Yeti's Race Reports: History

Last updated: 2023-01-09

Notice: © 2013 to 2023, Chris R. Burger. This document may be reproduced as required for personal use, and may be freely referenced from other Websites. However, publication elsewhere, in full or in part, requires express prior written permission from the author, and strict adherence to reference guidelines.

Chris R. Burger is a researcher, engineer, pilot and former road safety professional who is valiantly trying to return to normality after severing all his left knee ligaments in a 2014 running accident. He regularly runs road races in Gauteng North, near Pretoria, South Africa. He writes under the name of Yeti, after the Abominably Slow Man. He loves to record his experiences and share them with others, but could no longer bear the aspersions of illiteracy cast by the Agapé Athletics Club newsletter's MSWord Auto-Correct. On this page, text is written in a text editor without a spell-checker, and all errors are entirely the author's own doing. However, the slow running is obviously all attributable to the altitude (about 1500 m) and his age (58).


This file contains races from previous years, excluding 2023. Most recent races are first; older races are listed in reverse order. I started this collection late in 2016, and it is essentially complete from that date. Older reports are few and far between, and have now all been added to the list.

More recent races can be seen here.

  • 2022 races: 2022-10 2022-08 2022-07 2022-06 2022-05 2022-04 2022-03 2022-02 2022-01
  • 2021 races: 2021-12 2021-11 2021-10 2021-09 2021-08 2021-05
  • 2020 races: 2020-05 2020-03 2020-02 2020-01
  • 2019 races: 2019-12 2019-11 2019-10 2019-09 2019-08 2019-07 2019-06 2019-05 2019-04 2019-03 2019-02 2019-01
  • 2018 races: 2018-12 2018-11 2018-10 2018-09 2018-08 2018-07 2018-06 2018-05 2018-02 2018-01
  • 2017 races: 2017-12 2017-10 2017-09 2017-08 2017-07 2017-06 2017-05 2017-04 2017-03 2017-02 2017-01
  • 2016 races
  • 2015 races
  • 2013 races

    Springs Parkrun, Sunday 2023-01-01 at 08:00

    Goal: A Parkrun on a Sunday. Under 30 minutes would be nice.

    With no Parkruns on Christmas day, we had to make use of this New Year's Day to notch up a Parkrun on a Sunday. The next opportunity won't happen until mid-2025. I found something like six undone Parkruns in Gauteng that would be offered on this day, and picked Springs. Although another one would be closer, Springs had the advantage that Brakpan was close by, making it possible to take action if something went wrong with the arrangements. I was somewhat apprehensive, as I have a cracked rib or two and have done very little running since Comrades, but even a lousy time would be better than no Parkrun at all.

    Despite some delays and a Waze-induced detour, we arrived around 07:30. I wrapped my rib cage with a stretch bandage, before Laurens and I warmed up for around 3 km. Alet and Hanri waited at the start. Along the route, we found a blonde with two pony tails. Pippy had a big dog on a leash. She greeted us in a high-pitched heavy Slavic accent. Laurens took pity on a one-eyed stray dog, and left a message on the owner's phone to the effect that Sam was in that park. Several minutes later, we passed Pippy again. She enquired whether we'd seen a white dog. We directed her straight to Sam.

    The run director used an intermittent PA system to make a series of announcements. We set off about two minutes late. As usual, a bunch of schoolkids surged ahead. We passed Pippy, loading Sam into a car. I settled into a slightly uncomfortable pace, passing 1 km in 5:23, in 21st place. Laurens was about a minute behind, with Hanri perhaps half a minute behind him. I resolved to slow down slightly, walking occasionally. I passed Pippy along the route. She again had the big dog with her. A woman wearing a bright-orange top cruised past, making her way up the field ahead. On the second lap, I passed Pippy again. This time, there was no dog. There was some jostling for position, and when I passed the next marker at 4 km, I was in 23rd place. I finished reasonably strongly in about 27:40, surprised to be handed number 21. I was pleasantly surprised, as I did not expect to be able to maintain 5:32 pace in my current state of injury and lack of training. It did not escape my notice, though, that the schoolkids had not cracked this time. Obviously the East Rand schoolkids are made of sterner stuff.

    Ms Orange lavished the traditional "Well done!" on me. It struck me as slightly patronising, given the consummate ease with which she had beaten me. We struck up a conversation. She had done another Parkrun the previous day, which included some steep downhill trail running, and was rather the worse for wear. Laurens finished about a minute behind me, with Hanri perhaps half a minute behind. Pippy arrived somewhat later, sans dog. Alet sauntered home much later, having struck up a conversation with a local. She had been regaled with an inspiring tale of despondency turned around by exposure to Parkrun and a new circle of friends. We headed home, stopping for a hearty breakfast along the way.

    I still need a Parkrun with "C" to spell my name. With the establishment of the Carnival City event, it is now pretty easy, but I still fancy the Cannibals Cave Parkrun on my CV. Perhaps I'll find an excuse to make the drive, real soon.

    The Good: A rare opportunity to catch a Sunday Parkrun.

    The Bad: Only two distance markers.

    The Ugly: A cracked rib does not make a Parkrun a lot of fun.

    Back to Index

    2022 Races

    Ruimsig Parkrun, Saturday 2022-10-22 at 08:00

    Goal: A Parkrun starting with "R". Under 30 minutes would be nice.

    Running has taken a back seat since Comrades. In the past two months, Iíve only run 25 km. Clearly, I havenít been able to resume a reasonable routine. This week, something happened that helped: I discovered that the Cannibals Cave Parkrun has resumed after the flood damage. Iím not sure if the flood damage has been repaired, or whether they have just defined a new route. Apart from the mystique of that name, I also only need a "C" and yet another "R" to spell my name. As Cannibals Cave is a long drive and would require an overnight stop, I wanted to get the "R" out of the way. There were two options; Red Star and Ruimsig. I accordingly invited Hanri, Laurens and Alet. Hanri and Laurens quickly declined, so I collected Alet at 06:40 to arrive at 07:30. As my tummy was playing games with me, a quick visit to the public amenities preceded my warmup. I joined the crowd just as the briefing started. In an all-time first, I witnessed a mass aerobics session during the briefing, after which we started exactly on time.

    As is often the case, a bunch of schoolkids surged ahead. I assumed Iíd soon catch them. Only about half of those ahead were adults. I settled into twelfth place. Counter to expectation, only one child cracked around the 2 km mark. We climbed up a hill, over a rough trail with loose stones and deep ruts. We soon careened downhill towards a runway. The bunch gradually stretched out with a youngster ahead of me and a bright yellow shirt behind. The youngster started intermittently walking. Each time I caught up to him, he would start running again. He gradually caught up with a young girl, likewise walking intermittently. Around the 4 km mark, I finally managed to overtake the youngster and the girl. I was taking strain, regularly walking and feeling decidedly sorry for myself with a combination of general malaise and acutely sore legs. Near the finish, we found a T junction without directions. We hesitated briefly, then turned right towards the finish. The youngster surged ahead, and I finished before the girl. I was in ninth place, in just under 27 minutes. Not a great time, but probably commensurate with my current state.

    Letís hope this Parkrun provides the incentive to resume a regular running schedule. The next project is to visit Cannibals Cave. Not only will it provide me with the "C" I need, but it will be my 49th Parkrun and my 48th venue. The effciency of completing 48 venues without earning that dreaded T-shirt appeals to me, especially as in the process I managed to accumulate Events 1 to 10 and a Parkrun in every month of the year.

    The Good: Successfully paving the way for my final project: Cannibals Cave.

    The Bad: No distance markers.

    The Ugly: The painÖ

    Back to Index

    Comrades Marathon, Sunday 2022-08-28 at 05:30

    Goal: Finish. A bronze medal would be even better.

    I approached this race with great apprehension. A 90 km race is daunting under any circumstances. Add to it the demands of the Down Run, and it becomes worse. The Up Run is probably more demanding physically, but the Down seems more likely to cause lasting damage. I spent months reinforcing the necessary muscle groups, running regularly and honing my skills. I completed around 1150 km since early March. Based on my most recent half-marathon time, I could probably aim for a 10 hour finish. Based on my qualifying marathon time, I'd be lucky to finish. Total running volume was adequate, but the long-distance stuff was a little light. I was aiming for 11:30, leaving some room for a mishap but not overtaxing myself with too fast a finish. However, in the weeks before I gradually succumbed to peer pressure, finally deciding to join Hanri and Laurens for an attempt on a bronze medal with a sub-11:00 finish.

    The taper period had not gone as planned. Although the training volume decreased, my calves were still slightly sore and stiff, just like they had been during the peak training weeks. I was running comfortably, but nowhere near as idillic as it had been for past attempts. On Friday night, I discovered that I was not eligible for a back-to-back medal. Their wording is decidedly ambiguous. I tried to phone the office on Saturday, but there was no way to communicate with the Association. I decided to leave the discussions for later, if and when it became necessary.

    We were repeatedly warned about serious traffic on the road from Durban to the start, so we left at an unearthly 03:30. Laurens, Alet and I arrived in Pietermaritzburg with almost an hour to spare. We stopped over at a garage and used the public toilets. I tried to snatch some sleep, but the restless environment didn't help. I discovered that I'd left my sports drink at home. We finally arrived at the start venue around 05:10. The gates had already opened. We could not find Hanri. The bunch gradually surged forward while we had to endure the horrible synthesizer music and the bottled cock's crow. We crossed the start line after about five minutes and by seven minutes we were able to run. It was still dark, and the streetlights offered little relief in the endless mass of bodies. Soon after the 88 km sign, Laurens started walking. I walked briefly, then resumed my jogging. I didn't see Laurens again. Around 86 km, Hanri called me from behind. I must have passed her, but neither of us had noticed. We briefly ran together, then got separated again. I saw my clubmates Elma and Harry, with very few other familiar faces. A girl with pink plaits ran in front of me. I assumed it was Pippi, but she wasn't wearing long stockings. The 11 hour bus made a nuisance of itself, often disrupting my walk-run rhythm. I saw two guys named Fabio and Dario. I just had to try out my Italian on them. Fabio was doing his first Comrades, in the over-60 age group. He explained how he had only arrived in the country two years ago. I think. I maintained the planned pace at 85 and 80 km, but at 75 I had gained a minute or two. I reined myself in, but the gap kept increasing. We passed the highest point at Umlaas Road. The doldrums at Harrison Flats went by more or less as planned. Coming down towards Drummond and the "half-way" mark, I felt the first inkling of what the descent would do to our legs. I was breathing easy and felt quite relaxed, though. The worst worry was the heel chafing. It felt like serious blisters were forming on the medial side of both heels. I piled generous doses of Vaseline into my shoes on three occasions. By the time I reached Drummond, every step on my left foot resulted in stabbing pain, like stepping into a broken bottle. I resolved to keep going undaunted.

    I visited the CSIR tent at Drummond, then cruised on toward Botha's Hill. I was concentrating on a 5+1 survival strategy through Botha's Hill, frantically trying to calculate my pace with the help of my pace chart. I was blissfully unaware of my surroundings. Suddenly, I noticed a tall girl waving at me. Tall girls always get my attention. It was Kayla, with the Cloete family. I was amazed that they had caught my eye in my distracted state.

    I visited the CSIR tent at Winston Park. My progress was still reasonably according to plan, but I was taking strain. My left knee, my right glute, my hamstrings and to a lesser extent my calves were complaining loudly. I was counting down the distance to where Alet and the Cloetes would be waiting, as I could take a sip of my favourite black Stoney. I suppose I was hoping that it would miraculously restore my fortunes. I found them as expected, within a minute of the agreed time. I gulped down some Stoney and grabbed my sports drink. As I resumed running, Laurens arrived. We chatted briefly, and I pursued him for some distance. The Stoney didn't miraculously revive my fortunes. I was hurting badly. It was too early to be hurting this badly. Accordingly, I turned around at the 28 km mark and walked back to where I had left my supporters. Hanri passed me with another Phobians runner. She called me to join them. I declined. My supporters were no longer there. I phoned them and got some suspect directions. I followed the directions, then saw them in a completely different place. I tried to catch up, but could not. Being unable to catch two ladies of a certain age taking a leisurely stroll is not an ego trip for someone who is supposed to be a conditioned athlete! I eventually caught them just before the Kloof grandstand, passing the scanners in the process. I ambled home and collapsed into an easy chair. My pulse was 72, confirming that my system was still in good shape. Just these crummy legs.

    I took a cold bath, followed by a hot bath with Epsom salts, as instructed by Hanri. Too soon it was time to leave, to see Laurens and Hanri finish. We drove downtown. For about 5 km, we were passing runners running parallel to us. I saw many familiar runners. Near the stadium, we were hopelessly stuck in traffic. We were moving at much less than walking pace. Elma cruised past us, on her way to a strong bronze finish. Eventually, we realised that we would never get there on time. I suggested that my passengers should walk, while I would stop right there and wave as my erstwhile companions passed. I parked high up on an embankment, to keep my car away from the traffic. By the roadside, a traffic official tapped me on the shoulder, wanting to know where I had parked. I pointed to my car. She asked me to move it. I explained the situation, begging her indulgence until my companions were past. She agreed that she would ask her boss. I saw her talking on the radio, but she did not get back to me. I watched hundreds of runners passing, not more than 1,5 km from the finish. Two 70-plus women sailed past, one in time to make the bronze medal cutoff. That really put my performance into perspective. Pippi came sailing past. She looked grim and determined, moving deliberately forward. Despite missing the bronze mark, she was definitely finishing strongly. Harry greeted me. He was almost home and dry. Many of the passers-by had been running with me hours before. Some noticed me and asked what I was doing there. They looked suitably sympathetic, and suitably envious. The 11 hour bus, the one that had been such a nuisance, passed too late to make 11 hours. Hanri passed, just in time to make 11:30. Laurens passed about three minutes later.

    I got into my car and rejoined the traffic. Using directions from the traffic official, I ended up on the opposite side of the stadium. I found a little lane with too many parked cars. I headed down it. A would-be parking attendant tried to solicit money. When I declined, he smashed into my left mirror. I took a picture of him, and he ran off. I found parking near the badminton hall. A police warrant officer told me to climb through a hole in the fence and then cross the bridge to the stadium. I was amused at the nature of the official advice. I left my car there and ambled along to the stadium. I waited and waited and waited, while trying to communicate with Laurens and Alet. A young man asked me to phone his telephone, which had been grabbed by a group of hoodlums pretending to be a security detail. The phone was not being answered. I directed him to the police vehicle. Eventually, Alet called me. We had a hard time agreeing where to meet. After several attempts, I figured out where they were. I walked there and gestured to them which way to go. Due to chaotic access arrangements to the stadium, we were on different levels. We eventually met, climbed through the hole in the fence and made our way to the car. We made good progress away from the stadium, eventually abandoning the GPS directions. It was a mistake. Fields Hill was snarled up, and we crawled along it for close to half an hour. It took longer to climb the hill than the runners had taken to come down it earlier in the day. It was raining now, and altogether miserable. We ordered take-away food and made our way home. After dinner, I answered a few more SMS enquiries and tucked into bed early.

    After breakfast, we loaded the car and departed at 10:00 sharp. We collected Hanri and made our way home. We made two stops, one to have lunch. At both stops, there were dozens of people walking like penguins. Many sported identical light purple shirts. The atmosphere was pretty festive. After dropping off Hanri and Laurens, we arrived at Alet's home after 18:00. I was ready to head home and get some sleep, but I just had to finish this story first.

    I'm definitely pleased that I was there to see Hanri complete her first Comrades. It's been a long process. Laurens completed his ninth medal, placing him well to collect his green number next year. And I have proven conclusively that I am not Comrades material.

    We'll see what happens next. I would very much like to do some better times over shorter distances. Half marathons appeal to me. Maybe I'll even be talked into a marathon or two. I might even be lured into some serious triathlons, maybe even Ironman. But this ultra-marathon madness is definitely not for me.

    The Good: I completed 62 km of the race—66 if you include the walk home—with no after-effects but couple of blisters. Watching Hanri finish her first Comrades after many moons of joint preparation.

    The Bad: Not completing the Down Run as I was hoping to.

    The Ugly: Finally confirming that I'm not distance running material.

    Back to Index

    Thousand Hills Parkrun, Saturday 2022-08-27 at 08:00

    Goal: Watch people suffer. Give Alet a chance to do a parkrun with a "T".

    We're in KZN for Comrades. Several local Parkruns offered Laurens and Alet counters, specifically some initial letters to spell their names. However, the Thousand Hills Parkrun, supposedly the hardest in the world, was close by. I've done it before, so I'm not even tempted to tackle this route. Laurens decided to stay in bed. We arrived around 07:35, much too early as Alet wasn't planning to warm up. I stood around, talking to the locals. Several of them felt that my office attire was inappropriate, specifically my shoes. I played the game, telling them that I was preserving my running shoes for the next day. They were visibly shocked. There was a first-timer briefing, followed by a normal race briefing. We started exactly on time. I ran in fifth place or so, with my briefcase comfortably under my arm. After a few hundred metres, I slipped in behind a parked car and waited for all the runners to pass before ambling back to the start. I settled down near the finish. The first finisher did not arrive until 25 minutes had passed. The hilly terrain clearly limited what was possible. My previous time of almost 35 minutes would have earned me 11th place of 83 finishers.

    Alet finished in just over an hour in 63rd place. Her companions during the Parkrun were also there for Comrades, albeit as supporters. We chatted for a few minutes before setting off toward the Comrades Wall of Honour. I wanted to see my brick, which I'd commissioned after my Comrades finish. I started scanning from newest to older, while Alet did the same thing behind me. I saw a few familiar names, but never found my own brick. Alet did—I had actually missed it despite my best efforts. We took a few suitably cheesy pictures before returning to Kloof for some shopping and some final race preparations.

    The Good: Not having to do the hardest Parkrun in the world. Watching Alet add a new letter to her collection. Finally seeing my brick in the Wall of Honour.

    The Bad: Sitting out while everyone else went Parkrunning.

    The Ugly: Tomorrow looms...

    Back to Index

    Arrow Rest Parkrun, Saturday 2022-08-06 at 08:00

    Goal: A Parkrun event number 10, completing the full series from 1 to 10. Get away as soon as possible for a busy day.

    My Comrades preparation is winding down, with only three weeks to the big day. The Arrow Rest Parkrun's event number 10 was on the cards, allowing Alet and I to complete a full house from 1 to 10. Laurens withdrew due to work pressure. Vicky pulled out at the last moment. I had other commitments, collecting some workers for a project at the airport on my way to the Parkrun. Alet rounded up Thea at short notice. I arrived around 07:40 and took a short warmup run. Alet arrived as I completed my warmup. There was a definite nip in the air.

    The announcements were made without the benefit of a microphone. I had seen the route on the Web. It was a nested loop with many kinks. We started on time, and I found myself in the unusual situation of being right in front. The A team must have taken the day off. A youngster ran shoulder to shoulder with me on a two-track path. I asked if he knew the route. He said that he'd never run it before, but that it was simple. I decided to let him lead, following close behind.

    1 km came at 04:30, slightly too fast. We turned at the lowest end of the property, climbing back towards the start. 2 km came just before 09:30, about right. We meandered through a forest on sandy pathways. Around the 3 km mark, the youngster gradually started leaving me behind. There were one or two turns without clear indications. I was happy to have marshals within shouting distance. The last km or so was uphill. I had promised my workers that I'd finish around 25 minutes. The winner finished around 24:44, and I around 25:10. The next runner was about half a minute behind me. I was amazed. My relatively slow time has never earned me such a good placing before!

    After ingesting a complimentary pancake, I was on the road by 08:30. The first chore for the day was done and dusted!

    The Good: Relatively flat course with great distance markers. Completing a full set of event numbers from 1 to 10.

    The Bad: Rather difficult surface, with lots of sand.

    The Ugly: Discovering in the results that the winner has yet to see his 18th birthday!

    Back to Index

    Nkodima Development Race 4 km, 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2022-07-23 at 07:00

    Goal: A half marathon under two hours, remaining intact for the next week's training.

    Another exceptionally hectic week threatened to undermine my weekly running quota. We are now winding down before Comrades, with less than seven weeks to go. On Friday night, it became evident that my Saturday morning commitment was not going to keep me tied up, so I allowed Laurens to talk me into a half marathon. I was somewhat unhappy to discover that the entry fee was R 200, an all-time record for a half marathon. Laurens collected me from work at 05:43, and we arrived at the Mzansi Resorts (sic) at 06:30. Not many runners were around. It was bitterly cold, and I saw only one other runner sporting a vest without layered clothing, like I was. I looked for a public toilet, and had to walk several hundred metres to the main building of what was once the Morula Sun casino. It is basically derelict. I queued for several minutes before getting my turn in a very, very grimy toilet. Halfway through proceedings, I suddenly noticed that there was no toilet paper. This was going to be an interesting day. Once back in the main bathroom, I discovered that there was no soap either. Arghhh. Fortunately, there were a few drops of soap in the handicapped bathroom.

    The next surprise was that the start was almost 1 km away. No-one knew exactly where or exactly how far, so we started walking. We soon heard the announcer's voice up ahead, and found the start well down the road. The timekeeper was nowhere to be found. Fortunately, the announcer had a sense of urgency, and made some phone calls. Soon enough, the timekeeper arrived. The announcer coaxed the officials into action, and we started only five minutes late. We would run two clockwise laps on urban roads, with lots of traffic. Mostly, the road shoulder was wide enough and the potholes were easily avoided. There were no distance markers, but the distances were clearly painted on the road surface. Due to the small field, perhaps 200 runners, we were soon running in single file, with the spacing gradually increasing until I could see well ahead. I maintained a constant pace of 5:20/km. I wondered if I could keep it up to the end, but I was comfortable and easily aerobic. The route was flattish, with only one nagging climb from a bridge crossing on the far side. A couple from Midrand passed me and greeted enthusiastically. I overtook a runner from A4A, who asked me if I was doing two laps. Bystanders waved and shouted, and passing taxis seemed not to realise that a hooter is a safety device. I had my first gel at 7 km. I cruised past 10 km at just under 54 minutes. By now, I was running completely alone. The Midrand couple ran perhaps 300 m ahead, with the A4S runner perhaps the same distance behind. With only a stopwatch and the painted distances, I was able to maintain my pace within a few seconds, all the way to the 18 km mark. I was pleasantly surprised. Despite my lack of long-distance training, at least I'm not completely lame. Beyond this point, I did some regular walking, using a 5+1 survival strategy with lampposts. I resolved to break 1:54. The last 3 km went by in 16 minutes, and I finished in 1:53:44. Unfortunately, the stopwatch next to the finish line showed more than a minute more. An official asked my name. I was apparently the second Master. Maybe some prize money would make up for the exorbitant entry fee!

    I was tired, and looked for a place to sit in the shade and watch the finishers. Laurens cruised home in just under 2:00 (2:01 on the display). They didn't take his name. We waited for the prizegiving. It took almost forever. I did some prompting to expedite matters. The Midrand couple won the Masters divisions, both male and female. At least I found some consolation in the fact that they are the better part of a decade younger than I am. We managed to leave around 09:30. I was very happy. It was my best half marathon time since The Flu, and I managed to do it without causing myself undue damage. My left knee was a little fragile at times, but I remained aerobic into the last km with no undue muscle strain.

    The Good: A very comfortable sub-two half marathon. Winning some prize money for only the second time ever.

    The Bad: R 200 entry fee. The derelict venue, with no toilet paper and no soap.

    The Ugly: Having to write my bank account number on a dog-eared sheet of paper for my prize money. Let's hope that it's less risky than it seems!

    Back to Index

    Umhlanga Parkrun, Saturday 2022-07-16 at 08:00

    Goal: A Parkrun with "U". Break 24 minutes if possible. Cover some distance.

    This weekís speedwork went unexpectedly well. I had to be in KZN over the weekend due to family commitments, missing the Magnolia long run, so I decided to use the opportunity to try a fast Parkrun. Iíve broken 25 minutes seven times, but 24 minutes has remained an elusive target. Perhaps I could use the opportunity to fix that omission, while also accumulating credit for a Parkrun starting with "U".

    Alet and I left my sisterís place on schedule at 05:43, collecting Yolande on the way to arrive at Umhlanga around 07:35. We had fun listening to the GPS butcher the local names. "E-M-D-Loti" was my personal favourite. I took a 2 km jog to warm up. Unfortunately, the temperature was already in the mid-teens, definitely higher than ideal. The announcements were a bit tedious. The race director screamed into the microphone, but even though the public address speakers displayed flashing lights, they were of little help to overcome the constant buzz of conversation in the crowd. We set off about one minute late, northbound on the promenade. Many other walkers and joggers were on the path, most keeping left and allowing the Parkrunners past. I found myself surrounded by red T-shirts, apparently belonging to youngsters from a soccer club. As usual, there were numerous young kids that started too fast and soon slipped behind.

    We looped onto short grass at the northern end of the course before doubling back to the start. I passed Alet and Yolande about halfway. They cheered as I passed. I wondered whether the tone of sarcasm was only my imagination. There were no distance markers, and I had trouble judging my pace. As is always the case during intense training weeks, my calves and my left knee were slightly sore, but my breathing was easy. I suppose there is something to be said for the oxygen-rich sea air. I turned around at the south end and tried to keep up the pace. I had to walk occasionally as a respite, but managed to finish after a short, steep uphill in about 23:44. It took me a few minutes to regain my wits. By the time I enquired, they had handed out number 35. I was fairly certain that Iíd finished in the first 30—satisfactory in the light of the typical field of over 350 finishers. I chatted to a woman who had finished well before me. She was very relaxed. Clearly, genes were at play, not dogged determination!

