I never really caught onto the running thing. I started working at a runner’s magazine at the beginning of last year and figured I should invest some time in the sport. I was always a sporty kid but always feared running when training. In hockey, our coach used to plot a treacherous cross-country route which we had to loop around six times before we’d even begin with our skills. To every other sport, running seemed a punishment and I figured the runners I knew were suckers for pain and the burning sensation when running out on a cold winter’s morning.
“Drop your sticks!” my hockey coach would say and we’d know.
My team shared an audible whine and we gave in, huffing and puffing along the route. I remember coming in with the last bunch, out of breath, red in the face and doubting whether this was all worth it. At University, I tried to plot 3km runs around my residence and digs but I would eventually care more about my running playlist than anything else. My discipline also wavered. When I joined a running publication in 2012, I figured I might as well try running further for longer. There was a definite group that I did not know before. The runner – a character tuned into everything running. Weekend war stories consisted of the latest marathon in the area, the PB’s, gear, new shoes and the gossip surrounding club members and the like.
Later that year, the magazine sent me down to Durban to cover the Comrades Marathon – the 89km stinger of an ultra. I knew little of the race. I knew it was 89km and that my dad had conquered the route three times in the late 80’s with an impressive 9:30 finish. I also knew SABC covered race days and I knew about those small Russian twins who kept dominating the field. I knew Bruce Fordyce because he was a legend of the sport. It stopped there. The pivotal highlights on the route were mysteries; the hills seemed monumental and the history was grand. I did not know what medal meant what. It all seemed a new world to me but one I knew I wanted to get to know in my new-born career.
In June 2012, I had the privilege of sitting on one of two media trucks that would follow the leading men of the race before taking snaps at the finish line. I remember the icy slaps of a Pietermaritzburg morning and the naivety I carried on a truck beside seasoned journos who mouthed off names I should’ve been familiar with. Luckily the running journos seemed to accept that I was the “new kid” on the block and I jotted down the race’s real heroes. Steven Muzhingi seemed strong. Then I jotted down Ichanga, the atmosphere of Pinetown and the way the winner could never be known until the last 10km or so.
The finish was something different and I got to experience it again in 2013. There is no other event in the country, or world, that is as emotional as crossing the finish at Comrades – and I don’t even run the race! Camera in hand, there is a fumble for the faces who cry and grin when they trudge across the mat. For many, its months and months of had work fully rewarded. There is also a magical camaraderie that is felt. Strangers hug at the finish after their few hours motivating each other while young and old high-five in celebration. There’s nothing like it. There won’t be anything like it in the sporting world. It may just be my second year covering the race but I have no doubt that each year might be better. As a photographer, there is nothing more rewarding than capturing the relief. There is a great deal of respect I carry for every Comrades runner. So much so that I would hire a Comrades finisher above anybody else. The race seems deemed for a CV skill. It is a mad journey and one that carries more mental preparation than it does physical. As many a journo and runner has told me, if one does not have the heart and motivation in the last 20km of the race, their run will fall, their legs will give in.
While I am no Comrades runner, I have definitely found running to harness a new energy in me and others. You can see it as a turn for your health. I see it as a turn for one’s attitude. While I grapple in 10km races, I still need the mental edge to finish. Running slowly builds confidence and while some finish in 6 hours or just before the 12-hour cut-off, everyone seems a winner. The sport gives us a personal journey to accomplish and there’s nothing more satisfying than mentally ticking off a goal.
Some snaps from Comrades 2013:
afterkick 