This is a clichéd example of triumph over adversity. It just
is that. You may want to read on, or you may wish to walk out.
It was going to be a struggle.I’d come in injured and had a
3 week layoff before the race. Having not finished a marathon in under 4 hours
that season, seeded in ‘F’ batch the odds were against me and as a result had
very little confidence in the day. As I stared at the runners ahead of me, to
the side of me, sucking up the grotesque body odours belching from bodies , i
wondered what on heavens earth I was doing there.
30km in, with a sudden jolt to my shin as my foot reached land fall, the thought of it all ending shot straight to the forefront of my cerebellum. Earlier on, my mind had disengaged from the task. I worked myself to the periphery of the road and looked across my shoulder to the masses pouring along like cake batter from a bowl. Like a universal planet complete with numerously orbiting moons so felt my head and its thought on race day. An injury that plagued me a month prior plagued me now. I’d decided I would bail.
Approaching the medical rescue vehicle I stood alongside the medic man. ‘What are you looking for?, he enquired. ‘I want to get into the van’, I responded. Scanning me up and down, he grimaced and said, ‘no you aren’t, you look fine’. Stunned by his response, with not much else to do but run, rabbit, run, I ran, still dis-connected, still dejected. At halfway in 5:50 I was a fox’s pelt on the bareback of a Russian Bear hunter. Icing my shin throughout the race bore me some pain relief, but it didn’t turn back the clock.
30km in, with a sudden jolt to my shin as my foot reached land fall, the thought of it all ending shot straight to the forefront of my cerebellum. Earlier on, my mind had disengaged from the task. I worked myself to the periphery of the road and looked across my shoulder to the masses pouring along like cake batter from a bowl. Like a universal planet complete with numerously orbiting moons so felt my head and its thought on race day. An injury that plagued me a month prior plagued me now. I’d decided I would bail.
Approaching the medical rescue vehicle I stood alongside the medic man. ‘What are you looking for?, he enquired. ‘I want to get into the van’, I responded. Scanning me up and down, he grimaced and said, ‘no you aren’t, you look fine’. Stunned by his response, with not much else to do but run, rabbit, run, I ran, still dis-connected, still dejected. At halfway in 5:50 I was a fox’s pelt on the bareback of a Russian Bear hunter. Icing my shin throughout the race bore me some pain relief, but it didn’t turn back the clock.
With 23km to go, i pulled over to the side of the road where
Brett stood. With my Jekyll speaking to my Hyde i’d decided i’d be comfortable
without a finish. We embraced. “Chaido, you’re going to make it in 11:56”.
Thinking some wonderous app had predicted my time, I raised an eye. Maybe there
was hope. Being reinvigorated by the news, I clucked the sticky peanut butter
sarmie off of my palette and set off. I came across an informal bus of 6 or 7,
piloted by a young black woman confident in her stride supported by her co
pilot with tambourine in hand. This cluster, i thought, was to be my motivation. I held on tight. With
baseless confidence i figured that if I sat with them my chances could be
golden. With 20 to go, i bit my lip... hard. The energy id unconsciously conserved in the
first half was finding its way to my heart, lungs n legs.
And then given the elevation on Polly’s, I lost them. A spectator on the road shouted as I walked past, ‘if you get to the top of Polly’s in the next ten minutes, you’ll finish.’
And with a strength I never knew I had, I put nose to grind stone and pushed hard rising, rising up Polly Shortts. Hitting the red timing mat, I crested her within those 10 minutes of the Polly’s Cut-off. I now had 55 minutes for the last 7km. And then, there in the fading light i saw my bus. I cast my hook and reeled them in, never losing them again. The pilot gave consistency, and tambourine man gave us rhythm. Coming into the race course, an unfamiliar sight, i was in awe. My relief, I could feel. We crossed the line with 4 minutes to spare. 11:56
I have no idea how i achieved this finish. It was the hardest fought day of all my Comrades, and now my most rewarding medal to date.
I subsequently asked Brett whether the Comrades app had predicted my finish time. ‘No app’, he said, ‘just a figure i’d come up with’.
And then given the elevation on Polly’s, I lost them. A spectator on the road shouted as I walked past, ‘if you get to the top of Polly’s in the next ten minutes, you’ll finish.’
And with a strength I never knew I had, I put nose to grind stone and pushed hard rising, rising up Polly Shortts. Hitting the red timing mat, I crested her within those 10 minutes of the Polly’s Cut-off. I now had 55 minutes for the last 7km. And then, there in the fading light i saw my bus. I cast my hook and reeled them in, never losing them again. The pilot gave consistency, and tambourine man gave us rhythm. Coming into the race course, an unfamiliar sight, i was in awe. My relief, I could feel. We crossed the line with 4 minutes to spare. 11:56
I have no idea how i achieved this finish. It was the hardest fought day of all my Comrades, and now my most rewarding medal to date.
I subsequently asked Brett whether the Comrades app had predicted my finish time. ‘No app’, he said, ‘just a figure i’d come up with’.
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