    Not much came of my post-Parkrun running plans. I was thoroughly spent. I walked back along the trail, reading the plaques near all the tourist traps and finding Alet and Yolande around the 3,5 km mark. I coaxed Alet into a jog, and paced her to the finish. She managed to break 50 minutes by just a few seconds. Yolande had been selling Parkrun tourism to her companions, so I spent a few minutes briefing them about potential destinations near their house in Gauteng.

    Alet and I walked on the beach for a while, then joined Yolande in a local hangout before heading off for some shopping and then heading home. It was a substantial drive for just 5 km of running, but I was happy. A new Personal Best and a "U"—not a complete waste of time! I was a little sad that I managed to accumulate so little distance. I was going to have to make up for the shortfall the next day (Sunday) in hilly terrain, alone. Serves me right!

    The Good: Flat course with a good surface. Lots of oxygen to breathe. Breaking 24 minutes and exceeding a 65% age grading!

    The Bad: No distance markers. Too many participants for my liking. Not enough distance—tomorrow should have been a rest day!

    The Ugly: Lots of pedestrians having trouble with this "keep left" thing.

    Back to Index

    Kleinplaas Parkrun, Saturday 2022-06-18 at 08:00

    Goal: Parkrun #7. Cover some distance.

    Laurens and Hanri are planning a marathon tomorrow, so Alet and I set off alone at 05:30. After a series of icy road warnings from my car and a GPS-induced detour or two, we arrived at the venue around 07:30. The temperature indicated -1°C. Someone waved at me from a parked car. I could not identify the occupants, but I returned the wave. I set off for a 3 km warmup run. Several volunteers made snide remarks about my T-shirt and shorts. By the time I arrived back at the start, the announcements were in full swing. Obviously, Potchefstroom felt no need for English announcements. I noticed Pieter in the start lineup. He confirmed that he had waved from the car. We started exactly on time. I settled into fifth place, moving up to fourth around the 1 km mark. The pace was a steady 4:45/km at this point. I reminded myself not to overdo things. The runner behind me lagged further and further behind. I focused on the runner ahead, gradually catching up. We meandered through a field, following clear directions. The surface was a little unsteady, with turf accumulating on my soles. I got taller and taller as I ran. Segments of the course were waterlogged around the edges. It was clear to me why several events had been cancelled due to rain. To my amazement, I saw Pieter well behind me.

    I entered the second lap at about 12:10. I could definitely feel the fatigue, and my breathing was shortening. A pebble started niggling below my right foot bridge. I walked occasionally, trying desperately to keep up the pace. I was overtaking many walkers. Some followed the race director's directions to keep left, while others were much harder to pass. I caught number 3. We ran together for a while. I couldn't keep it up, and with around 1 km to go he slowly opened up a gap ahead of me. The pebble had grown to a full-fledged stone. I considered stopping to remove it from my shoe, but decided to continue. The runner behind was not catching up. I lapped an elderly runner festooned with numerous embroidered names of Parkrun venues—obviously not a practical hobby for a serious Parkrun tourist. The stone now felt suitable for a cornerstone. I reminded myself to keep it, just in case I wanted to erect a big building one day. I finished around 24:40, in fourth place.

    I caught my breath for a few minutes, then started on another lap. I caught Alet in the first km, admonishing her to speed up. She explained that she was following a walk-run strategy. I had to take the "run" part on faith. I passed a man with an artificial leg. He was walking briskly. When I finished, Pieter had disappeared. I phoned him. He had already returned to the town with his family. He mentioned that I was now the record holder for my age group, having beaten the previous record by about half a minute. Pieter had completed a 120 km cycle ride the previous day, and his legs hadn't fully recovered. Alet finished around 48 minutes. We tackled the road home via Parys and Hartbeespoort for some aviation-related chores.

    With event number 7 in the bag, only number 10 eludes me. We're hoping to rectify that omission in a fortnight's time. I also reached the midpoint of the international Parkrun tourist list, with 43 venues. The Parkrun project is finally nearing completion!

    The Good: New Parkrun event in the bag. Reaching the middle of the international Parkrun tourist list. Breaking 25 minutes again.

    The Bad: Only one distance marker (at 1 and 3,5 km). Waterlogged sections on the track, casting doubt on the venue's sustainability in the rainy season.

    The Ugly: Only 11 km on the clock. I'll have to do 21 km tomorrow to complete my weekly quota!

    Back to Index

    Sasolburg Stadium Parkrun, Saturday 2022-06-11 at 08:00

    Goal: Parkrun #9. Cover some distance.

    We've been watching all the newly-established Parkruns to identify event numbers 7, 9 and 10. Recently, several Parkruns have been disrupted, making the sequence harder to follow. This Saturday, it looked like we could complete Number 9 in Sasolburg. Laurens chickened out during the week. Ken is out of town. Vicky was unreachable. Accordingly, Alet and I left Pretoria at 06:00. After a drive that included dense fog near the Vaal river and several icing warnings from my car, we arrived at the stadium at 07:25. I took a 3 km run to warm up. The announcements took quite a while, being tweetalig and all, and we started about a minute late. I soon settled into eighth place, with a tall young blonde in front of me and a grey li'l ol' lady behind. I passed a marker showing "1" at 4:15. I didn't think it was really at 1 km, but if it was, I'd probably set myself up for spectacular failure.

    The route is pretty flat and fresly graded in places. The surface was uneven in places, mostly due to tyre ruts. I walked occasionally to catch my breath. We completed a figure of eight course and then entered a second lap. During one of my walks, the li'l old lady caught up with me. We chatted for a while, but halfway through the second lap she left me behind. As we entered the second loop of the figure of eight, with me hot on her heels, she turned left to the finish. I thought we still had to complete the other loop. I asked an official. On his directions, I turned back and finished. I wasted half a minute due to the detour, but fortunately the young man behind me had not overtaken me. I finished in ninth place in something like 24:30. The tall blonde was just ahead of the li'l ol' lady, but she did not have a bar code. At least she won't show up in the official results...

    After catching my breath, I retraced the route with two other runners. I saw Alet ahead, just entering the second lap. She was aiming to finish in under 45 minutes. I didn't think she was going to make it. I finished the loop, stretching on a staircase. To my amazement, I saw Alet finishing in just under 45 minutes. On the way to the car, I passed the li'l ol' lady. I bemoaned my fate, being beaten by a li'l ol' lady. She indignantly retorted that she'd initially been unable to overtake me when I was walking. We'd clearly caused a lot of mutual grief! The fog had lifted, so the trip home was uneventful and we made it home as planned to tackle the day's duties.

    The Good: Alet's personal best. My best time for the year. Just two first-ten Parkruns to go.

    The Bad: No distance markers. Only 10 km on the clock. The detour that cost me my all-time best Parkrun.

    The Ugly: Being soundly beaten by a grey li'l ol' lady.

    PS: I felt a little better when I learned that the li'l ol' lady is a former world champion masters' athlete...

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    Race of Hope 5/10/21 km, Grove, Saturday 2022-05-21 at 07:00

    Goal: Complete 60 km for the week.

    Anyone with a hope of a Comrades finish would want to be doing at least 60 km per week at this stage. With daylight shrinking relentlessly, it has been difficult to fit in respectable distance during the week. Accordingly, I was happy when Laurens told me about a half marathon this weekend. I decided to park at Alet's house, run 5 km to the venue, run the half marathon and then run back to my car. I left home at 05:50, ran from Alet's at 06:00 and arrived in darkness with plenty of time to enter and amble down to the start. The weather was perfect, with a low cloudbase but no rain. When I left Alet's house, the temperature had been 9°C. The start bunch was dense, with probably less than 10% wearing masks.

    We started on time. Laurens and I were about one-fifth from the front. As is always the case with mixed starts, most of the slooooooooooow runners absolutely had to start in the front row. The bunch didn't thin out for at least 10 minutes. I passed the 3 km marker at 18 minutes, so everything was on track. Mandy came past, wearing Phobians kit. I asked her if she was collecting colours from every club in Pretoria. I tried to maintain a 6:00/km pace, but gradually gained time. A car emerged from a driveway. A particularly tall runner ran in front of the car, causing the driver to brake hard and blocking several of us in the process. The tall runner, who was wearing his race number on his back, spouted forth about how stupid the driver was. I couldn't help but think of Dunning and Kruger. We were now passing numerous 5 km participants, who were mostly walking. About half the field peeled off to the finish, while the rest of us continued for the second lap. The tall rocket scientist also continued on the second lap, even though his number clearly indicated that he had entered for 10 km.

    10 km came at 57 minutes. The loop came before 11 km. I saw Melani, Willie and Mandy ahead of me and Laurens behind. He made a snide remark about me heading for two hours. The thought had crossed my mind. At that rate, it would be a close thing. My left knee was hurting slightly, but I kept pushing. I passed Mandy and her friend near the 17 km mark, exchanging pleasantries about how humiliating it was to be passed by such an old guy. The last 3 km stretch was uphill. I had to maintain a 5:20/km pace to break two hours. It was not to be. I had to walk a few times. As I ran up the ramp, I spotted Karen watching from the sidelines. I finished under 2:01. Our Club tent was nowhere to be seen, so I headed home. I took a detour via the race route to do some cleaning up. Pretty soon, I passed the point where it was constructive. Trying to break two hours didn't leave enough reserve to run all the way back to my car. I stopped at Marina's house, trying to solicit help with a phone call. After giving up, I encountered a friendly walker with a phone. She called Alet, and I proceeded up the hill feeling very sorry for myself. Right on the hilltop, much too late for my liking, Alet arrived and relieved me from my misery.

    Despite my best efforts, I'm still about 5 km short on my weekly quota. Preparing for Comrades in winter is not going to be easy!

    Laurens told me afterwards that the loop had been too long, adding 200 m to the distance. I had noticed that there was no turn marking on the road, just a marshal with a flag. I felt a little better. Obviously, it wasn't my fault that I didn't make the two hour mark!

    The Good: A reasonable start time. Great distance markers. Relatively light traffic.

    The Bad: The mixed start bunch. The mis-positioned marshal in the loop. The opinionated rocket scientist.

    The Ugly: Ambling up that hill after 30 km was not a lot of fun.

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    Revolution Trails 10/15/21 km, Irene, Saturday 2022-05-14 at 08:00

    Goal: Survive some real distance.

    Another crazy week. Friday evening, I started wondering about how I was going to do 30 km on the weekend. It is winter, with limited daylight and unlimited lethargy. Neither Walter nor Ken responded to my text message, but Laurens did. I grudginly agreed to pick him up at 07:30.

    After a wrong turn, we arrived at the venue at 07:55. Admin took a long time, including a lot of invasive questions. We finally started around 08:05. We were told that they would leave at 10:00, so the half marathon that we had paid for was out of the question. We decided on 15 km instead. We meandered through the ARC experimental farm—great surroundings and a welcome change from urban roads. Perhaps three dozen other runners were also on the route. Laurens was even lazier than I was, so I occasionally ran ahead and turned back to fetch him. After completing what we thought was the 15 km route, both my watch and Laurens's fancy GPS suggested that we hadn't quite done 15 km. Accordingly, we meandered some more until the 15 km was up and stumbled through the finish. It wasn't exactly world record pace, so doing some more distance sounded like a good idea. Laurens was not cooperative and I wasn't in a coercive mood. Accordingly, I dropped Laurens off at his home and made myself comfortable at our usual breakfast buffet place to catch up on some reading. I resigned myself to the fact that there was going to be a 10 km run on Sunday...

    The Good: Rustic surroundings. Few runners. Even fewer cars. A reasonable start time.

    The Bad: Finding out at the last moment that a half marathon was not an option. Invasive questions that they have no business asking.

    The Ugly: R 160 for 15 km!

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    Iron Throne Trails Parkrun, Saturday 2022-05-07 at 08:00

    Goal: Loosen up after the marathon. Attend a Parkrun with event number 6 and a May Parkrun and a Parkrun starting with "I" and...

    I took off the entire week to recover from the marathon. By yesterday, I was fine. We were contemplating a trip to Mbombela to do the Klipspringer Valley Lodge Parkrun and to surprise Hanri at the finish of the Elands Marathon, but Hanri withdrew due to illness. We were still planning to make the trip and cheer Deon past the half marathon finish, but when the lodge's phone went unanswered yesterday, I regarded it as a sign to re-plan. Accordingly, I lined up arrangements with Laurens, Alet and Vicky for Iron Throne. I arrived a few minutes late for our 06:30 appointment at Alet's house, and Laurens whisked us off to the venue. After a short detour, we arrived on schedule at 07:30.

    Iron Throne is a trail run, predator park and biker's paradise. Bikers were there in droves. I haven't seen so many smokers in one place in years. We wandered up the hill (the cableway right next door should tell you something), admiring various predators as we went. Cheetah, leopards, a puma and wolves spring to mind. There were also various domestic animals in cages. It wasn't clear whether they were part of the exhibit or part of the menu. Laurens and I broke into a ten-minute warmup run. The terrain was steep and treacherous. My legs were definitely not comfortable, with Monday's proceedings clearly still fresh in their memory. However, after a few minutes they loosened up. Laurens was also relieved. After an operation in the last week, he was relieved that he was also running comfortably.

    The announcements were a little vague, but I was counting on some locals to lead the way. We started on time, headed uphill. I was initially fourteenth, gradually sliding up the pack. Overtaking was hard work, as a narrow trail wound through the forest on the steep slope. 1 km came at 6:20, not bad for the terrain and the altitude gain. I followed two youngsters. Even though I had some reserve, I was reluctant to overtake. I had a nagging feeling that I might well hold them up later. 2 km came at 12:25. The terrain required focus. At one point, we passed close to our previous route, and I heard Vicky calling my name. I dared not look around and risk a tumble. 3 km came at 18:45. Given the downhill to the finish, I hoped that I might avoid the embarrassment of a thirty-something finish. The two youngsters had now cracked and started walking. I thought I was in seventh place. However, as we looped back toward the finish, I saw only two leaders coming the other way. I suppose I was in third to seventh place!? Laurens was behind me in the loop, perhaps two minutes down. The first woman was just ahead of him. I maintained the pressure. Although no-one was in sight ahead of me, someone was in hot pursuit. 4 km came at 25:20. The half-hour mark was now out of reach. The signs were a little confusing, as they were reasonably transparent and with the sun behind them, it was hard to tell whether the sign was intended for us or for the head-on tailenders we were trying to avoid. I did avoid them, finishing just over 31 minutes in fourth place. The pursuer crossed the line just behind me.

    Laurens sailed home about three minutes behind me in fourteenth place. My offer to volunteer was declined, so we ambled on down to the car. Laurens went looking for a caffeine fix while I earned my minutes of fame with a video interview. I also spent some time chatting to John Kollen about new Parkrun options, learning about one in Bloemfontein in the process. Alet and Vicky ambled in after just over an hour. Alet reported suffering some after-effects of sniffles earlier in the week. We jumped into the car and made our way to Jasmyn for some breakfast and shopping. The breakfast was unsuccessful, with nothing on the menu but cement powder and white bread, but the shopping resulted in some mobile eats. Results were in just after mid-day. Strangely, my official time is 30:45, somewhat faster than I figured. I suppose I should be grateful.

    The Good: Several Parkrun milestones (new venue, event #6, first starting with "I", first in May (the last month I needed). Challenging Parkrun in natural surroundings. Good distance markers. Great fresh produce up for grabs.

    The Bad: The slope and the rough terrain conspired to produce a thirty-something time.

    The Ugly: The noisy smokers frequenting the bikers' joint.

    Back to Index

    Wally Hayward Marathon, Half Marathon and 10 km, Monday 2022-05-02 at 06:30

    Goal: Survive a marathon. Qualify for Comrades. Get a G seeding. In that order.

    Traditionally, the Wally Hayward is the last qualifier for Comrades. It falls on or near Workers' Day. This year, with Comrades being moved into late August, there is more time. I didn't feel ready, but Laurens talked me into entering. Treacherously, he advised me this week that he was withdrawing due to health reasons. Of course, he didn't have the spectacular failure that I had at Irene Ultra, so he has already qualified for Comrades. Hanri wasn't going to join us due to other commitments. Instead, she is planning to qualify next weekend.

    It's been yet another rough week. I managed to get a good night's sleep on Saturday night, but Sunday night didn't work that well. I got to bed after 22:00, setting my alarm clock for 04:00 to collect my number and be at the start at 05:30. As often happens when I set my alarm clock that early, I woke up several times. The power was off all evening. Fortunately, in the morning it was back on. Everything worked according to plan, except that I had to walk over 2 km to collect my number. Despite repeated admonishments that we had to bring vaccination certificates or fresh Covid-19 tests, no-one was interested in my paperwork. I arrived at the start at 05:30 with my race number neatly pinned to my vest. I was almost alone. An official explained that we would only start at 06:30. I could have slept almost an hour more! I must have confused the start time with the Irene Ultra. The trauma clearly didn't leave me untouched. However, I now faced a more serious problem: I had an hour to kill at 8°C in a running vest. I did not relish the idea of walking to my car and back. I had to preserve myself for the race. Fortunately, there was a solution at my club tent. The trailer was not there, having suffered a breakdown, but Dirk from the Magnolia tent next door parked his car for us to secure our belongings. Dirk lent me a thick jacket. I settled down in the driver's seat and relaxed. I didn't quite doze off, but I felt refreshed when I got up to join the start bunch. Marius told me about a photograph he had recently found in his collection, in which he recognised me. I remember the scene, but it happened years before we became acquainted in the club. Another member regaled us with stories of Parkrun tourism. I chuckled. He was blissfully unaware of badges and silly targets like chasing successive event numbers. He did know about spelling your name, because he had a real mouthful of a name.

    The bunch was huge, just like in the olden days. The Website claimed 6000 entries. I saw very few familiar faces. I didn't hear the start signal, but the bunch started moving around 06:30. I crossed the start line at 06:34. The race was advertised as a mat-to-mat qualifier, so I hit my stopwatch on the line. I broke into a gentle jog, aiming for 7:00/km. After a while, I passed Hennie and Marix. I hadn't seen them since The Flu. After about 20 minutes, I was worried. I hadn't seen a single distance marker. I asked around, and fellow runners with toy watches gave me a distance check. I was too slow. We were gradually climbing from the rugby club to the Air Force Base, but I sped up slightly. I had my first meal after an hour. My next distance check came around 14 km. This time I was slightly too fast after the long downhill. I reeled in my pace somewhat. Near the golf course, I looked for a toilet to dump some excess fluid. The toilets were occupied, so I used a fence instead. From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash (sic) of white. I looked around. I woman was doing the same thing I was, but in a considerably greater state of undress. I supposed it was an accidental mutual flash. Passing Leribisi Lodge, I saw some cheer leaders by the roadside. One held a poster saying "You still have more energy than Eskom". My retort was too slow to deliver in passing. I resolved to deliver it on the second lap. The route was reasonably flat past Centurion Lake. The whiff from the dam was not pleasant.

    I passed the stadium at 2:12, about 16 minutes too early. I hoped I wasn't going to pay a terrible price. I was still feeling relatively strong, but there was definitely some lead forming in those legs. The climb was definitely more laborious this time. I turned at the Air Force Base feeling grateful that there were not going to be any more substantial climbs. We slid downhill to the golf course. I kept calculating the required pace. It never came down to the point where I could walk if required. I intermittently walked. Around 28 km, I saw the first distances stencilled onto the road surface. The letters were less than 100 mm tall. I saw another three, because I now knew what to look for. That was it. My left knee was niggling slightly. Soon, a twinge in my left calf muscle caught my attention. Cramps. I was not impressed. I was hoping it wouldn't end this way. There was nothing salty at the clubhouse water point. A spectator by the roadside offered me some raw salt. I spent the next 5 km or so looking for water, including a detour into a filling station. No luck. I finally found some water and restored my mouth to some semblance of normality. Passing the Eskom poster, I quipped that we were engaged in "road shedding". I asked some marshals for distance checks. Their answers were spurious; some too optimistic, some grossly pessimistic. I wondered if they understood what devastating effects they were having. I plodded towards the stadium. Passing the Gautrain station, I maintained a 3+1 survival strategy. Approaching the station, we could hear the announcer peaking to a frenzy as the 4:50 cutoff time for Comrades qualification approached. The cutoff happened as I ran down the fence toward the gate. I hoped that they would honour their mat-to-mat promise. I finished at just over 4:48 on my stopwatch.

    I received a welcome refrigerated cloth at the finish and limped to the club tent. I saw De Wet passing me with a pile of chairs. Sure enough, all the chairs had disappeared. William welcomed me, but everything had been packed into a crate. I settled onto the grass and enjoyed the shade offered by the gazebo. Once I had recovered my wits, I limped to De Wet's bus. They dropped me off at my car. I was exceedingly grateful. Walking more than 2 km in that state would not have been a lot of fun.

    There were several missed calls on my phone. One was from Olga. She had seen me in the start bunch, but I hadn't seen her. I was half grateful. Distraction was the last thing I needed. It turns out that the Eskom heckler had actually come to support Olga. She thought that I would get along very well with Andy. I told her to tell Andy that the guy who was busy with road shedding would get along with her. I mentioned my flamboyant hat. Olga responded that that had been the first thing she noticed. She'd found it strange that a homeless man would appear in the start bunch. It didn't sound like a compliment.

    If the organisers honour their mat-to-mat undertaking, Comrades qualification is in the bag. Maybe I can improve it later, but at least the pressure is off.

    The Good: I survived a marathon for the first time since The Flu.

    The Bad: No distance markers. Misleading marshals.

    The Ugly: The organisers using the same subject line for more than a dozen emails and emailing all entries' ID numbers illegally.

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    Roodepoort Parkrun, Wednesday 2022-04-27 at 08:00

    Goal: Attend a bonus Parkrun during my taper week.

    The Wally Hayward marathon happens on Monday. I'm filled with trepidation after the Irene failure, so I'm trying to taper adequately to be well rested. The opportunity to do a midweek Parkrun fits perfectly into this picture. About a dozen Gauteng Parkruns are open today. I chose the Roodepoort event, both for its relative proximity and for the fact that I need another two Parkruns starting with "R" to spell my name.

    Ken didn't respond to the invitation. Laurens and Vicky chickened out during the night. Alet and I left around 06:50. Finding the venue was a little difficult, as Roodepoort's road names are hardly marked at all. Nevertheless, we arrived around 07:35. With the temperature around 7°C, I kept my jacket on for the warmup. The announcements were short and we started about a minute early. I settled into tenth place. A woman ahead was being dragged along by a dog. I envied her. My legs were very stiff. Clearly, I had not warmed up enough. There were no distance markers. The route was slightly muddy. A clear brown path was visible on the lush green surface. At the furthest turn, there were some cones just outside the path. A marshal stood beyond the cones, berating us for "just cheating ourselves". Apparently, we were supposed to have passed outside the cones...

    Around 12 minutes, two youngsters sailed past. I completed the first lap around 13:35. On the second lap, I made good use of some tar roads adjacent to the route. I passed outside the cones this time, suggesting to the marshal that she might tell us where to run rather than just berating all the participants. I lapped the tail walker and started encountering many walkers. Fortunately, there was lots of space. I came close to catching the runner ahead, but over the last section he disappeared into the bunch ahead. I finished around 27:30 and received tag 14. I was surprised, as there had only been 11 runners in front of me. I collected jackets from the car and ambled back along the route. The temperature was now 11°C. Alet jostled with another woman, running and walking. She finished around 52 minutes. We soon found our way home before she headed off for a short vacation with friends. I'm hoping that I haven't exhausted myself excessively for Monday's action!

    The Good: Nice Parkrun in scenic surroundings.

    The Bad: No distance markers. Few route markers. Somewhat rutted route, surrounded by draggy grass.

    The Ugly: The vocal but unhelpful marshal.

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    Noordwyk Parkrun, Saturday 2022-04-23 at 08:00

    Goal: Attend a Parkrun event Number 5 and get some distance on my legs.

    The Noordwyk Parkrun's fifth event happened today. After collecting Laurens at his house, we arrived in Noordwyk at 07:30. We went to view the Russian Orthodox church close up. To my amazement, there were no demonstrators outside. Laurens and I took a brisk walk in the park, while Alet and Lia hovered near the start. The announcements were short and sweet, and we started exactly on time. As usual, a small bunch started frantically. I settled into ninth place. A young girl with long blonde hair was in the bunch. I was pretty certain she would drop out pretty soon.

    The course is strange. From the start, one ventures out in a northerly direction. Following a U-turn, one ventures back toward the start. Passing through some derelict tennis courts, one ventures southeast in a similar out-and-back direction, followed by a third leg to the southwest. The second lap consists of the same exercise again. Too late, I noticed orange paint marks against some trees and lampposts. It seemed like we were taking some short cuts in two of the legs. I compensated on the second lap, doing a bit more than necessary. To my amazement, Blondie stayed ahead all the way to the finish. I gradually slid up the rankings into eighth place, crossing the line in 27:32. I was surprised to receive Tag 7.

