Rolling Stone to the finish. Alas.
Physically i was rock steady- It was my mind that had purchased a ticket
to some free-love rock fest in the raging 70's, but it was my body that wasn’t
invited.
Hillcrest, with her jaws-of-life, her school goers, extracted giggles
out of me, and i loved the tree lined plushness and then i hit it.
Berlin had one, the Palestinians should’ve just painted theirs, squash
is against it and Robert Frost Mended one.
Faster than a grand prix car stops, so did my legs.
as i watched the minutes tick over as a train station clock. 9:59 was
erased. 10:59 morphed into 11:00, the bronze train, id missed it. i was staring
into the abyss, staring at copper.
my heart hung limp from its caged cavity, my eyes overflowing as a kings
goblet, my head limp un-tethered by the puppeteer of success.
i have legs, unlike pistorius, i’m uninjured, unlike christopher reeves,
i’ve all my organs, unlike Jeff Darmer(he had more). I’d completed this epic
journey. Two sides of the coin, i had it in the bag. You scratch my Back, and i
yours. I have a trio of medals and i’ve only run two.
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need
The Russian Bear Hunter