    It seemed like they were short of volunteers, so I approached the run director to help. She suggested that I man the split where finishers diverge from the first-lappers. I took up my post, directing second-lappers to the finish. Laurens came past around the half-hour mark. After finishing, he came to keep me company. Eventually, the bunch thinned out. Alet and Lia arrived around 54 minutes. After the stragglers thinned out, we ambled back to the car and tackled the drive home.

    Laurens and I were dropped off in Centurion, 16 km from Alet's house where I could collect my car. I struggled to get started, stiff from the vigorous Parkrun and an hour to cool down. We plodded on together for the first 6 km or so, after which Laurens ventured into his neighbourhood and I turned right. A long uphill followed by an even longer downhill, with generous doses of walking and intermittently cleaning up the streets, and I arrived at Alet's place. They were not yet home, so I settled down on the green grass next to the pool and caught up on some sleep.

    The Good: Parkrun events 1 to 5 are in the bag. Lia appearing on the South African Parkrun Most Events list. I actually survived 21 km of running.

    The Bad: No distance markers. Poorly marked turnarounds. Badly calibrated distance (actually 5,2 km).

    The Ugly: The long way home was slooooooooow.

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    Irene Ultra 48 km, Sunday 2022-04-10 at 05:30

    Goal: Complete 48 km unscathed, preferably at 7:00/km or better.

    This week has been rough. The financial year-end was followed by having to examine a Masters dissertation and another article. Friday, I had to collect the race numbers in Centurion. Saturday was spent in a meeting and working on aircraft, with no opportunity to take a break. To make matters worse, I'd left my car's window open and the pre-race checklist I had printed got soaked in rain. I got home around 21:00 and spent a few minutes preparing my logistics. Some of my race drinks had decayed after several years on the shelf. I got to bed before 22:00, but the whole night was marred by regular waking spells. The alarm clock at 04:10 came as a nasty surprise.

    I ran my checklist and headed for the door. I collected Laurens around 04:55. Traffic was relatively light, and we found parking by 05:20. Unfortunately, we had well over a km to go, and we had to break into a jog on the way. Although my checklist had saved me from forgetting my sunscreen and some lubrication, it didn't save me from forgetting my hat and my breakfast. I also left some of my race snacks at home, specifically the cheese and the dates. I had one of my race snacks before the start in lieu of breakfast.

    The horn went as we approached the start line. The bunch was relatively big, with perhaps 2000 runners. We moved very slowly in darkness, crossing the start line after perhaps three minutes. The sole illumination consisted of city lights reflecting off the low cloud ceiling. It worked, as passing under a lane of trees resulted in almost complete darkness. Perhaps 10 minutes in, Laurens commented that we were on pace. The bunch soon thinned out, and we were running comfortably. There was very light drizzle, but not enough to get us wet. I lost touch with Laurens. Around the 4 km mark, it was getting light, and I could finally read my stopwatch. I was about four minutes early. Despite my attempt to take it easy, I was moving too fast. I deliberately slowed down. I was slightly stiff, but my motion gradually became more fluid. We were now meandering through Midstream. The bunch had considerably thinned out, and light banter could be heard all round. I was surprised to notice that we were on a completely new route, mostly south of the start, and that the distance markers suggested that we would do three laps of 16 km each. I thought back to the Huff and Puff, and realised that I would again be faced with the temptation of passing my car on two occasions. I wondered if I would be able to resist the temptation.

    I passed the 10 km mark in about 1:05, five minutes early. I managed to maintain a comfortable jog. I finally passed the start at 1:36, around six minutes early. I started taking regular walk breaks, hoping to bring the pace back to the planned pace and preserve my strength. I felt increasingly uncomfortable, with both my hips and my left knee complaining ever so slightly. I was definitely gradually deteriorating. The second lap produced more of the same. The leaders lapped us early in the second lap. I envied them being on their last lap. I deliberately restrained my pace, and gradually came closer to the planned arrival times. Unfortunately, I was not feeling better. I started taking regular walk breaks, considering my options as I went. Around the 26 km mark, I was almost on pace, but I was still not getting better. I started thinking that I would retire at the end of the lap, as I was definitely running a risk of causing lasting damage. Laurens came cruising past. He looked comfortable. I told him that I might withdraw, and that he had to look for me in the parking lot.

    I completed the second lap about two minutes early. I maintained a 6:00/km pace for the last km or two, but continuing for another lap definitely wasn't going to do me any good. I continued to the electronic tag readers before turning around and returning to the car. The walk there was not exactly fun. I was already getting stiff. I passed Thabo, just completing his second lap. He looked relaxed. I found the car and tried to make myself comfortable. I just could not find a comfortable position, but I did manage to doze off for about an hour. Laurens phoned me somewhat earlier than expected. He had clearly gained momentum on the last lap. I drove off and collected him from the gate. He had finished about 15 minutes ahead of schedule, with a comfortable Group G Comrades qualifier.

    I'm very disappointed. I don't quite understand what the problem was. Exhaustion, the previous long day, my failure to have a decent breakfast and an initial pace a little faster than planned all played a role. At least I'm still in one piece and I can continue my training programme, but there is clearly a long way to go. Having missed a relatively lenient qualifying pace, I'll have to do somewhat better on a standard marathon. At least there are several months left.

    The Good: Good running weather. Reasonably flat route.

    The Bad: Weak and sore.

    The Ugly: A miserable failure all round. How will I ever get back to running some real distance again?

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    Huff and Puff 8, 16, 24 or 32 km,Saturday 2022-04-02 at 05:30

    Goal: 24 km at 6:30/km or so.

    I was surprised to learn about Nuno's latest event, right on my doorstep. It was earlier than I would have liked, but at least I only had 400 m to walk to the start. They had pitched a gazebo in the gymnasium's parking lot, and after a few short announcements, we started on a clockwise circuit. It was still almost completely dark. On the gradual descent to Saint Street, the sky gradually lightened. Walter regaled me and Ken with a lecture on boutique trucks. The tale was interrupted by the sudden uphill in Saints. Atterbury Road is never a pleasant experience, and we arrived back at the gym after just under an hour. Laurens joined us in the last stretch. The second lap was counterclockwise. I was taking strain, perhaps not fully recovered from the previous Saturday. On the second lap, I started cleaning up the neighbourhood. As a result, I lagged a little behind my peers. Back at the gazebo, I decided to call it a day. The temptation of my house within visual range was just a bit too much. After chatting with Laurens and some girls for a few minutes, I headed home to tackle the rest of my Saturday. I kept telling myself that it was prudent to preserve myself for next Saturday's 48 km ultra...

    The Good: Right on my doorstep.

    The Bad: Stiff and tired. Clearly not fully recovered from the 32 km race.

    The Ugly: 05:30!

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    Kolonnade 32 km, 15 km and 5 km; Saturday 2022-03-26 at 06:00

    Goal: Complete 32 km at around 6:15/km, unscathed.

    I somehow got bullied into entering for the Irene Ultra in April, so I was looking for a transition from the half marathon to the full marathon and beyond. The Kolonnade 32 km seemed like the perfect opportunity. I didn't feel quite ready, but 32 km races are few and far between, so I entered several weeks ago. I was overjoyed when Hanri informed me last week that she had also entered. Her best distance thus far is 25 km, so this race would be a step up. We agreed that we would aim for 6:15/km, her planned marathon pace. Laurens decided to take it easier, opting for 6:30/km instead.

    Laurens collected me from the CSIR around 05:22. He insisted on parking as far as possible from the start line. On our walk in, we bumped into Danie and Melani—two more faces that I haven't seen in two years. We found the entry tables, collected our numbers and made our way to the start line. We arrived with more than five minutes to spare and found Hanri almost immediately. Very few athletes were wearing masks—perhaps under 10%. We started on time, crossing the start line in around 30 s. The bunch was dense, but flowed well. The first distance marker I saw was at 3 km, which we passed about 30 s late. Given the start, I was not worried. The next marker was at 6 km, by which time we had reduced the deficit to 5 s. We were running eastbound, parallel to the mountain. The terrain was rather even. This all changed when we turned right to face the mountain. We meandered through the streets of Montana, gradually making our way back to Kolonnade. We stayed within 10 s of our target pace all the way to 25 km. I encountered Hendrik, amazingly without his cousins. However, he soon found three girls from Pretoria Bobbies to team up with. We passed Gustav at some point. He was walking powerfully, as always. The water points were efficient and friendly.

    The first lap ended at 15 km. The bunch did not thin out much. Halfway through the second lap, we entered the loop for the extra 2 km. Laurens was nowhere to be seen. I was a little worried, especially against the background of his rather ambitious two half marathons last weekend. Something else worried me; there was a noisy bus not far behind us. I resolved to stay well ahead of them. We passed 25 km on time, around 2:36:15. Hanri was now in uncharted territory. In addition to the normal level of fatigue one would expect, she complained of some pain in the gluteus maximus. She was still running strongly, but taking more regular walk breaks. I decided to use the opportunity to do some interval training. An Alpha Centurion runner with 30-odd Comrades and Two Oceans medals served as a marker, and I shuttled back and forth between him and Hanri. We were now losing time, the deficit soon sliding past the five minute mark. As we passed 1 km to go, I advised Hanri that we could still finish at less than 6:30/km. We ran strongly, finishing around 3:27 for a pace of just under 6:30/km. The scary part is that we could hear the noisy bus as we finished. What a narrow escape! We availed ourselves of the ablution facilities and returned to her club tent. Laurens soon found us. He had finished only minutes behind us, just within his planned 6:30/km. He reported that he had initially suffered, fearing that my admonitions about his two half marathons might not have been misplaced. However, as is his custom, he gained momentum throughout the race, completing the second lap much faster than the first.

    We found our way back to the cars. I slumped into the passenger seat, feeling a little sorry for myself. All things considered, I'm happy. Our pace worked well to the 25 km mark, and I don't anticipate any lasting ill effects.

    The Good: A "normal" 32 km race. There is life after The Flu! Good distance markers, albeit not every km. Hanri completing her longest race yet.

    The Bad: Forgetting to lubricate your nipples before a long race is a mistake. Fabric is much more abrasive than you think.

    The Ugly: The thought of adding another 16 km onto this distance next month strikes me as a tall order...

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    Right to Run Half Marathon, 10 km and 5 km; Monday 2022-03-21 at 07:00

    Goal: Complete a half marathon around two hours, unscathed.

    This week, I collected my ASA racing licence from Gert. I was delighted to get my old AGN66 back, as there had been talk of the club losing its block of numbers after The Flu. It seems like the strategy I implemented a decade ago paid off; I had concentrated most of the members in the lower part of our block with the expectation that AGN might one day reallocate some of our numbers, and my own number proved to be one of the survivors when it finally happened.

    Laurens had entered for two races this weekend. Given the Kolonnade 32 km race that looms next weekend, I thought it was a really bad idea. Accordingly, I planned to do a Parkrun on Saturday and a half marathon on Monday's public holiday. The Parkrun fell victim to a balloon flying opportunity, but I was eager to try out today's half marathon. I tried to pre-enter, but Entrytime's credit card portal did not work. The organisers emphasised that there would be limited entries on the day, so we planned to arrive with an hour to spare. I collected Laurens at 05:43 and arrived at Pilditch Stadium exactly at 06:00. There were no queues, and I had my entry in my hand at 06:05. The long wait became even longer, as the start was postponed to 07:30 due to delays with placing the marshals and then brought back to 07:15. We used the spare time to check out the cycling track and the newly-revamped athletics stadium.

    Even though the three distances would start together, the bunch was relatively small, with perhaps a tenth of the 200-odd runners wearing masks. We started near the back, making our way forward in the first km or so. I soon lost contact with Laurens. In addition to the same circumspection I required to prevent a catastrophe next weekend, Laurens also had the recent half marathon in his legs. I jogged lightly on very even terrain, passing the 2 km mark at 12:30. I was slightly too slow. The 3 km mark slid by at 17:30—slightly too fast. I wondered about the veracity of the markers. The water points were all well organised. All the helpers handing out water sachets wore gloves—a new phenomenon since The Flu started.

    The run-down industrial area made for interesting scenery. A noisy bunch from Faranani came by. Perhaps it is fortuitous that we were not in a residential area, so early on a public holiday. Around the 8 km mark, we started passing the tail-enders of the 5 km race. They looked much more exhausted than any of us on the longer route. We passed the turnoff to the finish. I was amazed to see that most of the runners continued for a second lap. 10 km came around 57 minutes. I was starting to feel tired, walking intermittently. The loop in the second lap went up a steep hill, mercifully short. We passed Cor Delfos station, making a 180° turn before running headlong down the steep hill to rejoin the loop. Towards the end of the loop, I saw Sandra walking up the hill. We exchanged greetings, the first since The Flu. I stuck to the dotted line between two lanes, avoiding the worst camber on the road. Several traffic cops and marshals felt it was their duty to nudge me to the other side of that dotted line. Nevertheless, the almost-zero camber helped a lot. It was clear that I would finish after somewhat more than two hours. At the 19 km mark, I estimated 2:02. At the 20 km mark, I estimated 2:01. At the finish line, I actually broke 1:59. Clearly, their distance markers were not great.

    I waited for Laurens in the car. He finished around 2:12. We left straight away, stopping by at my mailbox on the way home. I hadn't collected mail in months. There was exactly one letter. Way to go, Post Office! As I write this in the early afternoon, at least it seems like I didn't overdo things. I'm tired and slightly sore, but at least I'm intact.

    The Good: Things are definitely returning to normality. I was pleasantly surprised to break two hours without undue strain.

    The Bad: Distance markers were a bit iffy; I only saw 10 of them (2, 3, 5, 8, 12, 14, 15, 18, 19, 20 km) and the spacing was irregular, to say the least.

    The Ugly: Entrytime just doesn't seem to get this credit card thing right. Losing an hour of sleep is a high price to pay.

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    Gracepoint Parkrun, Saturday 2022-03-05 at 08:00

    Goal: Attend a Parkrun event Number 4.

    With Event Numbers 1, 2 and 3 out of the way, we took the opportunity to collect Number 4 today. Vicky declined our invitation, so I invited Ken. He immediately accepted. Laurens met us there, as TA had decided to join him. Alet and I collected Ken from his house at 06:50, arriving at 07:30. Ken disappeared for a while, leaving us to explore the route and warm up. The trail was clean and well marked, but the slopes were daunting and the surface uneven. I set myself a target of at least breaking 30 minutes. The course looked boring on the map, but in real life the vegetation was dense enough that the head-on traffic was barely visible. I chatted to some of the participants. Many of them were high-ranking Parkrun tourists, including John Kollen, third in South Africa and just barely behind Bruce Fordyce with 222 different events. The announcements were short and sweet, and we started exactly on time.

    To my surprise, Laurens surged ahead. After some initial jostling, I found myself in seventh place, maybe three places ahead of Laurens. We climbed a steep hill, then sailed downhill to the river. We followed the river for a while. The banks were littered with tonnes of garbage brought on by the recent rains, but the path was clean. The climb to the upper parking lot was laborious, to say the least. I walked much of it. After a short downhill grade, I passed the start point at 9:10. If I could maintain the pace for two more laps, I would at least achieve my target time.

    We soon started lapping the tailenders. Most people yielded immediately to the left. I never felt obstructed. I lapped Alet, then TA and then Ken. I saw Laurens a few times in the loops, but lapping him was not on the cards. I again walked most of the serious uphill, entering the third lap at 19:00. I'd lost some time, but the goal was still within reach. The third lap was uneventful. I finished in seventh place around 29:20. Clearly, I'd lost some steam in the latter half, but at least I didn't bust the dreaded half-hour mark. Laurens finished soon after in 13th place, with Ken and TA arriving in due course. It was great to see TA back in the fray. Laurens and I tackled another lap, using the opportunity to relentlessly rib the course marshals and overtaking Alet near the river. I chatted to Rae for a while, and soon discovered that she and Ken have known one another for decades. As everyone had a busy day ahead, we soon headed home.

    With events 1, 2, 3, 4 and 8 in the bag, the Top Ten is slowly approaching completion. Hopefully, focus on important stuff will return eventually...

    The Good: TA's return to outdoor running. Alet appearing on the international Parkrun Most Events list. Yet another low Parkrun event number. A challenging route and more than enough heavy breathing.

    The Bad: No distance markers, although the laps could serve the same purpose if your mental arithmetic is good enough.

    The Ugly: Yet again, my resolve to do some more distance afterwards didn't result in more than one extra lap.

    Back to Index

    Skemerberg Parkrun, Saturday 2022-02-26 at 07:00

    Goal: Attend a Parkrun event Number 2.

    A plethora of new Parkruns sprang up in the past few weeks. Having learned about several of them from Bruce at Bapsfontein, and having accumulated both a Number 1 and a Number 3 event, I suggested that we should attend a Number 2 this weekend. Laurens, Alet and Vicky accepted. Laurens wanted to take it easy, as he'd entered for a half marathon the following day. I've had lots of trouble with a sore back in the past weeks, and wasn't certain whether I'd be in shape for a Parkrun, but I was certainly going to try. I had a bad night, waking up dozens of times and having to apply a cold compress to manage the sore back muscles. The alarm clock was a rude interruption.

    We left Alet's house around 05:40. After a scenic drive, we arrived at the venue at 06:30, with enough time to take a warmup stroll through the quarry and the piles of manure. I had a slight back cramp as I alighted from Laurens's car. I assumed there would be plenty of Parkrun tourists in attendance. I was not disappointed. I chatted to a group of runners in 100 and 250 shirts. Their number of events ranged from 85 to 180. All were eager to add another new one. Vicky had a nasty surprise when she realised that she'd forgotten to bring her barcode. The announcements started around 06:50. They were clear (if you understand Afrikaans) and outlined a complex route consisting of four loops. The announcer also indicated that the first km would be a climb, followed by 4 km of downhill. Some quick mental arithmetic left the distinct impression that the first km would have to be a serious climb...

    We started on time, immediately tackling a breathtaking climb—breathtaking in the most literal sense. I initially settled into 13th place, then 11th. I could see five runners ahead. Like me, they were all walking. Eventually, we turned right to follow the contour. Most of us broke into a half-hearted jog. We turned right again, sailing down a steep slope with uneven paving. There was a great view to be had, with the Hartbeespoort Dam in the background, but the uneven footing meant that I hardly noticed any of it. We soon entered the second loop on even terrain. I passed a marker showing "4 km to go" at 6:20—slow, but not irredeemable. I crept up the field, reaching eighth place by the "2 km to go" at 16:50. We were now entering the fourth loop, down in the valley and with a gradual climb to the finish. We meandered through fairly dense growth. The surface was fairly even, but slightly muddy from the previous night's rain. A youngish man in black remained ahead of me, stubbornly resisting my attempts to catch him. Another followed behind, in dogged pursuit. There was not going to be any respite. "1 km to go", and the Black Knight cracked. I sailed past, leaving no-one in sight. After passing "500 m to go", I crossed the finish line under 28 minutes, in seventh place.

    There was a commotion at the finish. Even though the number tags were strung on a line and were being handed out sequentially, the scanning was in disarray. The scanner did not seem to know what to do with runners without barcodes. I offered the race director some help, and started handing out number tags while trying to help with scanning advice. Laurens arrived in 31st place in about 35 minutes. By about the 50th finisher, things settled into a nice routine. Shortly before 08:00, more runners started arriving. The first one left disappointed when she learned that we'd started at 07:00. The next few all took the option to start late, based on my directions. Rather late than never! Alet and Vicky arrived in 121st and 122nd place. I was dismissed by about the 150th finisher, and we found our way to the nearby Harties attractions for breakfast and some fresh produce shopping. Because of the barcode scanning, not much came of my plan to do another 10 km or so afterwards.

    The results confirmed the notion that the finish times were slightly out of sync. I am listed in seventh place as expected, but with a time somewhat different to my estimate. Laurens is shown in 28th place, with Alet and Vicky at 122 and 123 out of 160 finishers.

    Events 1, 2 and 3 are now in the bag. We'll have to think carefully about our plans. Comrades looms in the distance, and we will have to start accumulating some real distance on Saturdays. For the moment, the temptation remains to do Event 4 and my first Parkrun in March and one starting with a C and...

    The Good: Another new Parkrun event number. My first opportunity to be a Parkrun volunteer.

    The Bad: Incomplete distance markers.

    The Ugly: Our plans to do some real distance are not gaining momentum.

    Back to Index

    Nedbank-Skosana Half Marathon, 10 km and 5 km. Saturday 2022-02-12 at 06:00

    Goal: Complete a half marathon in not too much over two hours, and don't get lapped more than once.

    I was a little surprised when Hanri sent us a flyer for an upcoming race. It had all the hallmarks of normality. Just like the olden days. We enrolled online for the half marathon, along with over 400 other runners. I collected my race number on Friday as instructed. Around 19:30, Laurens phoned me in a panic. He had not collected his number, and the collection point was now closed. On my suggestion he called an enquiries number, and was told that he would be accommodated in the morning.

    I woke before the alarm clock, around 04:50. I made my way to the venue, finding parking 100 m from the finish line. I saw Lammie, Hennie, Jaap and Iain, all for the first time in almost two years. Hanri and Laurens were waiting at the start as agreed. The bunch was not too crowded, and about a third of the 400-odd runners were masked. With two minutes to go, Laurens pointed out that I had to undergo a Covid check. I rushed to the desk and had my temperature taken. I collected a green dot on my race number and rushed back to the start. I just made it, except the start gun didn't go. It finally went about three minutes late, and we were on our way. The planning was originally to maintain 6:00/km for the first 15 km or so, and then to accelerate to attempt a two-hour finish if our reserves allowed. Things didn't quite work as planned, though. We would do four laps of about 5 km each, but the extra 1100 m would be added at the start, not on the last lap. Accordingly, calculating our pace would be harder than usual. In addition, the distance markers were placed in descending order, requiring some higher-grade mental arithmetic.

    Our first km or so felt much too fast, but Hanri assured me that it was fine. The next km felt just as fast, and Hanri assured me that we were much too fast. We slowed down a little, maintaining just under 6:00/km for the next lap or so. The bunch was rather thin by now. The lead vehicle shot by near the finish, followed by scrawny runners looking determined. This was not a good sign. I really didn't want to be lapped twice...

    We were fairly comfortable, but it was going to be hard to maintain the pace. My calculations pointed to a 2:04 finish. My worst fears were realised when the lead vehicle shot by again, just before the end of the second lap. I consoled myself that it wouldn't have happened if the loop had been near the end. I consumed a gel sachet after two laps, while Hanri had some peanut butter, or reasonable facsimile thereof. On the final lap, I was feeling reasonably comfortable, but Hanri was taking strain. We walked twice. There was a white woman with blue dreadlocks ahead of us. I used her as a marker, and it was patently obvious that we were losing ground. I wasn't going to make two hours, so I decided to reserve myself to a 2:04 finish and use the opportunity to clean up the streets. I repeatedly lagged behind, and had to work hard to catch Hanri again. The Blue Rasta gradually disappeared up ahead. In the last km or so, I was definitely anaerobic. We finished just after 2:04 and collected some cool water before propping ourselves up near the finish. Biffy came to chat for a few minutes. Hanri was smug about her new personal best half marathon time. Lawrence arrived around 2:12. We continued to chat for a while before heading back to our cars. Much of the discussion revolved around how to complete a qualifying marathon in the next few months. Running a mediocre half marathon in February would be a disaster in a normal Comrades year, but at least this year's Comrades is a couple of months later than usual. Let's hope we can jump this chasm!

    The Good: A real race, after almost two years without one! Good distance markers, albeit in the wrong order.

    The Bad: Only one water point, with clumsy service and leaking water bags.

    The Ugly: Two-something for a half marathon in February!

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    Bapsfontein Hotel Parkrun, Saturday 2022-02-05 at 08:00

    Goal: Attend a Parkrun event with a low number.

    I happened to be browsing some Parkrun records this week, and noticed that a new Parkrun had appeared. The Bapsfontein Hotel Parkrun (not to be confused with the now-defunct Bapsfontein Parkrun) started two weeks ago. Having recently completed an inaugural Parkrun at Eldoradopark, we just had to use the opportunity to do a Number 3 event at this new venue.

    We left Alet's home at 06:30. She dropped us off near the Wellknown church just before 07:00. We plodded along in light rain, somewhat the worse for wear after Tuesday's brutal 15 km session. An occasional oncoming truck enveloped me in a cloud of fine mist. By the time I arrived at the hotel around 07:45, I had 8 km on the clock and a myriad of light brown spots on my once-white shirt. Laurens arrived a few minutes later. There were around 35 participants, with only about a quarter being masked. The announcements were succinct and audible, and we started on time. To my amazement, the announcer made no mention of Bruce Fordyce in the field. At all previous events that I had attended with him, he was asked to say something. This time, we were spared the bad standup comedy.

    I started in seventh place, soon moving up the field to fourth. The three runners ahead appeared to be serious. Deep mud puddles spanned the entire width of the road in places, and they simply ran straight through. I tried to circumvent the first two, but soon realised that I was not going to keep up. I went straight through the third one, submerging my shoes and socks entirely in the mud. I soon lost contact with the three leaders, but the runner following me was intermittently visible with his red T-shirt. We ran on a graded road, often flanked on both sides by tall trees. The ambience was rather pleasant, with the cloud cover and lots of shade. The terrain was only slightly undulating. Had it not been for the mud, it could have been close to idyllic.

    We followed the fence counterclockwise around the fenced premises to the 2 km mark, passing it at 10:40. We then swung left and tackled an inner loop. The 3 km mark went by at 15:45. I did not see any other distance markers. At the 3 km mark, we started following the fence back to the start. I soon passed Alet, coming the other way with some other pedestrians. The Red Baron pursued me relentlessly, mostly about 100 m behind. I noticed some brownish paths through the tall grass, skirting most of the muddiest pools. The runners behind us clearly did not fancy wading through the mud. I made good use of the detours. I gradually opened up the gap on the Red Baron. Near the end, there was some confusion about the exact line to follow. It looked like we were supposed to turn inside a line of cones, but I deliberately ran around one of them, just to be sure.

    I finished in fourth place, just after 27 minutes. The three leaders were standing there, chatting. I joined them. To my amazement, all of them were fifty-something, or even older. I wasn't going to win my age group today! Laurens finished about two minutes behind me in seventh place. We went to scout the vicinity, seeing the remains of the legendary country music venue from the Seventies. It is now a small shopping centre with a variety of novelty shops. Bruce finished about 10 minutes behind Laurens. I walked back on the course to find Alet. I found her engrossed in conversation with a young girl, and ambled to the finish with them. I asked Bruce Fordyce about possible new Parkruns in the vicinity. Looks like there are some opportunities to accumulate some low event numbers in the immediate future! The original plan had included the possibility of a run back to the church, but the temptation of Alet's car proved irresistible. On the way back, we stopped at a breakfast venue.

    The results proved interesting. The winner, Rodney Trevor Jones, is over 60 and has 322 Parkruns and 81 venues to his credit. Runner-up Gavin Arentsen won my age group, with 181 Parkruns and 39 venues. Third was Tracy Rankin, fifth on the South African tourist list with 473 Parkruns and 202 different venues. Unknowingly, I had been chatting to some real celebrities! The Red Baron is a local, with almost all his previous Parkruns at the former Bapsfontein Parkrun. Other luminaries on the Tourist list that I noticed in the results included Leonvz Touring, Anita Blount and, of course, the Fordyces.

    The Good: Taking in a new Parkrun venue close to home, while still getting in some distance. Finally seeing the legendary Bapsfontein country music haven from yesteryear.

    The Bad: Only two distance markers (unless I missed something).

    The Ugly: Mud halfway up my shins, and that with my brand-new running shoes and socks...

    Back to Index

    Eldorado Park Parkrun, Saturday 2022-01-15 at 08:00

    Goal: Attend an inaugural Parkrun.

    Some weeks ago, while looking for a new Parkrun venue close to home, I happened to notice that a new Parkrun would be starting at Eldorado Park. I diarised the date and told all my running partners about it. All were initially interested, but the attrition continued until only Laurens and Alet were left. We collected Laurens at 06:45, arriving at the venue around 07:30. But for Laurens's smartphone, finding the venue would have been an adventure. My directions relied on street names, which are not exactly well marked on streets in that valley. I had also prepared directions to two nearby Parkruns in Soweto, just in case. There was no need to fear—there was plenty of activity and the parking lot was already filling up with cars.

    The brand-new Parkrun has been laid out in a small park around the sports stadium. The route traverses the entire property twice, including some meandering inside the grounds and three laps of the stadium. The speeches were heavier than usual, including a speech by guest celebrity Bruce Fordyce. Bruce claimed that he expected to win his age group, as all his contemporaries were dead. The bunch was rather large—I estimated between 300 and 400 participants. Bruce fired the starting gun and joined the bunch just behind me. We started with a full lap of the track. We quickly lapped the tail-enders, passing on the right and leaving the stadium to circumnavigate the grounds. The terrain was flat, making for a relatively fast pace. I settled into 21st place. At the end of the first lap, we all received elastic armbands as proof of completion. We were now in dense traffic, negotiating the tail-enders with their toddlers, prams and dogs. Approaching the end of the second lap, I saw Alet just in front of me. A marshal told me that I had to turn left into the stadium. I did, and ended up in a dead-end. By the time I rejoined the proper route, Alet was still in front of me. I barely missed lapping her. The last lap of the track was tough, with me gasping for breath while chasing a much younger guy. I finished in 20th place in 26:20.

    We were back in Pretoria by 10:00. By mid-day on Sunday, there was still no sign of results. I was really, really hoping that they hadn't lost it all. The results finally appeared during the afternoon. There were some surprises. I had moved up to 19th and my time had shrunk to 26:02. I suspect they had lost a runner somewhere along the line. Laurens was still in his original 42nd spot, and Alet still in her 284th place. More surprisingly, 681 finishers were listed—a lot more than I'd estimated.

    Now we've finally run out of excuses. It's time to start doing some real distance on Saturdays. Maybe we'll take off the occasional Saturday just for the fun of it, or to complete some badge requirements. For example, I still need to do a March, April and May Parkrun one day; and one starting with a C, and one starting with a U, and another starting with B, and two more starting with R...

    The Good: The chance to complete Event Number 1 at a new location. A festive atmosphere. Beating Bruce Fordyce again.

    The Bad: Not a single distance marker.

    The Ugly: Time to face the real distances again.

    Back to Index

    Rondebosch Common Parkrun, Saturday 2022-01-08 at 08:00

    Goal: Notch up another Parkrun unscathed. 26:00 would be nice.

    I unexpectedly had to fly to Cape Town, raising the possibility of another new Parkrun. I had some concerns about getting to a venue, as most Parkruns are still closed, but after landing in Cape Town, Naseer indicated that he would join me. His brother Moosa would pick us up at the hotel. We would be back in time to leave for the airport at 10:00 as planned.

    Several attractive choices are still closed, so I settled on Rondebosch Common. It has been open for the past four weeks, and we could always divert to nearby Zandvlei, which has been open for the past six weeks. I sent Lia a text message, as she also seems to have been chasing a few new venues recently. I got to bed just after midnight.

    Sunlight through a gap in the curtains woke me up around five. Soon after, there was a response from Lia. I got the impression that my message may have been delivered late, but Lia indicated that she was doing Century City. Pity—would have been nice to see her.

    Moosa picked us up at 07:20. We found parking around 07:30 and went looking for Naseer2. I was relieved to see that the terrain is flat; very flat. I read the notices relating the history of the place, going back to the 17th century. Naseer1 and I walked and jogged for a few minutes to warm up before returning for the briefing. There was a large banner with instructions: Keep right, pass left, keep dogs on a short leash. We would do slightly more than two laps.

    The briefing was audible and clear. Most of the runners were prudently spaced and masked. Seeding banners divided runners into batches according to expected finish time. I presumptuously joined the sub-25 bunch, right at the front. We started about two minutes late. With only fast runners in the bunch, we soon settled into order. I was around 33rd. Very little overtaking happened, but we faced a constant stream of oncoming walkers and runners. They had not been briefed to keep right. The first km went by in 4:50. Ambitious, but not disastrous. A youngster came sprinting past. I wondered how long it would last. I didnít have to wait long. He blew up and started walking, allowing me to sail past. 2 km came at 09:30. Perfect. The extra oxygen definitely helps. I completed the first lap, then passed the 3 km mark at 14:20. There was a real chance that I would break 25 minutes for the first time since The Flu started.

    I was suffering. Just after the 3 km mark, I had to take a walk break for the first time. I probably took another four walk breaks, arriving at the 4 km mark around 19:50 and the finish at 24:40. I was 31st, almost a minute inside my post-Flu best. I was tired but comfortable.

    I walked back to find my companions. I found Naseer2 around 28:00 near the finish. He would definitely finish under 30 minutes. Naseer1 and Moosa were nowhere to be found. I walked almost all the way around the lap before a car pulled up beside me and offered me a lift. The pair had decided to quit after the first lap. They saw me backtracking and eventually came to look for me by car. I was sweating profusely, something that seldom happens back home. The temperature was over 30°C by the time we arrived at the airport.

    Everyone enjoyed the outing. We may have several new Parkrun participants. I am certainly happy that I was able to cash in on the extra oxygen to break 25 minutes, in addition to adding yet another Parkrun to my tally.

    Next week weíre planning to attend a brand-new Parkrun. Weíll use the opportunity to log Event Number 1, but then weíll have to knuckle down and start doing some real distance. Who knows, maybe Iíll get another coincidental opportunity to notch up a few more Parkrun venues this year.

    The Good: Great organisation. Well-maintained track in a historic location. Flat terrain. Great distance markers. Lots of oxygen. 24-something!

    The Bad: Not bumping into Lia as I was hoping I would.

    The Ugly: Litres of water dripping onto the floor around me.

    Back to Index

    Alberts Farm Parkrun, Saturday 2022-01-01 at 08:00

    Goal: Notch up another Parkrun unscathed. 27:00 would be nice. Yawn...

    Yet another Saturday, yet another Parkrun. Unfortunately, Parkrun's Total Control policy got the upper hand, and the arrangement that allowed two or three Parkruns on New Year's Day has been cancelled. We left Alet's house at 06:30, collected Laurens at 06:45 and found our way to the venue with half an hour to spare. Laurens and I walked around the route, while Alet, Latie and Amelia stayed behind. The wind was gusty, predicting nothing good about the Parkrun. We mostly walked, breaking into a token run towards the end. At least I wasn't as stiff as the previous Saturday. I found a series of Alberts family graves, the oldest that I noticed dating from 1888.

    A concise route briefing for new arrivals started early, followed by the main briefing. I thought we'd actually start on time. It was not to be. The main briefing was long-winded in the extreme, and we only got going around 08:03. The start was not as boisterous as one often sees, and I settled into 22nd place. The surface was slippery, rutted and full of tall grass—a far cry from some of the manicured routes we've recently seen. The route meanders around the park, with two gradual climbs onto the back side of Northcliff hill. Blue skies allowed the sun to bake down mercilessly. I occasionally walked on uphills. There were no distance markers, making it hard to judge my pace. Over the last half, I passed only two runners and only two passed me. I finished around 28:15 in 20th place.

    Laurens finished several minutes later. He was not keen to do another lap, so I walked back along the route to find the other three. I found them around 4 km. A woman carrying a child against her chest was just ahead of them. I had a hard time keeping up with her, despite her 20 kg handicap. It turns out that her family also did the Parkrun tourist circuit. We finished again, found our way to the car and made our way home, to resume our normal Saturday chores around 10:00.

    Laurens and I reflected along the way that we cannot maintain this Parkrun spree indefinitely. Soon, we'll have to knuckle down and start doing some real distance on Saturdays. But the respite is fun while it lasts.

    The Good: Finding another green haven in the middle of Johannesburg.

    The Bad: No distance markers at all.

    The Ugly: 27:30 last week, 28:15 this week. Not a good trend...

    Back to Index

    2021 Races

    Golden Harvest Parkrun, Saturday 2021-12-25 at 08:00

    Goal: Notch up another Parkrun unscathed. 27:00 would be nice. Yawn...

    We're using the holiday break to take in a few more Parkruns. Given the recent history, we were a little uncertain whether all the Parkruns would indeed take place, so I planned a combined trip to three adjacent Parkruns in the Johannesburg area. If one wasn't happening, at least we'd be able to make it to an adjacent event on time. Golden Harvest would be closest, with Albert's Farm and the famous Delta in close proximity.

    Laurens collected me and Alet from Alet's house around 06:50. With little traffic on the road, we made good time, arriving at the venue around 07:25. We reminisced about our previous attempt to do the Golden Harvest Parkrun, which came to naught due to flooding. This time, despite our alternative plans, the weather was fine and cars were flooding into the venue. The show was on! Both Laurens and I were feeling rather the worse for wear after our Thursday speed session. Accordingly, our warmup became a leisurely affair, with no running at all. We did get a good impression of the route, though. With the slope and the ruts and the mud, this one was not going to be a walk in the park (sic).

    The announcements were a little strange. The Race Director kept looking in the direction of whatever she was describing. The bullhorn went with her, pointing the wrong way and becoming all but inaudible. Many members of the crowd were conversing behind us, making it hard to follow her admonitions. The route she described was completely different to what I had studied on the Web. I hoped that the markings would be clear enough, or indeed that there would be a stream of runners leading the way. Given the numbers, the latter was at least a safe bet. The start involved a headlong rush, minus the usual crowd of youngsters. Soon, I settled into 18th place. 1 km came at 05:30. Perfect. We meandered through a dense forest of indigenous trees—definitely not indigenous to these parts, though. The ground was slightly muddy, and the paths were rough. I followed some other runners, first downhill and then uphill. A few runners passed, and a few cracked and started walking. One had a dog on a leash. I took the occasional walk. 2 km came at 11:00. Perfect again. At least my calves, still stiff from last week's folly, were holding up. After the halfway mark, we started descending toward the dam. I was mostly jostling for position with the dog and a woman in her fifties, sporting a red T-shirt. Given that half the field wore red, I thought nothing of it. She was running at a constant pace, which I found inefficiently slow, while I was alternating between running and walking. The markings were not as clear as they might have been, and I was grateful for the guidance from runners up ahead. 4 km came at 21:00. Not great, but good enough. As we approached the finish, hoped to overtake the woman. My legs would not cooperate. She sped up toward the funnel, and I finished a few seconds behind her in about 27:30, receiving tag number 17.

    While waiting for my companions, I chatted to several other runners, including the woman who had just beaten me. Laurens arrived about 10 minutes later, with Alet another 12 minutes later. We walked down to the waterside. The bank was utterly tranquil, with the city visible in the background but not intruding on the restful atmosphere. A fisherman was sitting on the bank, watching his lines in the water. We ambled on up to the car, making our way back to Alet's place for a leisurely breakfast.

    The results showed a few surprises. Firstly, enough people finished to push me into the top tenth of the results. Secondly, the woman in red turned out to be the same one who had almost tripped me up last week. Maybe it's a good thing that I did not recognise her when we chatted... The time intervals were not what I had expected, suggesting that the timekeepers had missed one finisher before us. Nevertheless, we finally managed to tick off Golden Harvest on our list. Next Saturday may see our last Parkrun for a while, as we gradually creep up the Most Events list.

    The Good: A tranquil setting right in the middle of the city, with nary a building in sight. Making it into the top half of the South African "Most Events" list.

    The Bad: Stiff calves from last week's training. I didn't see the 3 km marker.

    The Ugly: I hope the 25:30 from last week was not a fluke...

    Back to Index

    Bryanston Parkrun, Saturday 2021-12-18 at 08:00

    Goal: Notch up another Parkrun unscathed. 27:00 would be nice.

    I was invited to an early-morning run and a cycling outing for today. The "early morning" part did not appeal to me and I wasn't well matched with the cycling group, so the idea to visit another Parkrun venue won in the end. The nearest unrun Parkrun was Bryanston. It will be closed on the next two Saturdays due to public holidays, making it an obvious choice for today.

    I collected Laurens at 07:00. Despite missing the offramp while I was engrossed in Laurens's stories, we arrived about 25 minutes early. We took a leisurely stroll down the route, breaking into a light jog on the way back. I was feeling decidedly lethargic. The Race Director was fairly to the point, although I could not help sniggering at his references to the "omnicron" virus. Greek obviously ain't what it used to be. A large crowd was in attendance, perhaps 250 or so, mostly masked and mostly keeping a respectable distance.

    We started about two minutes late. The customary headlong rush happened, but there were relatively few youngsters. Perhaps three dozen runners settled down in front of me. I ran comfortably behind a young man. After perhaps 10 minutes, he cracked and started walking. I complained loudly that my pacer had disappeared. He quipped that he was grateful to have been able to contribute to society in this way. I reassured him that it had been no minor contribution. The 2 km marker passed at 10:30, just about on pace. We looped back towards the start, and I counted the runners ahead. I was in 28th place. A woman in a red T-shirt slid past, cutting in front of me and almost causing me to fall. She passed a few more runners, settling into 24th place. Around 3 km (I never saw another distance marker to the finish), we started encountering head-on traffic. We were doubling back on the same route, and numerous tail-enders were still on that portion. Everyone was very civil about it, keeping left and not causing appreciable delays. There were many dogs on the route, not all on leashes as suggested.

    I ran with a small group, alternating positions between about 26th and 29th. I occasionally walked, just to regain my breath. Towards the end, I could no longer keep up, and allowed a gap of perhaps 50 m to open in front of me. I was looking forward to the finish. It came sooner than I expected, as I finished at 25:31 in 29th place. I was pleased. It is my best time since The Flu started, by close to a minute! Laurens finished about two minutes later in 53rd place, out of 253 finishers.

    There are no clear answers about why I was able to improve my time by so much. My speed session on Thursday had to be terminated prematurely, as I simply could not maintain the pace for another repetition. Nevertheless, perhaps those weekly speed sessions are finally bearing fruit. Maybe I will eventually get my race times to a respectable level again.

    I've finally left the entry level on the Parkrun "Most Events" list, with 31 events. Perhaps we can add another two or so during the December break. Who knows, if I gain a little more speed and keep up the training, maybe I'll even get to the point where I could consider joining that annual accompanied walk between Durban and Pietermaritzburg in 2022...

    The Good: Nice flat route in green surroundings.

    The Bad: Inadequate distance markers. I only saw 2 and 5 km.

    The Ugly: Why are those legs so sluggish early in the morning?

    Back to Index

    Voortrekker Monument Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2021-11-27 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive a real half marathon for the first time since The Flu. 2:10 would be nice.

    My Club advised us this week that races are gradually starting to appear on the calendar again. This Saturday would see a half marathon at the Voortrekker Monument. I didn't get around to doing anything about it until Friday. By then, Walter, Ken and Hanri all had other plans. Laurens was game, but online entries had closed. A phone call to the organiser revealed that they were accepting entries at the venue until 14:00. Laurens volunteered to go there, and delivered my entry to my office during the afternoon.

    My classmates dragged things out after the previous night's class, and I only got to bed around 23:00. Strangely enough, I was awake when the alarm clock went at 04:50. I bounced out of bed, careened to the venue, found parking about 300 m from the line and realised that I could have slept at least another 15 minutes. I ambled up to the line, meeting only two familiar faces. It felt bitterly cold, even though the temperature showed 13°C. The gusty wind and the occasional drizzle must have made things worse. I briefly chatted to De Wet and Iain while feeling very sorry for myself.

    The start was a few minutes late. An estimated 200 runners started in a single bunch, even though a mat-to-mat start had been advertised. I had to restrain myself, as several dozen runners surged ahead. My restraint wasn't effective enough, with 1 km flashing by in under 5:30. I would have to slow down if I didn't want to blow up spectacularly. Given last week's surprising 6:00/km finish over a slightly shorter distance, I was hopeful I might be able to maintain something in that ballpark. 5:30 was definitely overdoing things. We circled the Monument before passing the water point and commencing a steep descent. 2 km went by around 11:30—a much more sustainable pace. We descended for about 1 km before turning around. The loop gave me a good look at the field, both ahead and behind. A very young girl was in second place, looking comfortable. I wondered if she could sustain it. De Wet was well ahead of me. Iain and Laurens were well behind. We returned to the water point before turning right and scaling Schanskop hill. The Voortrekker Monument was built on a site that dominates the Pretoria skyline. Before it, Fort Schanskop had been built to dominate the southern approaches to Pretoria. These are serious hills. Conversation subsided as we climbed. At the highest point inside the fort, there is a narrow gap through which we had to pass in single file. A runner sprinted past me to enter the gap first. I thought that The Sprinter would later pay for his exuberance.

    After circling the fort and descending back to the water point, we turned right towards the amphitheatre. The steep downhill pounded our legs. Never mind how tough it was, I knew that it was going to be worse coming back. At the lowest point, we made a brief circuit on dirt tracks before commencing the steep climb to the amphitheatre. Inside it, we climbed almost all the way to the top before traversing a contour and descending all the way down again. Back on the tar road, we grunted up the impossibly steep climb. A sign announced Slagtersnek. How apt—we were indeed like sheep being led to the slaughter. Nevertheless, two women were chatting incessantly as we walked up the hill. I envied them. I had no breath to spare. At the top of the climb, we again passed the water point, completing our three-leaf clover. We turned right to pass the 10 km mark at 1:04. I envied the 10 km runners, who could now relax. I wasn't feeling fresh, but I could definitely face another round. Meeting my goal of 2:10 was unlikely, though. I would have to trim about four minutes off my second lap, and it wasn't looking likely.

    The loop around the Monument is relatively flat and went by uneventfully. We turned right into the valley. The young girl was still in second place, looking strong. I wondered where we were going to add the 1,1 km to make up the extra distance on the second lap. I was soon to find out. We turned much later this time, descending all the way into Fountains Valley. A gorgeous young woman from the Vaal Triangle passed a male runner, stroking his buttock as she passed. I wondered what that would do to a man's motivation. As we mostly walked up that horrible hill, I passed the woman. No, she didn't. Damn. De Wet was about 1 km ahead. Laurens and Iain were a similar distance behind. The rest of the race was fairly uneventful. I passed the 19 km mark in the amphitheatre at two hours. Given the horrible hill climb that sill lay ahead, I would be lucky to make 2:15. The Sprinter came down the hill, more than a km behind me. Clearly, he was paying the price for his early exuberance. There was almost no conversation up that last hill. I just walked, resuming my run as we passed the water point for the last time. I'd forgotten how steep that last bit to the line was. I was grateful to finish at around 2:15:30.

    I'm not sure what to think. My time in an embarrassment, but then it is my first formal half marathon in more than a year and a half, and it is not exactly flat. I suppose the late date for Comrades 2022 makes it less of a crisis than it would have been in a normal year. I suppose I'll have to aim for a faster half marathon around January. Time will tell.

    Postscript: The results show that the young girl did indeed keep it up to the finish. She apparently passed the leader on the final stretch to win in just over 1:30. It also shows something less pleasant. Both Laurens and I were in the last half of the bunch, as well as our own age category. I can think of two possibilities. One is that only hard-core runners are pitching up for these initial races. The other is that we have decayed even more than we realised...

    The Good: Great to be back in a real road race. Great distance markers—I saw all of them. No water sachets and no paper cups.

    The Bad: Did we really have to descend all the way into the valley?

    The Ugly: 2:15? Really?

    Back to Index

    Wild Hearts Trail Run, Saturday 2021-11-13 at 07:15

    Goal: Survive, hopefully not far outside 6:00/km.

    The usual Saturday morning run was going to be a little different this week. Ken advised on Friday morning that the usual group plus a few more hangers-on would be doing the Wild Hearts Trail Run at Cowhouse. I was invited. I conspired with Laurens and Alet, as there were also some shorter options available. Unfortunately, pre-entries were through EntryNinja. As usual, their credit card portal did not work. After exchanging several emails with a tinpot dictator, I gave up. Nevertheless, it irks me to have to fork out a R 30 penalty on an already stiff entry fee because their system malfunctioned!

    Alet chickened out at the last moment, leaving me and Laurens to depart from Alet's house at 06:30. Time was tight, but we found parking fairly close and I paid my entry fee to another tinpot dictator who demanded personal information that I was not about to disclose. At 07:15, we were lined up by a third tinpot dictator who made the announcements through a bullhorn. His long-winded explanations and his patronising interaction with his audience suggested a background as a nursery school teacher. Clearly, he is accustomed to being the cleverest in the room. My fellow runners seemed serious. They sported fancy shoes and lots of kit, including Camelbacks. Not a good omen for someone in casual attire and with limited trail running experience...

    The relatively small bunch started inside the Cowhouse about five minutes late. About a dozen people surged ahead. We soon settled into a steady rhythm, on windy paths through dense vegetation. Passing was not easy, so I let through a few individuals who clearly had no idea that 15 km still lay ahead. I followed a middle-aged woman with a Camelback on uneven terrain. I had no indication of distance, using my stopwatch as an estimate instead. I hoped to finish inside 100 minutes. After 10 minutes, we were running in a shadowy forest on a river bank. Everything was slightly wet from recent rain. Occasional mountain bikes sped past. She soon left me behind, and I found myself running in solitude. In the dense vegetation, I could not see any other runners. I kept pushing, occasionally walking to regain my breath. A younger woman in a bright pink shirt sailed past. In a rare moment of self-flattery, I thought of Pinky and the Brain. We passed under the N4 highway, gradually descending into the valley. At 20 minutes, we passed through a large open field. I could barely see a group of five runners about 300 m ahead. Pinky was second in the group, clearly working her way to the front. A few runners were strung out about 300 m behind me. We were gradually climbing. Over a period of about 15 minutes, I gradually overtook a younger man in grey. While circumnavigating a dam, I noticed a turn to the right. I almost missed it, being focused on pursuing Earl Grey and probably a little low on glycogen. Earl Grey completely missed it. I yelled at him, causing him to turn around. He was now pursuing me around the dam. As he came close, I heard him panting like a steam train. He was hopelessly anaerobic. We passed through a quarry before turning right under the N4. Emerging from the underpass, we ran up a long ramp. A water point was poised tantalisingly at the top of the ramp. The temperature was rising relentlessly, and I was looking forward to something to drink. As I came closer, I noticed a steel gate between me and the tent. At the gate, there was a sign indicating a turn to the right. How cruel! At least we were well over an hour, leaving less than a third of the route ahead. Earl Grey was now well behind me, with no runners in sight ahead. The terrain was fairly even. I walked occasionally, but managed to make good progress.

    85 minutes. We were now close to the Cowhouse. A tall blonde joined the route from the right. I wondered if I might be hallucinating. I wondered how we would keep going for more than 10 minutes in the limited space. Suddenly, there was a plaque labelled "Finish Line". What a pleasant surprise! Completely unexpectedly, I finished in under 90 minutes. I stood in a queue after the finish line. No-one looked very certain of what to do. Eventually, someone motioned me to a scanner to tap my card. It was past 90 minutes. It was a little disappointing, but then my expectations of Bouttime were not very high to begin with. As I least I know I did it, deep down inside...

    Neville and Sonja had left. Earl Grey finished about a minute behind me. At least I was able to tell him to tap his card. I chatted to him about aerobic action and breathing. He divulged that he was a smoker. What more could I say?

    Ken finished about five minutes behind me, looking relaxed. Jane and Mark cruised home another five minutes later. Laurens came home another 10 minutes behind them. According to the results, I was 12th, Ken was 16th and the others were 20th to 22nd in a field of 26. Clearly, trail runners are much more serious than road runners. In road races, I would expect to be in the top 10% of the field. Here, I barely made it into the top half! But then, anyone who can swallow all the abuse involved in enrolling to a BoutTime event must have exceptional grit...

    The Good: A scenic route in lush surroundings. Fairly level terrain.

    The Bad: The temperature was 32°C when I got back into my car.

    The Ugly: Being abused by EntryNinja and BoutTime. I look forward to the resumption of some events with actual organisation.

    Back to Index

    Heidelberg Parkrun, Saturday 2021-10-16 at 08:00

    Goal: My 30th new Parkrun location, a spot on the international Parkrun tourism list and hopefully a sub-27 finish.

    Finally, the end is in sight. Today, Laurens and Alet should complete their 20th different Parkrun, earning them a spot on the South African list for Most Events. I should complete number 30, earning me a spot on the equivalent international list. I collected Alet at 06:00 and Laurens at 06:18 as agreed. After an uneventful trip, we arrived at the venue near Heidelberg around 07:30. Only a few cars had arrived. To my amazement, the Parkrun was right next to the field where I had landed in a hot air balloon a few weeks ago. Some locals briefed us on the route. It was a little hillier than I would have preferred. Laurens and I set off along the course, walking out and jogging back. A young girl was leading a horse down the path. I tried to negotiate a rental contract. She was not interested. How selfish.

    We arrived in time for the briefing, which was done through a Tannoy-like bullhorn and barely intelligible. Few runners wore masks. There were dozens of dogs. We set off exactly at 08:00. Unlike most Parkruns, only a few youngsters surged ahead. I was initially third, but after about 500 m I settled into seventh spot. The 1 km mark came at 5:05, a little too fast. We passed some amazing excavations, running on an embankment for most of the first km. We then started a descent towards the public road, reaching 2 km at 10:05. A young girl and a young boy cracked and started walking. I jostled for position with a teenager and was eventually overtaken by an older man. I could not keep track of my position in the field; probably a sign of low glycogen. I guess I should have eaten something after getting out of bed.

    After running parallel to the road for some distance, we turned left and started up the hill. I walked intermittently. The 3 km mark came at about 15:40, more or less on pace. I walked and jogged to the 4 km mark, passing it around 21:30. The final stretch to the finish line would be along the embankment, slightly downhill. Half a dozen horses stood watching us. A teenager slipped past, asking directions. I tried to keep up, but couldn't. I finished just behind the teenager, in just under 27 minutes. I watched as Laurens finished about two minutes behind me. He begged for money to buy his drug of choice (a small restaurant seemed to offer coffee) while I retraced the route to find Alet. I found her on the dam wall, walking the last few hundred metres back to the finish. We ambled back to the car and returned home, stopping briefly for a very disappointing attempt at breakfast.

    We're finally there! Both Laurens and Alet have appeared on the South African list. I've appeared on the international list. Now we can relax. Within two weeks, more Parkruns should open up. Perhaps when more events are open, with less driving involved, we'll pick up a few more.

    If you don't "get" this Parkrun thing, maybe this explanation will help you.

    The Good: A well-marked Parkrun. Weird excavations to gawk at. Three of us all reaching significant milestones.

    The Bad: I'm not getting any faster.

    The Ugly: That breakfast stop, where we had to choose between white bread and going hungry.

    Back to Index

    Middelburg Parkrun, Saturday 2021-10-09 at 08:00

    Goal: A new Parkrun location, and hopefully a sub-27 finish.

    Parkrun announced some weeks ago that about 50 Parkruns would open up on -10-09. Laurens and I both looked for options. Laurens identified Lenasia and Heidelberg, while I thought that Heidelberg and Middelburg would be options. Given that I'd been in Heidelberg a few weeks back and that I had some family roots in Middelburg, I argued for a visit to Middelburg.

    Although Lenasia is closer, we could not be certain that it would take place. We therefore all met at Alet's house to depart at 05:43:21. Laurens arrived a few minutes late, and we set off in Ken's car. The journey took a little less time than Google had indicated, and we arrived just before 07:30. Laurens and I set off, backtracking the route to just past the 4 km mark. We bumped into one of the volunteers who was patrolling the route and unlocking the gates. He was accompanied by a black Labrador. The trail winds through wide open fields with tall thatch, but the paths themselves were trimmed to within millimetres of the ground, golfing tee-like. I still wonder how they did it. Many antelope tracks were imprinted in the ground. We jogged back to the finish line. It was tortuous, with an unrelenting uphill grade that would definitely prove tedious during the Parkrun.

    The announcements were short and to the point, with some light-hearted banter included. As far as I could see, all the runners were masked. We started on time, heading downhill for the first 3 km. As always, there was a bunch of youngsters that started really, really fast. I settled into 13th place. The first km flashed by in 4:32, too fast for normal pace, but probably about right for the downhill grade. I knew I was going to lose some time on the way back. We cruised past a farmhouse where a family sat on the veranda, idly looking at the passing crowd. We passed several small ponds surrounded by tall grass. The 2 km mark went by at 9:30, about right for the conditions. I gradually made my way up to 10th place. The black dog was running up and down the group, constantly retracing his steps. I suppose the dog didn't understand the implications of that looming uphill. We went around a larger dam, crossing the dam wall before turning left to pass through the fence and commencing the uphill portion. The 3 km mark came just after 15:00. By now, we were on the relentless uphill. I jostled for position with two runners who were alternating between running and walking, just like I was. The 4 km mark went by around 21:30. Breaking 27 minutes would be tough. We passed through a forest, where the track narrowed to under 1 m and the surface was rougher. I gradually slid back to 14th place, finishing around 27:46. I told the official that 14 was my lucky number, and that I wanted number 14. He looked a little surprised when he noticed that 14 was the next in sequence.

    None of my companions had arrived, so I backtracked down the route for the second time that day. Most of the runners coming up the hill looked grimly determined. I lightened the mood by telling them that the boring flat part was over, and that only 3 km remained. Some of them looked amused. I passed first Laurens and then Ken, who was doing his race-walking thing. It took a long time before I encountered Alet, who was walking with an elderly man. He had an interesting story to tell. During March 2020, he did his 249th Parkrun. He was at the verge of joining the 250 Club. It was not to be. Some guy announced on TV that we had to stay home for a while, and the Middelburg Parkrun went into hibernation for the next 18 months. With the reopening, he was finally getting his chance to complete number 250. Like most of us, he had lost a lot of ground in the lockdown, finishing almost 13 minutes later than his previous attempt. The volunteers welcomed him with a large banner, with congratulations all round.

    Laurens had disappeared. We looked for him all over and then tried to phone him. Finally, he came up the hill, looking suitably flattened. He had decided to take a second lap. His plan had gone awry, as the tail walker had locked several gates along the route. We jumped into Ken's car and headed home, stopping in Middelburg for a quick look at my great-grandfather's handiwork and at a stop on the freeway for some munchies. I arrived a few minutes late for my next appointment.

    I've now completed 29 different Parkruns. Both Laurens and Alet have completed 19 locally. Just one more, and we'll all achieve our goals in one fell swoop. If all goes according to plan, by next week I should appear on the international list, while both Laurens and Alet should appear on the South African list. After an 18 month hiatus, the end is finally in sight.

    The Good: A well-marked Parkrun and perfectly manicured route in rustic surroundings. The opportunity to see some family roots.

    The Bad: That nagging uphill to the finish.

    The Ugly: 27:46...

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    Leeupoort Parkrun, Saturday 2021-09-11 at 08:00

    Goal: A new Parkrun location, and hopefully a sub-27 finish.

    With the Kameeldoring Parkrun out of the way, only one Parkrun within reach of Gauteng remains open. Leeupoort has been somewhat sporadic, so I spent some time sleuthing during the week. With help from Gerrie, Tobie and Chrissie I became reasonably certain that the event would indeed take place, so we decided to give it a go.

    Laurens dutifully collected Alet and me at 05:20. I fitfully slept in the back of the car while they chatted. We arrived almost an hour early, having travelled almost 20 minutes less than my computer had predicted. Accordingly, we walked a portion of the route to warm up. We passed a monster truck, apparently used for game viewing, and numerous antelope and zebras. They were completely unafraid, clearly not accustomed to hostile humans. I found myself wondering where the lions were (Leeupoort means something like "Lion Gap").

    The briefing started around 07:55, and we started about a minute late. A youngster wearing an Iron Mountain club shirt surged ahead, followed by a man in bright orange. After about 300 m, we settled into a steady rhythm, with me in third place. I passed 1 km at 5:05, slightly faster than ideal, but within the right range. 2 km came at 10:30, just about exactly right. Prins Willem lost steam shortly thereafter. I followed Iron at a respectful distance, meandering among the houses and the trees. The road surface was sandy in places, making for tough going here and there. Near what I estimated to be the halfway mark, Iron started walking. I sailed past, now in the lead. I never saw the 3 km marker, but the pace remained reasonably comfortable. The route was well marked, and I never lost time due to route uncertainty. The 4 km mark came at 21:10. No-one was in sight behind me. I had a euphoric feeling that I might actually win a Parkrun. It was not to be. Soon, a young girl, probably not yet 10, cruised past. I asked her if she was in the Parkrun. I received a curt "yes" in return. I managed to keep up for a while, but it was soon clear that I could not maintain the pace. She gradually opened up a gap, finishing perhaps 200 m in front of me in a headlong dash that I could not emulate. I finished in about 26:30. Prins Willem followed almost a minute later. Iron was in fifth place, another minute later. Laurens was in eighth place, about three minutes behind me.

    Laurens and I retraced the route, teasing Parkrunners with inappropriate comments as we went. There were many other runners too, and the odd cyclist. Around where the 3 km marker should have been, we encountered the tail walker. Alet was nowhere to be seen. Laurens spoke to her on the phone. She'd lost the route, and was near the library. I asked a resident, who directed me to the library in a posh English accent that seemed grossly out of place in these earthy surroundings. Alet was well off the route, and not far from the finish. I led her back to the route, rejoining near the 4 km mark. I went ahead to warn the officials that another participant was behind the tail walker. I reached the finish with the tail walker. It turned out that Prins Willem and the tail walker were Iron's parents. Iron and I ran back along the route to fetch Alet. After she'd finished, we tackled the long route home, stopping at Bela-Bela for a hearty breakfast before arriving home almost exactly in time for my next appointment.

    The Good: A well-marked Parkrun route. Reasonably level terrain. Beautiful nature and lots of animals to observe.

    The Bad: Again, a lot of driving. Let's hope more Parkruns reopen soon.

    The Ugly: Being deprived of my 15 minutes of fame by a young lass whose height doesn't quite reach my belly button...

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    Kameeldoring Parkrun, Saturday 2021-08-28 at 07:00

    Goal: A new Parkrun location, and hopefully a sub-30 finish.

    With The Flu continuing to take its toll, both formal road races and Parkruns continue to be few and far between. I was therefore pleasantly surprised to learn from Laurens that some Parkruns were back in operation. As a matter of principle, though, Parkrun would not publish a list of available Parkruns, hoping to avoid those Parkruns being inundated by tourists hungry to return to the fray. It therefore took considerable effort to identify the closest Parkrun that would be open. As luck would have it, that Parkrun coincided with the local running of the Dawn to Dusk. This relay race used to be run as a single event in Pretoria, but now apparently consists of many regional races, all with a common set of results.

    Laurens and I both need four Parkruns to reach our respective goals on the events ranking. In my case, I've been stuck with 26 Parkrun locations for well over a year. Just another four, and I can join the international ranking list at its entry level. It was high time that we start getting the opportunity to add to our totals again.

    A phone call to Elizna confirmed that both the Parkrun and the Dawn to Dusk would indeed be run on this Saturday, at the same venue! A plan was therefore hatched to make the trip, run the Parkrun, spend some time jogging around the Dawn to Dusk course with Elizna and then return for other commitments later in the day. It was going to be a tall order, involving considerable driving. Nevertheless, we approached Walter, Ken, Alet and Hanri. None of them were available. I collected Laurens at 04:30. A two-hour drive later, we walked into the country club venue. I was surprised to hear my name emanating from a huge pile of baby bedding being carried by a woman. Elizna led us to their tent. Laurens and I ran once around the 1 km course to warm up before reporting for the announcements. These started exactly at 07:00. The announcements were concise, and we started just a few minutes late. The usual headlong rush started westbound on a slight downhill. I settled into tenth position, just behind Laurens. Within about 500 m, three small children came to a standstill, leaving Laurens and me in sixth and seventh positions. Around the 800 m mark, Laurens slowed down drastically, and I gradually crawled past. I maintained my pace, shooting past the 1 km mark in just under five minutes. I was happy as I was on track for my sub-30 finish, but was concerned that I was taking more strain than I had been hoping for.

    I soon realised that my limited exposure to Parkruns and races in the past 18 months had taken its toll. I did not need to maintain a sub-5:00/km pace, but instead only a sub-6:00/km pace. Five fives did not make thirty! I was relieved, and slightly backed off on the pace. Number Five ahead of me was in dark blue, perhaps 200 m ahead. I was not catching up with him. Laurens was occasionally visible a similar distance behind me. The course changed from slightly downhill to slightly uphill. I cruised past the 2 km marker in just under ten minutes. I was taking strain, with my breathing indicating that I was just barely aerobic. I turned left into the loop. Dark Blue was still there, resisting all my efforts to catch him. I occasionally started walking to catch my breath. Halfway through the loop, Dark Blue veered off to the right. I continued to follow the markers, turning left across a small bridge. I was now in fifth place. A young child sailed past. It was Dark Blue. Just after the 3 km mark, we were joined by dozens of runners and walkers on the same course. They peeled off to the left just before the 4 km mark. I was consistently losing time relative to my 5:00/km pace, passing 4 km at 21 minutes. I was now hoping to finish below 27 minutes. I mostly ran and occasionally walked briefly, just to catch my breath. Dark Blue finished perhaps 60 m ahead of me. I finished around 26:40, followed by another man in black perhaps a minute behind, followed by Laurens another minute back.

    We joined Elizna's group under the tent. I ran a total of five laps at a leisurely pace, mostly with Elizna, while Laurens ran by himself for perhaps 10 laps. After enjoying the hosts' hospitality, we left around 09:00 for the long return trip. A leisurely breakfast at a roadside stop completed the expedition.

    The Good: A well-marked Parkrun route. Reasonably level terrain.

    The Bad: A lot of driving. Let's hope more Parkruns reopen soon.

    The Ugly: Discovering in the results that my nemesis Dark Blue has yet to turn 10...

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    MiWay Wally Hayward Virtual Marathon, 32 km, Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2021-05-22 at 06:30

    Goal: Run a half marathon without disintegrating.

    It's been well over a year since the last official race, and two years since the previous Wally Hayward. Last year's race was prevented from taking place by the CoViD-19 lockdown. Although I've been running fairly regularly, the announcement of an almost-real Wally Hayward for this year came as a welcome surprise—and a bit of a challenge.

    No fixed start date or time was announced, neither was a start or finish venue. Instead, a series of routes were published for 10, 21, 32 and 42 km. Participants could run these routes any time during May. On weekends, water refill points would be provided. With these arrangements in place, it was unlikely that an unmanageable crowd would arrive at the same place at the same time. Ken, Walter, Laurens and I decided to give it a try. Because of the Prep Run early in the month, we were inclined towards the end of May, preferably on a weekend. To my surprise, Walter and Ken ran the 32 km race around mid-month. Laurens and I decided on Saturday 22 May.

    Due to a hectic fortnight at work, some other commitments and a debilitating non-running injury, the date snuck up on me unnoticed. On Friday, Laurens asked me if I had entered yet. I hadn't. I tried, but couldn't. The registration system was on some weird Website that I'd never heard of, yet claimed that my email address was already enrolled. They must have changed its name somewhere along the line and relied on psychic ability to enable us to log in. I enrolled using another email address. This time, it would not accept my credit card. I sent an email to the organisers. Francois answered that he would help me the following morning. I agreed with Laurens that I'd meet him there at 06:20 for a 06:30 start, too early for my liking but early enough to ensure that the hectic schedule for the rest of the day would not be squeezed too much.

    I arrived around 06:15, found parking with 50 m of the start banner and found Francois, who helped me to enrol for the half marathon. At least they accepted my cash. It was bitterly cold. I saw several familiar faces (or at least the upper half of several faces), including Elaine, Willie and Suzette.

    We were on the road just before 06:30. We were not in a bunch, but there were runners ahead and behind us within earshot. We cruised through Clubview towards the Centurion Mall, occasionally being passed by small groups of runners. There were no distance markers, but I had printed the route on paper, which I occasionally pulled out to consult. There were also no traffic or race officials. We were just slightly slower than 6:00/km, but faster than the 6:30/km that Laurens had programmed into his fancy watch. As is often the case, Laurens left me behind on the downhill grades, leaving me to catch up on the uphills. We cruised through Doringkloof and Lyttelton Manor, arriving at the entrance to the Waterkloof Air Force Base around the 13 km mark. We then slid down the M10. I had obviously taken my hydration too seriously, and was looking for a place with enough cover to make a pit stop. I finally found one on the M10. When I re-joined the trickle of runners, Laurens was barely visible in the distance. Three girls and a large dog were running in front of me. The idea of being dragged along by a dog appealed to me right then. Approaching the N14, Laurens was a full minute ahead. Crossing the Gautrain track at the 17 km mark, the gap was around 50 s. I was in trouble, as a long downhill lay ahead and he has a tremendous downhill advantage. There was little prospect of catching him, so I decided just to try to limit the deficit.

    Turning left into Clubview, I passed the 19 km mark at two hours, for an average pace of 6:20/km. We were slower than I'd hoped, but I suppose a break of more than a year is no success recipe. We were passing many slower runners, presumably those on the 10 km route. I walked occasionally to ease the discomfort. I finished just over 2:13. After greeting Laurens, I dashed off to face the day. I drove back along the M10, and saw just a trickle of runners. It was clear that most of the runners had shared our idea, starting and finishing not too far from our own times.

    It was fun to run an almost-real race again. I'm satisfied that we didn't get exposed too much. I suppose we'll all watch for flu symptoms in the next week or two, but I'm optimistic that we got away with it. I look forward to a time when we might be able to resume our weekly habit of a brisk Saturday morning run.

    The Good: Great to be back on the road again with an almost-real road race.

    The Bad: Slooooooooow.

    The Ugly: Why is 21,1 km so much further than it used to be?

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    Comrades Virtual Prep Run, Saturday 2021-05-08 at 07:00

    Goal: Try to survive 30 km.

    I'm not sure why I allow myself to be dragged into these things. Had the prompting not come from a nubile 30-year old, I might not have succumbed. Nevertheless, I looked forward to the first "race" in almost 14 months. I arrived at the start with minutes to spare, immediately found parking right there and joined the bunch. Perhaps a hundred runners listened to the starting announcements, and we were off. I would estimate that less than a quarter of the runners were masked. Fortunately, the bunch thinned out quite quickly.

    The idea was to attempt six laps of 5 km each in very flat terrain. It doesn't sound like a tall order, but given that I last exceeded 25 km more than 14 months ago, it wasn't going to be easy either. The past week has been a handful, with long workdays and short nights. As Hanri had run 15 km on the same course in a blistering 1:22 not long ago, and as I fancied myself as actually being able to keep up with her, I thought that 6:00/km would be a reasonable pace to maintain. I was prepared to give myself some leeway, but I was really hoping we could finish in three hours.

    We started off well enough. I was a little breathless, but eventually settled into a comfortable rhythm. Some light banter was exchanged in the bunch, but after about 3 km we were running more or less alone. I noticed that the neighbourhood needed some cleaning up, but did not want to get started on the first lap. We completed the lap very close to the planned 30 minutes. Everything was on track.

    The second lap was more or less the same, except that I started working on cleaning up the neighbourhood. Each time I stopped to do some cleaning, Hanri built up a lead which I had to laboriously retrieve. At one point, we passed Hanri's aunt, walking the street in the opposite direction. We more or less kept up the pace, completing the second lap after an hour. Everything was still on track. We stopped for some drinks and continued.

    The third lap was more of the same, except that Hanri started asking questions about the street names. Pierre van Ryneveld Park was named after General Sir Pierre van Ryneveld Park, the founder of the South African Air Force. Accordingly, the streets are mostly named for aircraft that form part of the Air Force's history. We mostly ran out on Mustang and returned on Spitfire. I found myself having to relate the history of these illustrious aircraft and others. I think it was a nefarious plan to get me onto the back foot, gasping for breath while she was comfortably cruising along. I was alarmed to notice that we passed the halfway mark at 1:27, about three minutes too early. I remembered the stern admonition that Bruce Fordyce always delivered, outlining the disastrous consequences of exuberance in the first half. I hoped it wasn't going to bite us. Unfortunately, my calf and hamstring muscles hinted that it might. Hanri took a pit stop, while I continued ahead to clean up some more.

    Hanri caught me around the 17 km mark, steaming past shoulder to shoulder with another woman. I tried to keep up, but had some trouble getting started. We arrived about three minutes late at the end of the fourth lap, having lost six minutes including the pit stop. It wasn't a good sign at all. My legs were really complaining. The good news was that we passed the half marathon mark around 2:06, giving Hanri a new personal best performance over that distance. At about that point, I found myself unable to keep up. At one point, Hanri had built up a lead of more than 100 m. She looked around to see where I was. I waved her on, not wanting to spoil her 30 km attempt. I noticed some dark cloud rolling in from the south. It seemed like we might well get wet. Sure enough, around the 22 km mark, the drops started falling around me. By 23 km, I was completely drenched. I tried to avoid the deep puddles, but it was getting harder and harder. Eventually, I was completely soaked from head to toe. I could no longer run continuously, walking about half the time. I decided that I would withdraw at the end of the lap and become a moving second from the comfort of my car. It was not to be. When I arrived at the end of the lap, Hanri was sporting a warm jacket, looking very comfortable under one of the tents. Clearly, she had also decided to withdraw. I tried my hand at being a motivational speaker, failing dismally.

    We walked back to our cars, chatting all the while. We departed for home, with both of us talking of various gastronomic delights and with me fantasising of a hot bath.

    I am a little disappointed, as I figured that I could survive 30 km intact. I suppose I could have, but I would rather not face the prospect of a weeks-long recovery right now. The prospect of the Wally Hayward virtual race looms large. I was originally thinking of a half marathon towards the end of the month, but Walter and Ken are talking about next weekend. We'll see.

    The Good: My first race (almost) in 14 months. Little traffic, pleasant environs and flat terrain (something that is not easy to come by in the Pretoria area!).

    The Bad: Getting soaked, including my shoes.

    The Ugly: The combined effects of the relentlessly-increasing age and the lack of races are not doing me any favours!

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    2020 Races

    CoViD-19 Lockdown Phase 5, 2020-03-27 to 2020-04-30

    Goal: Try not to turn into a bag of lard while confined to home.

    In March 2021, the government announced a lockdown to restrict the proliferation of CoViD-19. We all had to sit in our houses, emerging only to shop for essentials. Most shops sold only essentials, mostly food.

    Iím too lazy to run. Thatís why I entered for Comrades 2020. I know that I have to do an obscene amount of training to have the merest chance of not wasting my entry fee, so I actually do train (most weeks). Itís therefore no surprise that I wanted to keep my hopes alive during the lockdown, despite the restriction on public exercise.

    Itís also no surprise that I lost all motivation when it became clear towards the end of April that Comrades was not going to happen, and turned into a bag of lard. What is there to do, except eat?

    Nevertheless, the lockdown wasnít a total waste from a running point of view. I get bored easily, so I wasnít going to get involved in one of the many virtual races being organised on the Internet, doing umpteen laps of the 800 m circumference of my plot. Besides, I would have to cut the grass and smooth the surface if I didnít want to destroy my foot ligaments. I had to find a better way to get the blood pumping.

    I found two solutions. The first was to commission the treadmill that has been languishing in that seldom-visited part of the house. I had to significantly rearrange things to make space to deploy its bed. Now if you enjoy being bored stiff while dripping with copious amounts of sweat, I can recommend a treadmill. There is nothing like watching the water level in the room rise while staying in one place for an hour or two. Despite the restrictions on things you could buy during the lockdown, I found a pharmacy that could sell me a fan to dry things up somewhat. If boredom and dripping sweat are not enough for you, there is another drawback: You can measure exactly how much you have decayed. My treadmill sessions amply proved that point.

    My other solution was definitely more satisfactory: I used my shopping trips as a way to get some exercise during Phase 5. The nearest shops are about 6 km from home by the shortest route. Although leaving home to shop for food was perfectly legal, I did not want to invite a debate with law enforcement. With my well-worn long-sleeved button-up office shirt, my khaki hat, a tattered backpack and my most worn shoes, it would be obvious to the most casual observer that I am not an athlete—for the few observers that couldnít tell anyway by just looking at my physique. In fact, the casual observer might even have wondered whether I was a hobo, or just a plot dweller with a distinct lack of sartorial elegance.

    In the first week or two, very few cars were on the road. Despite being on the road for over an hour on my first shopping trip, I saw only three cars. I used the opportunity for some fartlek; a brisk walk when cars were passing and a furious sprint when they werenít. Or at least some of the time. In the second week, I noticed two motorists taking pictures of me, presumably as part of a heroic whistle-blowing effort.

    As time passed, people became more daring, and the traffic was back to almost-normal by late April.

    The Police stopped me twice. They appeared happy with my explanation that I was on my way to shop for food, and waved me on.

    I learned two life lessons.

    1. I can carry up to 2 kg of shopping, but it badly disrupts my running style. Iím not sure how beneficial the training is if your style is disrupted like that. Also, the extra weight seems to cause a lot of walking on the way back. Iím also wary about the devastating psychological effect of those seven-something splits in my running logbook.

    2. Backpacks ainít what they used to be. My primary backpack needed some repairs involving yarn, staples and glue after only a few shopping trips. I decided that it was too tatty even for a hobo, so I commissioned a pristine hitherto-unused but rather old backpack that emerged from a cupboard. This fancy backpack split into two before I got home on the first trip. I reverted to the tried and tested one with the makeshift repairs. One of the first items on my post-incarceration shopping list is a decent running backpack that can carry 2 kg without disintegrating.

    Iím afraid all these plans didnít fully overcome my natural sloth. My worst week produced a measly 5 km, although I can honestly claim that it was a work-week from hell. My best week produced 50 km, with a weekly average of about 34 km. It wasn't going to suffice for Comrades in June, so I suppose it was with some relief that I heard in late April that Comrades was not going to happen this year.

    The less restrictive Phase 4 started at the beginning of May. I soon returned to a more normal rhythm. Still, the rules restricted us to exercise only between 06:00 and 09:00 every day, and only within 5 km of home. The first few days were amazing. I have never seen so many pedestrians in a city street. Even out here in the countryside, the road surface was filled with hundreds of walkers, runners and cyclists. Still, I found the fact that us night owls were being forced into a lark routine most unfair. Others must have thought so too, as the numbers dwindled within days.

    There isn't a total lack of incentive to keep going, though. After only a few days of inactivity, my left knee started stiffening up. As the restrictions were further relaxed at the beginning of June, I resumed a more normal afternoon running schedule. Almost immediately, I was more mobile again. I suppose I'll have to keep going, whether I like it or not!

    The Good: My first opportunity to be a full-time athlete.

    The Bad: A noticeable decline in fitness despite my best efforts.

    The Ugly: Running is not a lot of fun with 2 kg of shopping bobbing up and down on your back.

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    Om die Dorp 10 km and Half Marathon, Saturday 2020-03-14 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive the half marathon.

    Today, the main event is the Om die Dam ultra-marathon. As an alternative, Om die Dorp is much closer to home. For the linguistically challenged, Om die Dam means "around the lake", and takes place around Hartebeestpoort Dam. Om die Dorp means "around the village", and takes place in Pierre van Ryneveld Park.

    Last year, I had to leave early, so I did the 10 km race, with some running on my own before the start. This time, I wanted to do the half marathon. I wasn't certain about the outcome, though. I've had some trouble in the last few weeks. After abandoning last week's half marathon halfway (huh?), things got even worse. On Tuesday, I could not make it from my car to my office due to the pain. My left leg was practically paralysed. In desperation, I visited Pauline, who wrestled me to the ground to the sound of crackling vertebrae. I'm practically as good as new. Nevertheless, my training programme is waaay behind schedule, and I have to get on the road again.

    I got up at 04:50 and easily found my way to the start venue. I found parking in the same vacant property as last year, about 500 m from the start. The entry was quick and painless, and I spent a few minutes at the Club tent and chatting to Deon. I started in the back of the bunch, looking in vain for Louw and Laurens. The start signal was on time, but it took half a minute to start moving and more than 90 s to start jogging. As I settled into a nice rhythm, Deon appeared next to me. I was surprised, as he had wanted to join some runners further up the bunch. Apparently, he got distracted by a tree. The 1 km mark passed at about eight minutes. Deon and I chatted for the next half hour or so, maintaining a gentle 6:10/km pace. There was a lot of banter in the bunch about CoViD-19. Not everyone was amused when I occasionally sneezed. At least I was.

    The previous year's 10 km route was completely flat. I assumed the same would be true for the half marathon. Around the 10 km mark, which we passed at 1:04, I realised that I hadn't taken a walk break. I don't recall having run continuously for an hour in several years. I guess a snail's pace does have its advantages. We had now diverged from the 10 km route, and were doing numerous out-and-back loops. There must have been at least eight. It was nice to see who was in the bunch ahead of me, and behind. Gerrit was always just a few minutes ahead, and Deon eventually started lagging behind by a similar amount. My peers were well ahead, as I would have expected. I continued jogging until the 16 km mark. By this time, I was well beyond the point that I would have elected to walk, but kept up the running just for the heck of it. It all came to an abrupt end just after the 16 km mark, though, with a series of short, sharp climbs. I had to walk in self defence. Gerrit came into view ahead. I was keen to catch him, but was tired and slightly sore in my left leg. Seems like I hadn't escaped completely unscathed from last week's medical history. The undulations ended around 18 km, after which it was very slightly downhill to the finish. I maintained a 5+1 strategy, seeing Gerrit about 200 m ahead and trading places with an Agape clubmate. We finished fairly strongly in about 2:13:30, but I could never catch Gerrit.

    Despite the slow time, I'm fairly satisfied. I survived the half marathon, and it seems like I can continue with my training. I'm not sure that I can make up for the lost distance of the last two weeks, though. I spent some time at the Agape tent, then chatted to Iain at Phobians, then hung out at the Affies tent. I ambled back to the car. It became a test of resolve, as my left leg was complaining loudly. Seems like the nerve issues of last week are not completely behind me yet.

    Let's see if we can get back into the swing of things this week!

    The Good: I survived a half marathon mostly intact. I also manage to run uninterrupted for more than 16 km, for the first time in years!

    The Bad: The bunch was too big for an orderly start. Perhaps they should split the 5 and 10 km starts from the half marathon?

    The Ugly: Those unexpected hills after the 16 km mark!

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    Buco Bobbies 10 km and Half Marathon, Saturday 2020-03-07 at 06:00

    Goal: Half marathon in around two hours.

    This week has not been a good one. Year-end pressures at work, unexpected flights and some intense studying resulted in limited sleep and not enough training. Add a nagging pain in a lower back muscle, and it becomes clear that my training programme is in trouble. I did manage to fit in a 16 km run on Thursday night, but I had clearly not recovered fully from last Saturday's Monster. It became a plodding and time-consuming affair. Yesterday, I struggled with a very painful left knee; probably the worst in a year or so. It took some resolve to drag myself out of bed around 04:50. My back muscle was more painful than it's been in weeks. When I left my car in the covered parking around 05:30, I could hardly walk. I bought a half marathon entry, but wasn't certain that I was going to be able to handle it. I mentally reserved the right to turn around if I wasn't able to run pain-free by 2 km or so. At least last year's route has been changed. The race flyer claimed that the new route was "fast and flat". I've been caught by that trick before, so I didn't want to get too excited, but at least I assumed we would not have to climb Meintjieskop again.

    I chatted to Hennie and Marix at the start. Marix was dressed in her new club colours. I saw Andreas, William and De Wet at a distance. We were well down the field. The start signal was exactly on time, but we only started moving after 15 s. It took close to a minute to cross the start line, and several minutes before we were able to run freely. I was waddling painfully, but at least it seemed to be getting better. Josias came sailing past. He'd started a little late. We cruised into Sunnyside East, then into Clydesdale and past Magnolia Dell. Neville was just ahead for at least 10 minutes. I finally caught him at the railway bridge. I passed the 5 km mark in a slow 31 minutes. By this time, I'd resolved to bail out at the halfway mark. I was still not comfortable, and it didn't seem to be getting better. To my amazement, Josias was walking near the 6 km mark. He'd hurt a calf muscle, and was limping home. Fortunately, it wasn't that far. I kept going, concentrating on maintaining symmetry despite an overwhelming need to curl up into the foetus position. I passed the 8 km mark at 49 minutes, leaving me only 11 minutes to avoid the indignity of not finishing inside an hour. Fortunately, the last part was indeed fast and flat. I passed Sandra in the last km or so, finishing with 59:55 on the clock. I'd managed to avoid the humiliation of a one-something finish, but fallen far short of my original intentions.

    I'll have to seek more help with this sore muscle if I am to catch up with my training programme. Half-way through March, it looks like I'm in trouble.

    The Good: They got rid of that Tom Jenkins nonsense.

    The Bad: Having to chicken out half-way.

    The Ugly: Being incapacitated at this time of year.

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    Medihelp Sunrise Monster 10/21/32 km, Saturday 2020-02-29 at 06:03

    Goal: 32 km of mountains in under 3:30.

    The past three years, I've handed out drinks just after the halfway mark of this race. This year, I will attempt to run it, something I haven't done since 1993 or so. The route has become slightly less monstrous, but it is still pretty bad. It's been a bad week, with too much work and too little running. I collected Laurens around 05:30. After a short drive, we found parking within 100 m of the gate. I bought an entry, and we were ready at the start line with several minutes to spare. The start is at 06:03, which is supposed to be official sunrise. The actual sunrise is at 06:01, but never let the truth stand in the way of a good story. I have to concede, 06:01 just doesn't have the same oddball appeal that 06:03 does. The weather was perfect for running; my car showed 15°C when we parked, and it was completely overcast, with very light drizzle most of the time. As a result, sunrise was a bit of a damp squib (sic).

    We could not progress far forward, and ended up about two-thirds down the bunch. Despite the League status having been withdrawn, there was still a healthy turnout. The start signal was feeble, and we were not certain what we'd heard. Laurens, from his lofty vantage point, could see that the leading runners had started running, so we hit our stopwatches and started shuffling forward. It took well over a minute to cross the start line, and another minute before we could jog comfortably. Too soon, we tackled our first serious climb, into Lukasrand. The bunch instantly became quiet as we hit the serious climb, a pattern that would last throughout the race. Even this early, most of the participants were grimly walking up the steepest hills in total silence. Of course, there always has to be an exception, and Brian was vigorously sprinting up the hill. I wondered if he would later pay for his gay abandon.

    We crossed the ridge near the tower, then slid downhill towards Groenkloof. As we entered the neighbourhood, we split off to the left while the half marathon bunch continued towards the Fountains Circle. We relentlessly climbed through Groenkloof. De Wet and William cruised by, looking comfortable. Kobus joined me from behind, regaling me with his latest exploits. At the 6 km mark, it started raining hard. After hitting the highest point, we descended back towards the circle. A runner with a ghetto blaster polluted the ether with his dubious taste in music. I asked him if he realised that it was not permissible. He responded that it was not a listening device. Right. The woman running with him started ranting hysterically for several minutes about how great it was to have music while you run. Yet another relentless climb started at the circle, all the way to the top of Klapperkop. There was now a mixture of half marathon and 32 runners, making for a varied bunch. I passed the 10 km mark at 1:05, pretty much on track. It stopped raining. Near the Fort, a darkly-tanned runner with wild hair and a big beard came careening downhill. He was wearing nothing but shorts, running on the grass verge to protect his bare feet. I wondered whether an anthropologist would spot him one day and become famous as a result.

    Once past Radcliffe, we turned right into a very steep descent, hitting the halfway mark at 1:44, exactly on track. The half marathon route again split off to the left. We descended all the way to the bottom of the valley, then tackled another steep climb. I passed my old water point, greeting Izak and Debbie in passing. They seemed to be coping fine without me. To my surprise, I saw Kobus again near the 20 km mark. I had assumed that he would disappear into the distance after Groenkloof. The climb continued to the highest point on Polaris, then alternated between steep descents and steep climbs. The route designer definitely has a mean streak. I passed the 22 km mark at 2:25, leaving me more than an hour to cover the last 10 km. I figured it was a pretty easy task, as we were well above the finish venue. Nevertheless, maintaining a reasonable pace despite the steep climbs required grim determination. To my surprise, I started slipping behind the pace. My left knee started complaining, unusually with medial pain.

    Entering Groenkloof, I was reminded of my previous Monster, more than a quarter of a century ago. At least this time I knew we were going to climb the lofty heights of Herbert Baker yet again, as I'd seen the distance markers on the previous pass. I shamelessly walked all the steep climbs, trying to maintain a reasonable pace on the few flats and the downhills. I mostly managed. A woman in white asked me if I was fine. I put on a brave face and intimated that I was on the very doorstep of death. She contradicted me and sped off. Why did she ask, then? In the final 2 km, on the flats, as I was pursuing Effie and Stepheenie again, Pieter O passed me. I was very happy to see him, but also amazed. What was he doing in my part of the bunch? He tried to discourage me from walking. I wonder if he realised that he was denying me my only chance of survival. The last stretch inside the Harlequin grounds was muddy, making for treacherous footing. I bravely pursued Pieter to the finish, slipping five places and finishing in 3:32.

    I spent some time at the Agape tent, then ambled across to the CSIR tent. Elaine and Renier had an assortment of snacks, and I had a really nice peach. Laurens soon arrived, and we set off to find breakfast at nearby Brooklyn Mall.

    I suppose I should be happy. The Monster is not your average race, and with very little specific preparation and no wind-down, I managed to survive mostly intact. I'm a little worried about my knee, but I'm hoping we can manage it and keep going. I'll have to figure out a way to maintain my training programme. Right now, I'm gradually slipping behind.

    The Good: Great running weather (except for the rain shower). The best distance and route markers I have ever seen—clear, colour coded, correctly spaced.

    The Bad: Dictatorial attitudes around entries and the use of Championchip. Hopefully, the organisers will have learned something.

    The Ugly: CGA26667 with his boom box, snide remarks and lousy choice of companion.

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    Lonehill Parkrun, Saturday 2020-02-22 at 08:00

    Goal: A new Parkrun location and a bit of extra distance.

    It's been yet another bad training week with too much work pressure and not enough time to run. I did one 10 km run on Wednesday—that's it. This weekend's race is tomorrow, with nothing in Gauteng North today. The logical solution is to use the opportunity to take in a new Parkrun. The closest remaining choice is Lonehill. Accordingly, I arranged to collect Laurens at 06:45. At (or before) the crack of dawn, I was woken up by an incoming text message. It was Laurens, informing me that he was too tired and that I should venture forth on my own. I'd already arranged with Alet that I'd collect her on the way. We left her house later than planned, but still arrived at the venue around 07:35. I was planning to warm up for about 15 minutes. Unfortunately, just as I was about to set off, it started raining. A huge bunch of runners hid under a large tree, looking miserable. The announcements revolved around the fact that it was the 300th Parkrun at this venue, and they thanked about a thousand groups of people, each followed by polite applause. We eventually started about 30 s late. Fortunately, the rain had reduced to a fine drizzle.

    The usual headlong dash resulted, and I could not count the runners ahead of me. I estimated more than 50. We followed a paved path with terrible camber. I soon overtook a dozen small kids who had set off hopelessly too fast. A woman with a white dog and a T-shirt with a slogan like "Get with the Pace" ran ahead of me. I wondered if she was taunting me deliberately. After a long uphill stretch and a U-turn across the brook, we ran downhill and turned left. Another uphill slog ensued, followed by a U-turn. I finally had my opportunity to count the leaders. I was in 34th spot. We ran downhill to the start, then turned uphill for a second lap. We soon overtook the tail-enders, then started meeting dense head-on traffic. A woman with two dogs on a long leash swerved into the way. Several runners with me narrowly avoided being tripped up by the leash. No route or distance markers were to be seen. I gradually lost ground, ending up around number 50 at one point. On the final downhill to the finish, a Scottish runner that had been welcomed at the start was ahead of me. I chased him all the way to the line, finishing in 26:45 and in 44th spot. My heart was pumping furiously. Clearly, I'd had a good workout.

    I suppose the slow time was to be expected, without a warmup and on fairly hilly terrain. I chatted to other finishers, including the Scot and a Frenchman. We exchanged notes about hilly Parkruns. None of them had done 1000 Hills or Noble Village, so they thought this one was pretty bad. I waited for Alet to finish, then ambled back to the car and drove back home.

    Other commitments will preclude a half marathon tomorrow. I suppose I'll just do a warm-up run and then the 10 km race. If I am to keep the option of Comrades alive, I'll have to start doing some real training soon!

    The Good: Great running weather. Green foliage.

    The Bad: No distance or route markers.

    The Ugly: The woman with two dogs on a long leash—despite the clear restriciton to one dog on a "short" leash.

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    Bestmed Tuks Half Marathon, Saturday 2020-02-15 at 06:00

    Goal: 21,1 km at 6:00/km, or maybe a bit faster.

    I was apprehensive about this race. Maybe I should have read my own account of this race three years ago. I would have seen that a 32 km race on the previous weekend is not necessarily a death sentence. I woke up at 04:30, a few minutes before the alarm clock. I found parking in a side street and arrived at the start line just before 05:30, the official marathon start time. I heard them starting behind me, about half a minute early. I had to get to registration first. I easily found the counter, and to my amazement, I was served by Theo and Elri. I visited the Club tent to drop off some paperwork, then ambled to the start with Marius, De Wet and Elma. We arrived around 05:50. With time to kill, I looked up a bunch of CSIR runners, including Ken H, Walter and Elaine. The start was slow. I crossed the start line more than a minute late, and it took at least five minutes before I could fall into a rhythm. Laurens was chatting with an Irene runner. Once their conversation ended, he shot past with his customary exuberance. I expected to see him again. I passed the 2 km mark at 13 minutes, about a minute behind schedule.

    In Clydesdale, we meandered through the neighbourhood. I noticed how the entire bunch around me consisted of runners maintaining a similar pace. There really is something to be said for separating the starts for the different distances entirely. Harry and Marius B came past. I joined them. We cruised past Loftus, on the way to the university campus. The 5 km mark came almost exactly at 30 minutes; nicely on pace. I left Marius and Harry behind. After criss-crossing the campus, we turned right towards Lynnwood Road just after the 9 km mark. I was relieved that the 10 km runners, who had started half an hour behind us, had not overtaken us. We reached the 10 km mark at just under an hour. Two hours would be a tall order, but at least so far the 6:00/km target seemed achievable. Soon, the uphill started. Climbing into King's Highway, I had to start walking occasionally. My legs were anything but fresh. Harry came past, alone. As we explored the streets of Strubenkop, Kobus overtook me. I ran with him down to the experimental farm, while he told me about his attempts to resume his running career in time for Comrades. Ramping up from 5 km to a full marathon in six weeks sounded like a tall order, but at least it comes against the background of ample doses of raw talent. The marathon lead car came past, followed by scrawny runners who had covered almost twice the distance we had. They shot past effortlessly.

    As we climbed the steep bridge into the Innovation Hub, I waved Kobus goodbye. Slakkie passed me for the umpteenth time. I was hoping I would catch up again. Marius came past, dispensing snide remarks about me to Edlma as they went. I suggested that using me as a pace marker spoke of a total lack of ambition. I could not catch Slakkie again. By now, I was using a 5+1 strategy using lampposts, just to keep going. My left patella was painful, as if the joint itself was stiff. I was more than a minute behind my pace. Elaine came past, exhorting me to join her. I think she gets diabolical pleasure from luring me to destruction on my wobbly legs. She stopped to chat to a former clubmate. Soon, she shot past again. Renier was standing by the roadside. Soon after, I saw Danie and Melani. I kept walking and running, all the way to the finish on the tartan track. I finished around 2:08:30, about two minutes behind pace. My breathing and heart rate were relaxed, but my legs were decidedly the worse for wear. Unlike last time, they got the finish lanes right. I was amazed to see Laurens in the lane next to me. He must have finished no more than a minute or two behind me.

    The Club tent provided a welcome shade. I was disappointed to learn that even the so-called sports drinks are made from non-nutritive sweeteners these days. I took a swig from a bottle. It was as much as I could stomach. The rest of the vile liquid ended up on the lawn. I chatted to Deon and De Wet for a while, then gingerly made my way back to the car. Traffic was fierce, and getting out of the neighbourhood took time.

    Interestingly, I was able to survive the half marathon one week after a 32 km race, which in turn was only two weeks after a marathon. Although I don't feel like a superhero right now, I am probably stronger than I have ever been. The niggle in my left knee worries me, but I am hopeful that I will remain healthy and uninjured.

    The Good: Good marshalling, enough caffeine-free drinks, varied route.

    The Bad: Those hills in the second half. Dense traffic on departure.

    The Ugly: A half marathon isn't supposed to leave me exhausted like this!?

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    Bronkhorstspruit 32 km and 10 km, Saturday 2019-02-08 at 06:00

    Goal: 32 km at 6:15/km (3:20 total)

    I was uncertain about how to tackle this race. The marathon from two weeks ago has not quite relinquished its grip on me, and a combination of a hectic work schedule and other commitments has not exactly resulted in a regular training schedule since then. I was thinking about various pace strategies in the 6:00/km to 6:30/km range. Laurens withdrew a day before the race, citing a case of the sniffles from which he wanted to recover quickly. I collected his entry last night, saving me a few minutes in the morning but meaning that I would have to get there on my own. Like last year, I woke up around 03:30. I managed to get back to sleep, but the alarm clock at 04:30 came as a nasty surprise. I left home just before five. Although there was a considerable amount of traffic on the freeway, I was not held up at all, until actually arriving at the gate. I parked around 05:35 and went looking for the Agape Club tent. It was nowhere to be found. The start bunch was pitifully small, but closer to the start time, the bunch swelled to a respectable size. I chatted to Marius and Alma. Several other Agape members joined us—Harry, Josias, Andreas, Christa and an unknown runner spring to mind. Louw also briefly stopped by. He was doing the 10 km race, which would start a little later.

    There was again a prayer, in Afrikaans nogal, but we started exactly on time. We moved immediately, and within a minute we were running freely. The weather was perfect. It was cool, with a low cloud base and a hint of drizzle. I heard my amateur radio callsign behind me. It was Iain. He had apparently been spending time with Google, and commented on several things he'd read about me on the Web. We left town to the north, comparing notes about recent career developments and an old colleague of his. Hendrik came past, photographing some female runners in the bunch. I'm not sure which is creepier—an elderly gent photographing female runners in the bunch or an elderly gent gratuitously googling fellow male runners. At the 4 km mark, we were about half a minute behind my planned pace. We continued chatting while scaling the long climb past the grain silos. The distance markers were a little erratic, with some much too close together. The 10 km mark came at 1:03, less than 30 s behind my planning. The discussion turned to flying, various running misadventures and classical music, as well as the recent decline of music radio in these parts.

    In the back straight, Iain mentioned that he'd run a certain 1 km stretch in under five minutes in previous years. I suggested that doing so might be somewhat misguided, given that we still had almost 20 km to do. Of course, I didn't mind, because if he indeed destroyed himself, I wouldn't face the humiliation of being left behind by a seventy-something runner. I heard my name being called. A tall blonde was standing by the roadside. Try as I might, I could not figure out how Amanda had landed up there. Unfortunately, no-one in close proximity knew me. Just imagine what it could have done for my reputation if they did. Iain sprinted madly on the downhill portion. After crossing the N4, we passed the 14 km mark almost exactly on schedule. At the next water point, Iain lagged behind. Marius and Alma with a bunch of hangers-on came from behind, running ever so slightly too fast for me. I stayed with them for a while, but let them go when I realised I was going to do myself in. I passed the 20 km mark at 2:05, exactly on schedule. Marius's group was perhaps a minute ahead as we turned left towards the dam. We passed the half marathon mark at 2:12, exactly on schedule. The relentless climb started. Marius's group started walking. I did too. Nevertheless, I gradually overtook them. For a long time, I alternated with two girls from Pretoria Boobies club. OK, Bobbies. Low blood sugar. For at least an hour, a noisy bus was about a minute ahead. I wondered what time they were aiming for. As such buses almost always start too fast, and I was aiming for 3:20, I wondered if it might be the 3:30 bus. I ran with a group of almost a dozen Bobbies (see, I can do it!) from about 24 km. I gradually started gaining time.

    We passed the bus. It turned out to be a 3:20 bus. When we entered the Buddhist compound, the climb was behind us, with mostly a very small downhill gradient. Nevertheless, I regularly had to walk. I used lampposts for a 5+1 survival strategy, which at least I was able to maintain fairly well. The Bobbies group remained just ahead of me. As we crossed the N4 with 1 km to go, I was almost a minute ahead of schedule. I cranked up the pace, passing the Bobbies and finishing at about 3:18:30. I was pleased, as I was not too tired and probably could have gone a bit faster if I'd been prepared to suffer.

    Marius and Alma finished perhaps three minutes behind me, followed by Iain a further three minutes behind. He'd lost those three minutes in the last half. Maybe that fartlek session wasn't such a great idea after all.

    Contrary to expectation, I was able to complete a 32 km race two weeks after a marathon, apparently without serious after-effects. I did have some trouble with pebbles in my right shoe, which I never quite managed to address. The moisture didn't help either, and I ended up with a large blister on the sole of my forefoot. I've just squirted it full of red stuff. I hope it helps.

    The Good: Good marshalling, interesting route. Green cold drinks at all water points that I tried. A tall blonde cheering me on.

    The Bad: The aftertaste of artificial sweeteners in the green drinks.

    The Ugly: That blister under my foot!

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    Wonderpark/Akasia 10 km, half marathon and marathon, Saturday 2020-01-25 at 05:30 and 06:00

    Goal: Survive 42,2 km. A Comrades qualifier would be nice.

    Unlike last year, I have not been running a lot this week. In fact, all I did this week was a relaxed late-night 10 km session on Wednesday. Nevertheless, I woke up at 03:50 feeling slightly weary and stiff. I collected Laurens at 04:35. We parked in our usual spot across the street and walked to the centre. I managed to enter quickly, and we arrived at the start bunch with about two minutes to spare. The start signal was almost exactly on time. The bunch started moving relatively soon, but very slowly. We crossed the start line after more than a minute, and it took another five before we were moving relatively freely. Gerrie was standing at the start line. We exchanged quick greetings as I passed. Elbert caught me from behind. He clearly must have had something urgent on his mind. Sure enough; he told me that there were four boxes of medals for charity in the trailer. The 1 km marker came up at about 8:00. I was in no hurry. I had a loooooong way to go.

    The weather was quite benign. It was cool, and it drizzled lightly. The first part of the route is a slight downhill. Very few vehicles were on the road. Around the 2 km mark, the bunch thinned out to the extent that we could run freely, but with puddles all over, one had to watch one's step. I passed Hennie; Marix was nowhere in sight. I was planning to maintain 6:30/km, giving me a crack at the 4:35 cutoff for a Comrades G qualifier. I gradually caught up the deficit incurred at the start. Around the 5 km mark, I realised that I would have to slow down. I started walking occasionally, but still maintained a pace that was closer to 6:15/km than to 6:30/km. My training programme promises a sub-four finish with my current performance over shorter distances, but experience has taught me that I do not scale well. Prudence was the name of the game. I passed the 10 km mark at 1:03, perhaps two minutes early.

    More than four hours of running is boring. I saw very few familiar faces. I did overhear some conversations, providing some entertainment value. Tobie from Magnolia was entertaining the crowd with his macho Washie exploits. I passed Koos van der Walt around the 12 km mark, while he was tying a shoelace. Sandra and Jaap also came and went. I caught Willie towards the end of the first lap. We alternated places for a while, as both of us walked occasionally. It started raining harder, soaking us completely. The low overcast let through subdued light, with the photographers hiding under umbrellas and using flash. Around 18 km, we were joined by the 10 km tailenders. They had started after the main race. At the 20 km mark, just before the dreaded bridge, we turned right for the second lap. I was surprised at the number of runners that turned right; perhaps more than half the field would be doing the full marathon. There was a small out-and-back loop at 22 km with deep puddles. Willie was perhaps a minute behind me in the loop. Again, I saw no-one else that I knew.

    Around 25 km, my left knee stiffened up, causing some discomfort. I continued regardless. Around 28 km, there was a brief electric shock in my left calf. It is all too familiar, but it's never started on the left. I stretched a little on the run, and the cramp did not recur. However, I had to slow down in the process, and started losing time. It looked like I could still make 4:35, but it was going to be tight. Given the incipient cramps, I was also interested to know if I could make it to the finish at walking pace before 4:50. That point only came around the 39 km mark, with about 3 km to go. Around that point, I had to make a difficult choice. I could possibly still make the 4:35 cutoff with a concerted effort, but I would almost certainly disqualify myself from any serious training for the next week or two. I picked the chicken option. I would continue in my comfort zone, and aim to finish below 4:40. It would only give me an H seeding, and I would live to fight again another day.

    At the entrance to Wonderpark, an official with a megaphone was telling us that we only had 20 m to go. It was obvious that it was nowhere near the truth. I suppose they don't make officials like they used to. I cruised home fairly comfortably around 4:39, more than 10 minutes inside the Comrades qualification cutoff. I am fairly pleased. I have never qualified earlier than February before, and even those races were somewhat marginal. I have three months left to improve that seeding. Unfortunately, there was no Mageu this year. I did not see the Agape tent, and ended up at the Affies tent. Chris offered some welcome watermelon and potato chips. He told me that the Affies crowd on Kilimanjaro was complaining about the rain. I'm not sure why. Two weeks ago, I told them in the finest detail what was going to happen! Chris directed me to the Agape tent. There was a shortage of chairs, but I was lucky to get one. I crashed down, feeling sorry for myself. My pulse shortly after the race was under 120, but my legs were very sore indeed. The announcer got very excited around the 4:50 cutoff. I wasn't certain whether the 4:50 bus made it or not, but they were right at the cutoff. Maybe they would have done better if they had not arrived at the halfway mark before me! Laurens was also in that commotion. It took a while for him to get to the tent, and I was relieved to learn that he had made the cutoff by 20 s.

    After a short break and Laurens's compulsory coffee, we grabbed the four big boxes of medals and tackled the half-kilometre walk to the car. It had stopped drizzling, but it was still tough going with the heavy boxes. We soon hit the road back to Pretoria. Laurens was also pretty smug about the outcome. The last few years have involved injury and illness, and it is the first time in four years that he's been able to complete a marathon in January. There is no doubt that a marathon inflicts damage to one's legs, but both of us were basically happy. I headed home, hoping to complete this story before bedtime. It was not to be. Two paragraphs from the end, I turned off the computer and keeled over. A late-afternoon phone call got me out of bed, and this story is being wrapped up with long shadows all over the place.

    The next challenge is to keep the training programme going, while remaining healthy and injury free. So far, so good.

    The Good: Excellent organisation. The flattest course in the Pretoria area. Enough green cold drinks, plus some orange drinks and a variety of eats.

    The Bad: 42,2 km remains a long way.

    The Ugly: AGN 14494 with his boom box and unrepentant attitude.

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    George Claassen Memorial Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2020-01-18 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive the half marathon with no damage. 6:00/km would be nice.

    With ambitious plans to run next weekend's Acacia Marathon, I consulted my marathon training programme. Obviously, I have not been adhering very closely to the programme, otherwise I would have known. The programme requires 16 km at about 6:00/km the Saturday before a marathon. I would do about 5 km beforehand, run the 10 km race and then shoot off for an 08:00 meeting in Centurion. I heard less than 24 hours before the race that my meeting had been cancelled, opening up all sorts of possibilities. Louw was planning to use the half marathon as a pacing exercise. Laurens was also planning the half marathon. It sounded like folly to do so much distance a week before a marathon, but Laurens kept sending me anecdotal evidence that it wasn't so bad. It worked. I eventually decided to try, but to keep it relaxed to ensure that I would not damage myself before next weekend.

    Apart from a week of too much time at the office and acute sleep deprivation, there was another challenge: A case of sniffles has had me by the throat for the last week or so. I got up as late as I dared, at 05:10. I left home at 05:35, parked about a block from the Pick n Pay around 05:45, registered at 05:50 and reached the start bunch at 06:00. On the way, Elbert and Elize helped me to confirm that I was not feverish. Louw happened to be next to me at the entry tables, and we ambled to the start line together. I didn't hear the start signal, but Louw pointed out that the bunch was already moving. It was just after 06:00, so the start was probably exactly on time. I knew from last year's experience that the start would be slow, so we just joined the back of the bunch and mostly just ambled along. We crossed the start line about 2:20 after I'd hit my stopwatch. We jogged occasionally, and only really started running after about 2 km. The first distance marker I saw was at 3 km, at which point were just about exactly four minutes late. We maintained this pace for several km. Along the way, I passed several familiar faces, including Marix and Thomas. I'd chatted to Thomas about road races on many occasions, but this was the first time we'd actually met on the road. Around the 5 km mark, we hit the hills. I walked shamelessly, while Louw occasionally went ahead of me. Eventually, Laurens passed us from behind (on a downhill, as you can imagine). We must have overtaken him at some point, as we'd started last, but none of us had noticed. I also overtook a gorgeous blonde in CSIR colours. It was Alex. She was maintaining a constant pace, and we changed places for the next hour or so as I walked and ran.

    On the downhill to the finish, I passed Iain. He was running with several members of his clan, so I could not resist the temptation to share my favourite Scottish story with them. The clan split off at the halfway mark to finish, while Louw, Laurens, Iain and I continued on the second lap. Just before the split, I noticed a runner with Mphumalanga licence number 33. I got Louw to join me, and for several seconds there, 33, 66 and 99 were running abreast. I'm sure everyone was stunned by this momentous occasion. I know I was. We passed the 10 km mark at 1:05, having added another minute of delay to our slow start. I passed Sandra around 12 km. On the uphill towards the second-lap loop, I walked quite a bit, losing another two minutes in the process. By this time, Laurens was about a minute ahead of me, I was constantly trading places with Alex and Louw and Iain were somewhat behind, chatting constantly. It was drizzling. In the loop, I saw Neville standing in front of his house. I was confused, as I thought we were going in a different direction. I suppose the gloomy overcast must have confused my natural navigation sensors. We soon cruised down Koedoeberg in the loop, making a U-turn at the far end. The road was slippery, and I slipped and crashed in the turn. I was up immediately, not much the worse for wear, except for a sore left index finger. In the loop, Ken H and Walter were about a minute ahead, while Alex was close behind me. Laurens, Louw and Iain were about a minute behind. I ran hare-and-tortoise with two young girls who were maintaining constant pace. We turned left to tackle the last 2 km down to the finish, with them just ahead of me. To stay with them on the steep downhill, I had to run fast. My calves were hurting, and I decided to slow down to preserve myself for next weekend. They slid away, making up a lead of about 100 m by the time we turned into the Pick n Pay premises. Battleaxe Jenny was standing by the roadside, joining a runner just ahead towards the finish. I finished reasonably strongly in about 2:15. It was better than last year, but eight minutes off the pace. Even accounting for the slow start, I'd lost around four minutes on the route.

    I parked myself at the Agape club tent, mostly chatting to Marius and enjoying some snacks. I was watching the finishers. Laurens and Alex finished soon after me. Iain came perhaps five minutes later. Louw was not with him. I was a little concerned, but assumed that he would soon arrive. He did not. Someone came and asked for Chris, but with the wrong surname. It was a message from a runner on the route, saying that a club member was on his way to the finish in an ambulance. I went looking for someone to help me. The ambulance crews were decidedly unhelpful. Eventually, Louw appeared. He was looking fine, but he had a scary story to tell. Perhaps 2 km from the finish, he suddenly lost his balance. He managed to sit down without crashing, but it took several minutes to regain his balance. An ambulance picked him up, testing all his vital signs and finding nothing untoward. They dropped him off close to the finish. I must remember this trick for future reference...

    Laurens and I set sail for the breakfast place. There, he mentioned that he had lost his direction on the second lap, finding himself in front of Neville's house unexpectedly. He was happy to hear that he hadn't been the only one with that problem!

    The Good: Good organisation and marshalling. Good distance markers. Relatively sparse traffic. Perfect weather.

    The Bad: A congested start. No green drinks at any of the water points.

    The Ugly: Louw's scare. Old age is not for sissies!

    ACE Race 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2020-01-11 at 06:00

    Goal: Half marathon at 6:00/km or better.

    The race has been re-branded, but those hills are still there. As in previous years (2019, 2018, 2017), I faced the race with some trepidation. Laurens collected me just after 05:05. We collected Louw and Gideon. Louw grimly announced during the week that he was going to have to start doing some races in the ramp-up to Comrades, and convinced Gideon to join him for his first half marathon. Gideon recently made some very disrespectful comments about my Parkrun times. Given his apparent total contempt for old people, I was looking forward to seeing him suffer on the half marathon. We easily found parking a block from the stadium, bought entries with almost no delay and proceeded to the Agape club tent. After filling in our slips and exchanging banter with the locals, I collected my 2020 running licences and we proceeded to the start. This week was a League race, and the bunch was denser than previous years. I remembered how slow the start was last year, and we found our way as far forward as we could—perhaps 50 m from the front.

    The gun went exactly on time. We soon started moving, but the progress was painfully slow. We crossed the start line after more than a minute. I ran on the sidewalk to avoid some of the worst traffic, but still had to slow down several times to avoid walkers and prams and others my age. Gideon and Louw ran together, mostly just ahead of me. I was a little surprised, as Gideon had expressed ambitions to finish in 1:45. Harry and Mandy came cruising past. Harry had told me earlier in the week that he wasn't sure he would be able to pluck up the courage, so I was pleasantly surprised to see him. After about 3 km, we hit the first hills. I explained the rationalisation for walking on the uphills. To my amazement, Gideon bought the story and walked too. We stuck together almost to the end of the first lap. Near the 9 km mark, Gideon started pulling away. Louw and I ran together, passing the 10 km mark in 58:20. I was happy, as we'd gained almost two minutes on my planned pace. I was feeling the strain, though, often wishing that Louw would slow down just a little. Around the 11 km mark, Louw announced that he could not maintain the pace and was going to walk. I also walked on the worst uphills, and we mostly stuck together to about 12 km. By this time, we were embroiled in the steep climbs against the ridge. Most athletes were walking, and there was little talk in the bunch. Even the spectators by the roadside were fairly subdued, with only about four locations featuring unreasonably loud music. Like previous years, the double climb up to Helium Street was no fun. It was only the knowledge that there would be no more serious climbs that sustained me. I was about two minutes behind schedule, with 7 km to go. Two Affies women passed me. The Guts was clearly working for them. They maintained a constant pace, and we regularly traded places as I walked intermittently. I recalled a previous race some years ago, where Laurens and I tackled a third lap for training purposes. I was grateful that I didn't have to go around for a third try this time! I gradually caught up with my planning. It was hard to tell exactly what my finish time was going to be, as the Half Marathon distance markers and the 10 km distance markers did not agree. The Half Marathon markers consistently showed about 200 m more remaining than the 10 km markers. Nothing seems to change.

    The Tortoise beat the Hare this time. I had to take a walk break or two in the last km, and the Affies girls cruised past. They finished about 50 m ahead of my 2:06. I was about 30 s ahead of my planned pace. I collected some drinks and then found my way to the Club tent. Gideon was there, looking a little paler than before. I collapsed into a chair. Someone squirted ice-cold water onto me from behind. I turned around to find Elaine cruising home in the finish lane. Louw finished about six minutes behind, looking strong. We ambled across to the CSIR tent, hanging around for a few minutes before heading back to the car. We dropped Louw and Gideon off at their home, then found a place for a breakfast buffet. I am happy that I've reached my goal, and I am clearly stronger than this time last year, but the fact that I struggled somewhat to maintain this pace makes me think that I must tone down my targets for the marathon that I hope to do in two weeks' time. It's unlikely that I can maintain this pace for twice as long!

    I'm stronger than last week. My left knee is complaining slightly, and I still need some sleep before tackling the rest of the day, but at least I managed to write this story without falling asleep on the keyboard...

    The Good: Festive atmosphere (as one would expect in Eersterus on weekends!). Good marshalling. Green cold drinks at all the waterpoints (although I got the very last cup at the finish).

    The Bad: Those hills are still not getting any easier. The distance markers were again broken, although a damn sight better than last week's.

    The Ugly: The contempt of the youth, especially as it is so well deserved.

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    Road Safety Run 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2020-01-06 at 06:30

    Goal: Half marathon in two hours or less.

    I last did this race two years ago. I was desperate to tackle a half marathon, given that I haven't tried that distance for three months. Given Tuesday's 10 km race, I should be able to do a half marathon in two hours, so that became my goal. Laurens was going to aim for 2:10. I woke up at 05:00, collected Laurens at 05:43 and was standing at the start at 06:15. There were few familiar faces; Josias and Ken S spring to mind. The start gun went exactly on time. Laurens and I both suffered from stiffness. My left knee has been complaining for the past few days, and my calves were both more than just a trifle stiff. Although we crossed the start line within 6 s and were running reasonably freely almost immediately, we both plodded along awkwardly. The bunch started moving freely around the 1 km mark. We soon crossed the private bridge into Eco Park, then looped through Highveld Park. To my amazement, I saw Ken H ahead. I thought that he was out of the country. I alternated positions with him for several km. Back at the bridge, the 10 km runners peeled off to the right with only 2 km to do. Us suckers remained in the loop with another 13 km ahead.

    The route was relatively flat, and I managed to keep running without too much difficulty. I was pleasantly surprised, as I seldom manage to run continuously for any length of time. Today, I managed to keep going for over an hour, only taking my first walk break in the loop after 1:04. In the loop, I saw Josias and Melani ahead, and Laurens about eight minutes behind. Due to the complete lack of distance markers, it was really hard to judge my pace. There were a few markers on the first lap, but even those were haphazard. If they were to be believed, my slowest km was over seven minutes, and my fastest under three. And they were back-to-back, running at a constant pace!

    As with previous A4A races, the route was badly designed. Had we gone around the loop counterclockwise, we could have faced the traffic in the loop. As it was, we had to run with our backs to the traffic and cross the stream of runners twice. After the loop, we rejoined the original lap. At least I was able to use those haphazard distance markers for the last 3 km. It became clear that a two hour finish was not going to be within my reach. I had to walk intermittently. The late start cost us at this point, as the sun was baking down mercilessly. Coming over the private bridge into Lenchen Avenue, I had 2 km to go with 1:51 on the clock. I estimated a 2:02 finish. The 9 km mark was visible on the road if you knew what to look for, but the distance sign had disappeared. I revised my estimate to 2:03. I was pleasantly surprised when I entered the shopping centre on my last legs and promptly finished in just over 2:01. Clearly, even the distance markers that were there were extremely suspect.

    The Agape club tent was nowhere to be seen, so I parked off at the Affies tent. As always, there was a lively discussion. Laurens arrived, and we went off for a quick errand and a sumptuous breakfast. I got home around 11:00 and tried to write this story. My attempt was doomed to failure. I nodded off several times, and eventually gave up. I slept without setting the alarm clock, and only woke up at 17:00. Clearly, a half marathon in my current state is not a walk in the park! I'm not too disappointed, though. With no pacing markers to speak of and not having run a half marathon in three months, I feared worse. At least I managed to avoid the humiliating 2:22 of my previous attempt!

    There is one more thing I have to record. With the introduction of sugar tax, all the fizzy cold drink recipes were changed. They now feature very little sugar, and copious quantities of "non-nutritive sweeteners". Seeing that the very purpose of drinks in a race is to provide some sugar, I'm not sure why they are still serving these drinks. They are the worst of both worlds—no nutrition and a horrible aftertaste that lingers for hours after the race is done!

    The Good: Surviving only a minute outside target pace.

    The Bad: No distance markers. Very unthoughtful route design. Again.

    The Ugly: Finishing in the heat of morning is not a lot of fun. I suppose I'll have to get used to it for the upcoming qualifiers, though!

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    Atlasville and Homestead Lake Parkruns, Wednesday 2020-01-01 at 07:30 and 09:00

    Goal: Two new Parkruns before the racing season commences.

    Today would be our chance to complete two Parkruns without falling foul of the Parkrun police. I found two Parkruns in very close proximity, not too far from home. No more than about 105 km of driving would be required. Laurens collected me just after 06:30, arriving at a shopping centre near the Atlasville Parkrun by 07:15. We walked to the start. I made a half-hearted attempt to warm up, but last night's race had not released its grip on me. My calves were stiff and my left knee was complaining a little. After less than 1 km, I gave up and returned to the start. The announcer claimed that the two Parkruns we had chosen were the most closely-spaced Parkruns in the world. He also congratulated Frith van der Merwe on completing her 25th volunteer session today. I had noticed her a few places behind me at the Greenstone Hill Parkrun, and noticed that she was a local at Atlasville. She has aged somewhat since her heyday in the Eighties, but those matchstick legs still show no signs of the middle-age lard most of us accumulate. The purple hair would make her nice and easy to identify, and given her Greenstone Hill performance, I resolved to use her as a pace marker.

    The start happened on time, with heavy traffic making it difficult to pass. There were two or three dozen runners ahead of me. The surface consisted mostly of narrow paths in green grass, with some paving. We crossed several bridges, and a few ditches. After about 500 m, I settled into a rhythm, gradually overtaking a few runners. A mop of purple hair passed me, and I needed some resolve to stay with my personal pace setter. She was clearly more comfortable on paving than on trails, and the occasional ditch we had to cross helped me to keep up. We made our way up and down the length of the small park twice, once on each river bank. There was some head-on traffic due to the loops involved, but the bunch was thin enough to make it easily manageable. Around 3 km, a slower runner ended up between me and my personal pace setter. I could not pass him, due to the surrounding terrain. Frith started pulling away, eventually gaining a lead of about 200 m. I walked a few times in the last km, and watched her finish in just under 25 minutes. I stumbled home in just over 25 minutes, receiving number 40 for my efforts. I walked back along the route, finding Laurens after about 200 m. I jogged to the finish with him, before setting off to the nearby shopping mall for breakfast. The Spur that we had chosen was a disappointment, as the air conditioners were out of action and the atmosphere stifling, to say the least. We stopped at a local garage to collect some drinks, then returned to the finish line. We intercepted Alet as she finished, and set off to the second Parkrun venue.

    After a drive of less than 3 km, we found parking under a tree. There was some time to spare, and I dozed off for a few minutes. I really craved some sleep, having had less than five hours since yesterday. When I was dragged from the car, I had zero enthusiasm for the project ahead. Only the realisation that it would all be over in half an hour and I would be able to claim my 24th official Parkrun venue drove me to go ahead. In the bunch, there were conflicting ideas of which way the start would face. We eventually heard some announcements, including a hugely inconclusive description of the route. For one thing, the verbal description did not agree with the gestures. Nevertheless, we finally set off about 10 minutes late. I tried to maintain a sustainable pace, but was feeling very sorry for myself. It was hard to maintain my alignment. I eventually settled down with a bearded guy in a blue Wild Coast Challenge shirt and a young woman in a dayglow yellow shirt. She had some trouble with the concept of Keep Left as used in the briefing, so I repeatedly had to swerve to avoid her. Frith van der Merwe was standing near the finish line, cheering on the runners as they passed. In the latter half of the race, we encountered the thickest part of the bunch coming the other way. Most of the back markers had even less comprehension of Keep Left, and there was much jostling and swerving involved. In the last km or so, I walked four times. I was really not in good shape. I was handed number 59, in just over 26 minutes. I waited for Laurens to finish, then queued for some fresh drinking water. By this time, Laurens had disappeared. I saw Alet passing, and started walking briskly to repeat the latter half of the route. The back markers maintained a pace that was not entirely comfortable. A woman passed with a shaggy dog featuring a pony tail—I'm not making this up! Keeping up with her and the dog required some resolve. Just before the finish, a bunch of about a dozen runners came storming past. I'm not sure how they ended up so far down the bunch, but I had no intention of keeping up with them. We stumbled back to the car, then drove back to Pretoria. The eastern suburbs were in the clutches of another power failure, with traffic lights dead all over the place. Our attempts to get a breakfast were thwarted by holiday closures and the power failure. We ended up at Alet's place for a hearty breakfast. Both Laurens and I were adamant that sleep was the first item on the agenda.

    Completing two Parkruns on one day was a tall order, but we finally succeeded. As I am writing this report, the results for Atlasville have appeared on the Web. Both Alet and I ended up being branded as "Unknown". There were quite a few "Unknowns" in the results, suggesting that there might have been some technical difficulties. I hope we can resolve the problem. Being deprived of a two-in-one yet again would certainly not make my day!

    The Good: Flat courses. Reasonable surface. Beautiful green surroundings. Good organisation. Close proximity between the two Parkruns. Correct results appearing later in the day.

    The Bad: No distance markers on either route.

    The Ugly: The skinny woman who paced me to destruction in the first event...

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    2019 Races

    Old Year's Race, Tuesday 2019-12-31 at 17:00

    Goal: 10 km in under an hour and remain strong enough for two 5 km runs tomorrow morning.

    I spent the day at the office. Before leaving, I read last year's report. I could not believe that those events happened only a year ago. It felt like ages. Fortunately, this time it wasn't raining. Unfortunately, the temperature was still 30°C when I left my car. Entries were relatively painless, and I arrived at the start line with about 10 minutes to spare. I chatted to De Wet and Marius before progressing up the bunch towards the start line. Just as I greeted Peter and Sanette, Laurens and Theresa-Ann arrived. She was aiming to do the 5 km race, her first in more than a year. Theo was also in the bunch, pushing forward to the start line. I had no illusions about seeing him again.

    The start gun went on time, and we set off up the slight incline. Like last year, we missed the worst gradients up the ridge, and remained within the confines of Rietondale valley. I steadily maintained a 5:30/km pace for most of the first half, arriving at the halfway mark in about 27 minutes. I cruised past Melani, who was chatting to another woman. The second lap was relatively uneventful, except for the young woman who was puking her lungs out near the 8 km mark. Soon after, I encountered an ambulance. I advised them of the young woman's predicament, and they set off in that direction with flashing lights and wailing sirens. I was tempted to speed up in the last bit, but resisted the temptation, mindful of the two Parkruns that waited in the morning. Theresa-Ann was standing at the finish line. I collected some water (with nary a sign of caffeine-free drinks) and made my way back to the car. By 18:00, I was driving up Tom Jenkins Avenue towards my office. The ambulance came screaming past, apparently on its way with a casualty. I wondered if it was the young woman who had been depositing her lunch on the road surface.

    I was reasonably happy. While the time is not spectacular, it is within striking distance of a Comrades F qualifier. I'm clearly stronger than I was last year, despite a bit of stiffness in my left knee and my calves. With almost 1900 km in the log for the year, I'm hoping I can extend my capabilities into longer distance runs by June.

    The Good: Breaking the hour mark very easily and remaining unscathed.

    The Bad: No caffeine-free drinks, even at the finish.

    The Ugly: One forgets that running can be serious business. It looks like one of the runners ended up in hospital.

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    Ernest Ullmann Parkrun, Saturday 2019-12-28 at 08:00

    Goal: Another new Parkrun venue.

    With the festive season hiatus still in full swing, today we again travelled to Wendywood for a Parkrun. Ernest Ullmann Park lies along a river bed. I left home at 06:30, collecting Alet and Laurens along the way and arriving in a virtually empty parking lot at 07:30. We were reassured by the Parkrun banner and some small cones, but very few runners were in attendance. We chatted to an official, who indicated that it would be a two-lap route along the river. Laurens and I set off to warm up, both somewhat lethargic after Thursday night's long run with Walter. We completed one lap, barely. By this time, a sizable crowd had gathered. The announcements went off smoothly, exhorting the dozen or so dog owners to keep their animals on a short leash. We started about a minute early. The crowd was still arriving, and several runners just joined the bunch ahead of me. I settled into 12th place, with about four of those ahead being cheaters.

    The route starts with a short, sharp climb, then settles down in very flat terrain. Despite some tall grass early on, the trail was mostly fairly smooth. I gradually improved my position. After turning in a small loop at the far end in sixth place, I retraced the route back to the start. Most runners were keeping left, and there was little trouble with the traffic. I passed Alet soon after the turn. Another small loop, and we set off on the second lap. I again passed Alet head-on, but Laurens was nowhere to be seen. A rotund young boy with a dog stood in the way. I called out as I approached. He appeared flustered, and the dog bolted out just in front of me. I ran through his leash, separating the boy from the dog. Clearly, the term "short" is open to interpretation. Two strong runners passed me on the home straight; one was older than I am, sporting a dayglow yellow shirt. I was mindful of the fact that Alet would probably commence her second lap as I finished, so I looked out for her. Sure enough, she came into view not far from the finish. She looked around, spotted me and broke into a jog. I gave chase, but just could not make it. I finished in about 24:40, receiving number 8.

    My heart rate was over 160, but soon settled down. I commenced a fourth lap, soon catching Alet. She was determined not to take more than twice as long as I had. She occasionally jogged for a while, finishing in 101st place in somewhat over 48 minutes. Laurens waited on a park bench, looking relaxed. He had also recorded his best time of recent weeks. We ambled back to the car and found our way to a great breakfast.

    The Good: Flat course. Reasonable surface. Beautiful green surroundings. Good organisation. Breaking 25 minutes again (I was starting to despair).

    The Bad: Some head-on traffic. No distance markers.

    The Ugly: Little rotund boys with out-of-control dogs on long leashes.

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    Greenstone Hill Parkrun, Wednesday 2019-12-25 at 08:00

    Goal: Notch up another new Parkrun venue without sacrificing a precious Saturday.

    Today would be our chance to visit a new Parkrun event on a weekday. The closest special events were Bryanston and Greenstone Hill. We chose the latter. I collected Alet at 06:40 sharp, then left Laurens's house at 07:00. We parked at 07:30, and Laurens and I set off to warm up. Neither of us felt strong, probably because of Monday night's 16 km folly with Walter. We arrived back at the start line just in time for the start announcements. Some guy shouted at us, probably unaware that the loudhailer made it unnecessary. Many runners were dressed in red. I didn't get the significance until I noticed that many were wearing silly red hats. The bunch moved forward to the start point, until the announcer was completely inaudible. People kept clapping politely at the right times. They'd obviously heard it all before.

    The start announcement was on time, and we set off down a narrow path with tall grass on either side. There was little opportunity to pass, so we stayed in single file for a long time. We turned right into the power line reserve. As we turned back at the western end, I counted the runners ahead. I estimated that I was in 42nd place. It was hard to count, as the surface was uneven and a lot of concentration was required not to come crashing down. There were small turnpoint markers on the route, but no distance markers. I stayed with a group of runners, both ahead of and behind me. It was hard work. I gradually made my way up to 26th place, but I was suffering. Around 3 km, I stumbled and almost crashed down on my hands. The path was muddy and the tall grass on either side kept brushing up against my legs. I kept hoping that the ticks were not into my blood type. I gradually lost ground, with stronger runners slipping past at regular intervals. Three of them had dogs on leashes. I finished just after 28 minutes, in 47th place. Not exactly what I was hoping for, but I guess I have to face reality. I walked back along the route, finding Laurens after about 500 m. I kept right as the start briefing had suggested. Most runners did the same, and it was easy to get past the oncoming traffic. Gradually, as I approached the back of the bunch, I encountered more and more runners keeping left, leading to more and more head-on collisions. I eventually found Alet and turned around.

    A fellow walker sporting a green wig had claimed at the start that it was his first Parkrun, but I noticed that he was wearing a 50 Parkrun shirt. I said as much, and he revealed that he was running his 195th different event. We started chatting about Parkrun tourism. Jaco van der Walt just happens to be one of the founders of the Parkrun tourism Facebook page. I managed to get answers to some of my burning questions, including how Jabu Mkhize has accumulated 222 different events. My most burning question, though, elicited a vehement response. I should have known. My original premise was that their policy to delete multiple Parkruns on one day is all about Total Control. Sure enough, it is. He attempted to justify the decision, but the arguments did not hold water. Like the one that complaints about the deletions generate too much email. I agree. Not deleting duplicates is clearly the way to go. He also revealed that this Christmas Parkrun would be the last. The justification was likewise based on circular reasoning: They would discontinue Christmas Parkruns because smaller venues could not find enough volunteers. Duh. Offering Christmas events is not compulsory, so I'm not sure why it's a problem if not every venue can participate. Judging by the banter I heard on the route and afterwards, a lot of individuals from smaller Parkruns relished the opportunity to try a nearby Parkrun.

    Alet and Jaco finished around 57 minutes. Alet disappeared, and it took several minutes for Laurens and me to realise that she'd walked back to the car. We followed, and set off to find something to drink. The garage shop we visited was crowded with sweaty bodies complaining loudly about the route. Clearly, our idea to get a drink was not unique.

    The Good: An urban Parkrun in open fields. Getting some answers to my Parkrun questions.

    The Bad: No distance markers. Tall grass wiping against your legs, suggesting the possibility of tick bites. Muddy terrain with loose stones and slippery slopes, with significant risk of slips and sprains. Lots of head-on pedestrian traffic.

    The Ugly: Encountering the Parkrun dictatorship face-to-face.

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    Woodlands Parkrun, Saturday 2019-12-21 at 08:00

    Goal: Get onto the local Parkrun "most events" list, despite Parkrun's best efforts.

    The AGN race calendar is winding down, with no races in Gauteng North today. Accordingly, Laurens and I decided to tackle another new Parkrun. We've looked at the calendar of special events for the new year break. Today we would pick the closest event that we haven't done before, which we don't need to keep in reserve for either Christmas or New Year special events. That venue happens to be the Woodlands Parkrun in Wendywood.

    I collected Laurens at 06:50. We arrived in the area in about 25 minutes, but took several minutes to locate the right entrance to the office park. Once we had parked my car, we set off down the road to warm up. Laurens commented that the area was rather hilly. Unfortunately, he was right. Cars were arriving thick and fast. As I wanted to avoid the mad rush at the start, I lined up a few rows into the bunch. The announcements were completed, starting exactly on time. It was clear that it had been a mistake to start so far back, as many of the runners ahead were very slow. I was unable to make good use of the downhill slope in the first km. I was unable to count the number of leaders ahead. Before 1 km had passed, we entered a loop. At least I could now count the runners ahead. I was in 42nd spot. As we climbed back up the hill to the start, I gradually improved my position. As I passed Laurens, I slid up to 32nd spot. Soon, around 2 km, I entered the Top 20.

    We were now on narrow paths in the game reserve. The path meandered across the slope, through lush green landscape. Scores of antelope were prancing by the trail, with little ones following their parents. The path was about a metre wide, with arrows and "encouraging" comments chalked onto the surface. I passed a 3 km distance mark at 15:00. Thirty seconds later, I passed another one marked "±3 km". Needless to say, it reduced the credibility of the only distance marker. A runner wearing a Soweto Marathon shirt apparently didn't feel that the slope was steep enough. He kept raising his knees to chest height, kicking up his heels, speeding up and slowing down, occasionally turning around and looking back, and playing with his watch, while still frustratingly remaining ahead. On the final uphill, a strong runner came sailing past. I finished just under 27 minutes, and was handed number 21. Laurens finished a little later. We bundled into the car and went looking for breakfast.

    The Good: An urban Parkrun partly in beautiful natural surroundings. Finally making it into the South African Most Events list with only one duplicate. I wish I didn't run the Botanical Gardens Parkrun twice!

    The Bad: No distance markers. The one that I did see was clearly not credible.

    The Ugly: Those hills. Gauteng is not a flat place.

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    Thousand Hills Parkrun, Saturday 2019-12-07 at 08:00

    Goal: Another new Parkrun while in KwaZulu-Natal.

    My running programme has been rather disrupted recently, Last Saturday, I missed an opportunity to do a marathon locally when I was unexpectedly called out to fly. This week, I'm out of town on business. I decided to use the opportunity to do a new Parkrun, preferably one that I wouldn't be able to do in the normal course of events. I originally aimed to do the Nottingham Road Parkrun, but couldn't talk the Engelbrechts into joining me. That being the case, I decided to find something closer to Durban. I eventually settled on Thousand Hills Parkrun, just outside Botha's Hill. I spent a very enjoyable evening with a friend, and only managed to find accommodation near Botha's Hill around 01:00. I slept fitfully until 07:15, then made my way to the venue. I got stuck behind a macho truck with various offroad accessories and a canoe. Unfortunately, the driver did not live up to the macho image, and struggled to negotiate the winding road in mountainous terrain. We finally arrived at the venue with about 20 minutes to spare. I took a ten minute jog to loosen up, then listened to the "first-timer" briefing. The route winds up and down, with at least a dozen loops doubling back on themselves. Looking around, I was painfully aware that it was likely to be very, very hilly. Locals assured me that it was the world's hardest Parkrun. But then, I'd heard similar claims at other Parkruns before.

    The start was relatively orderly. The runners ahead of me were all strong, and I did not anticipate overtaking any of them. The first portion of the route is on a fairly wide road, soon turning left and descending into the depths on a narrower track. I soon settled into 13th place. Although the tracks were clear, we passed through dense bush, and I could seldom see more than one or two runners ahead. From roughly 1 to 3 km, I switched positions with a man about my age and a woman in trail-running kit. Two younger men were constantly just ahead. I saw only the 2 and 4 km markers. They did not indicate a pretty picture. I was not even going to break half an hour. It was hard to pass, with the narrow and winding track. Around the 4 km mark, the woman requested—perhaps "commanded" is more accurate—me to let her pass. I did, and she did. Soon after, the man did likewise. I gasped for breath, and stumbled home in 14th place, in about 34:43. It was much slower than my recent Parkruns, but probably not unreasonable for this terrain.

    I was in a nostalgic mood, having traversed the main road through Botha's Hill on foot on four occasions, so I took a drive down to Drummond. I slowly cruised down the Comrades Wall of Remembrance, looking for familiar names. I soon saw Elaine's name on the wall, followed by Frances's. Amazing—thousands of names, with only two being familiar. I drove back to the hotel and sat down to a hearty breakfast, surrounded by peacocks plaintively calling for help. The omelette was the smallest I've ever seen (with the possible exception of the one in Freetown), but really tasty. The thought crossed my mind that peacock eggs are smaller than chicken eggs. Then it was time to catch up on some sleep that I'd missed out on last night, and to face a busy day.

    In the past weeks, I experienced a rather dark side of Parkrun. There has been a lot of hate and discontent in recent months about dictatorial and heavy-handed management, but thus far it had been anecdotal. This time, it was personal. I received an email enquiring why I appeared in the results of two Parkruns a couple of weeks ago. I responded that I'd actually completed both. I was informed that one would be deleted. When I pleaded that I'd never seen a restriction, I was pointed to an obscure social media page of Parkrun International, with ambiguous wording to the effect that the second Parkrun on any particular day would be deleted. I enquired about reasons, but none was forthcoming. My Noble Village results soon disappeared from my personal records, with my results being reflected in that Parkrun's page as "Unknown". The same fate befell Laurens too. In my case, it was particularly painful as the third place at Noble Village had been my best finish thus far. I now understand the accusations from Bloemfontein better. There really seems to be a heavy-handed approach from Headquarters, with senseless rules enforced mercilessly. Today would have allowed me to enter the South African "Most Events" page. As it is, I'm one short. Sigh... I hope at least I was able to contribute to a tremendous sense of job satisfaction in some petty bureaucrat's heart.

    The Good: A new Parkrun that I wouldn't normally have access to. Indulging in some Comrades nostalgia.

    The Bad: Poor distance markers. I saw only two, and wasn't even sure that they were really distance markers.

    The Ugly: Unfortunately, the "Thousand Hills" does not constitute misleading advertising, as I was hoping it might!

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    Waterfall Parkrun, Saturday 2019-11-23 at 08:00

    Goal: Notch up another new Parkrun without wasting a Saturday.

    Laurens alerted me to a Parkrun I didn't know of, which happens to be close enough to the Monument so that we could get there by 08:00 after completing the Voortrekker Monument event. I waited for Laurens to finish, in vain. Eventually I started asking around, and both Neville and Ken H confirmed that he had already finished. I finally found him in the queue to get his coffee fix. I should have known. In the car on the way to Midrand, Laurens ventured an opinion that the course could not be too hilly in the Midrand area. I pointed out to him that the Jukskei Valley was not to be trifled with. My apprehension was heightened (sic) by the fact that we followed the Parkrun traffic to the fifth level of the parking garage. Sure enough, the Parkrun starts and finishes high above the entrance level. There were lots of cars, and as could be expected, lots of runners at the start. I felt a little out of place wearing my race vest and AGN licence numbers. I also felt a little uncertain about the effects of this morning's very hilly 10 km run on my Parkrun performance.

    The announcements were made over a portable PA with regular feedback howls. We started exactly on time, with the customary headlong dash. I counted 35 runners ahead, but was a little uncertain. The first 100 m or so was paved. After that, we were off-road. The trail was mostly wide enough for a vehicle, but the surface was somewhat rough, strewn with chunks of gravel. As I had feared, we gradually descended into the Jukskei Valley. I saw an A4-sized "4000 m to go" sign at 5:05. At least the pace wasn't ridiculously slow, despite the proceedings at the Monument. By this time, I had had an opportunity to count the leading runners, and had settled into 35th place. The route meanders through the field, with ample opportunities to see the runners ahead and behind. The field was large, at least 400 or so. I walked intermittently. About half a dozen strong runners came shooting past, while I gradually passed some runners. By the time the "2000 m to go" sign came up, I had settled into 32nd place. By now, it was all uphill. I continued to walk and run, feeling very sorry for myself. I was able to finish reasonably strongly in about 27:40, passing a few more runners on the final uphill. The tags were scanned without any problems, and I was assigned 29th place.

    A nearby restaurant, Porto, had provided five containers of water for the runners. I enjoyed the lime most, but the orange, strawberry, cucumber and pure water were also good. I must have downed at least two litres! Laurens finished a few minutes behind me, and just behind a petite woman pushing a pram and carrying a young child on her hip. Fortunately, he didn't see her. The free parking that they advertised on the Web site involved downloading an app onto your smart phone and disclosing all your intimate details. I mentioned something about misleading advertising. An official handed me a new exit card, which he kept "just for emergencies". We were soon out of there, stopping at Grand Central Airport to buy some maps, and a great breakfast.

    All week, I had been watching the Farmstead Parkrun's results page. The barcode scanning problem had clearly confused the results, and I had been omitted. I would be very, very sad if that one didn't count. I sent two emails, without response. Fortunately, when I checked today's results just before mid-day, last week's results had also been fixed. I've finally passed 20 different Parkruns. With one of them being outside South Africa, I'll have to complete another local event to reach the entry level of 20 events for the local Tourist list. Hopefully, we won't have to wait too long.

    The Good: Another new Parkrun, on the morning of a race. Finishing relatively strongly.

    The Bad: Poor distance markers. I saw only two, and even then had to squint to read them.

    The Ugly: Why did they have to make full use of the Jukskei Valley? Do they not care about old guys who have just finished a mountain race?

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    Voortrekker Monument Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2019-11-23 at 06:00.

    Goal: Survive in a state which will not ruin the Parkrun later in the morning.

    Laurens and I have grimly decided that we need to do some long runs. We are therefore both eyeing next weekend's marathon. I haven't committed in my mind, but doing a half marathon today would be a mistake if I did want to exercise that option. Especially if that half marathon is at the Voortrekker Monument (a notoriously hilly site) and is advertised by the organisers as the "Tougherer One", a clear sideswipe at tomorrow's Tough One 32 km race in Johannesburg. After tossing around some options, Laurens and I decided to do the 10 km race instead, then deciding whether we were up to the rigours of a Parkrun.

    Several races are run at the venue, but this race is a new addition to the calendar. This year is only its second running. The brochure threatened all kinds of drastic action, including that anyone attempting to run without entering or anyone who dropped any litter on the ground would be summarily dragged away, kicking and screaming, by the local militia. There was also a firm deadline of 05:45 for entries. I'm not an early riser at the best of times, and ended up a few minutes late at Laurens's place. Nevertheless, we managed to beat the entry curfew by several minutes (at least two!). The start bunch was relatively small, with the demographics not noticeably affected by the venue. The announcer liked the sound of his own voice. I wondered by what he meant by the "historic second annual running" of this event.

    The start gun went about two minutes early. And "start gun" is no misnomer; it must have been an artillery piece, and there was no mistaking that the gun had sounded. Laurens and I were near the front, and runners careened wildly past on either side. The first nasty surprise was a descent into the Fountains Valley. At least it gave me an opportunity to see the runners ahead, as they climbed back up the mountain while I was descending. Jabulani was looking strong. Sizwe seemed to be struggling, but was still well ahead of me. Ken H was well behind me, accompanying his niece who has just joined our club and whose licence number follows on mine. Laurens and Neville were in that same part of the bunch. We climbed back to the Wagonwheel Circle, then climbed even further to Schanskop Fort. They really had to use every nasty uphill in the neighbourhood! Then followed a steep descent into the valley below, turning just before the main road into town. We then climbed up the amphitheatre, only to descend steeply back down to the road. We tackled the steep hill up to the finish with exactly 1 km to go. By this time, almost everyone was walking shamelessly. Even the two medics who had constantly been comparing notes about their casualty patients were quiet. I saw Fanie up ahead, and used him as an incentive to keep my speed up. I finished in over 57 minutes, not something one would want to admit to in public. Nevertheless, with the extreme hills, it was probably not a total waste. I waited for Laurens to finish, chatting to someone whose friend from Bothaville was in the field. I can only imagine what these hills must do to someone from that flat part of the country!

    The race is no picnic. I was grateful that I didn't have to do another lap. I was a little sorry that we had set up a Parkrun afterwards. I know it was unlikely that two compulsive characters would cancel, regardless of what a great idea it was...

    The Good: Good distance markers—I saw all 9 of them. Good training for would-be Comrades athletes. No water sachets to litter all over the place.

    The Bad: Still too many paper cups for cold drinks.

    The Ugly: Those hills are not a surprise, but they are really nasty.

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    The Farmstead and Noble Village Parkruns, Saturday 2019-11-16 at 07:00 and 08:00.

    Goal: Notch up two new Parkruns in a single trip.

    With several wannabe timing providers entering the market, claiming all kinds of phantom benefits and ensuring that the results can no longer be found in one place, several local races have suddenly become "pre-entry only" races. With three jobs and a building project, my future is seldom predictable enough to enter a race more than a week ahead. Especially when it is just another garden-variety local race. And so both Laurens and I ended up missing the deadline to enter for today's Tom Jenkins race. Now if you've done Tom Jenkins, you probably understand that there are all kinds of subliminal reasons not to enter in time. Nevertheless, we really did inadvertently miss the deadline.

    With no race to run, we decided to look for a new Parkrun. Or two. Laurens found two Parkruns not too far from home, one starting at 07:00 and the other at 08:00. Google Maps claimed that they were a 25 minute drive apart. Making both of them would involve completing the first one under half an hour, driving with purpose and finding parking close to the second venue, in time for the start announcements. If there were no major traffic snarlups, it just might be doable. I collected Laurens at 05:40. We travelled all the way to the Farmstead Parkrun, west of the Hartbeespoort Dam. We parked around 06:40, leaving enough time to find the start and complete a warmup run of almost 2 km. We were intrigued by the wild antelopes of at least three species that scattered ahead of us. We were not so thrilled at the fact that the route dropped down a precipice, down which we did not dare venture.

    The race director seemed a little uncomfortable. She explained that the normal volunteers were attending an event, and that an alternate set of volunteers had to be found. With the announcements completed, she wanted to wait another few minutes for some latecomers at the gate. We urged her to start on time. There was no time to lose. We set off at 07:01. The trail was all dirt, but the surface was smooth and the clearing was always at least a metre wide. All turns were clearly marked, with red arrows on a white background. I was seventh from the start. After about 1 km, with no distance markers in evidence, the runners ahead of and behind me were invisible, at least several hundred metres from me. We soon descended steeply into the valley. I saw only one distance marker, boldly proclaiming 3 km to go. At that point, the preceding runner came into view. I soon overtook him and lost him from sight. The route started meandering, alternating a tunnel through tall reeds with dense forest and the occasional open field. I saw my pursuers for the first time, several hundred metres behind. We passed a clump of houses that could only be described as idyllic. The smallish town housed featured neatly trimmed gardens separated from wide open fields by an electric fence. A child was picking gorgeous flowers in one of the gardens, seemingly oblivious of the sweaty bodies sailing past. I finished in sixth place. The ranking tags were all strung on a fishing line, allowing us to take the tag to the scanner but not to remove it or get it out of sequence. The scanners were having problems. Their phones could not scan the tags. Under considerable time pressure, I implored them to write down my number so that I could retrieve the car. They did, and I disappeared from the queue. Laurens finished soon after. By this time, a runner with a working scanning app solved the technical problems, and Laurens joined me in the car. We left at 07:31.

    So far so good. We passed Bill Harrop's Original Balloon Safaris. A balloon hung serenely in the sky. There was no time to admire the scenery—we had to make good time. We parked at 07:55, found the start and listened to the announcements. The director mentioned that they had just introduced a new route, to make up for a shortfall of a few hundred metres. Life is not fair. Could they not have waited another week before fixing the problem? There was a vague reference to some volunteers being "in the mountain". That didn't sound good at all. We started on time. I immediately settled into third place. Number 1 sported a 250 Parkrun T-shirt and a grey beard. Number 2 wore a high-tech bra supporting a Go-Pro. Male. Sixty-odd. Number 1 gradually opened up a gap, while I doggedly pursued Number 2. No-one else was close. We passed through a tunnel under the road, then started climbing the ridge to the south. The route was exceptionally well marked, with canvas markers of perhaps half a metre square for the route and distances. I saw all four km markers. Just after the half-way mark, and probably at the highest point on the route, Number 1 ran out of steam. We surged ahead, but I could not keep up the pace. The effects of another Parkrun earlier that morning were definitely there to feel. Mr Wonderbra disappeared up ahead, while Mr 250 again started opening up a gap ahead of me. We descended down the hill at speed, taking another uphill detour, retracing the early part of the route before traversing the tunnel back to the start. Despite a slight downhill grade, I could not complete the last km in under five minutes. It wasn't all bad. We ran through a dense tropical forest down a river before turning right to the finish. I finished in well over 28 minutes, receiving tag 103. They explained that they were having their first 100 tags replaced. They were surprised to hear that we'd completed another Parkrun earlier. Laurens arrived soon after. We settled into the restaurant at the local craft brewery for breakfast. I chatted to Mr 250. As I had suspected, he is a regular Parkrun tourist. This venue was his 73rd. He came close to spoiling my day by opining that Parkrun would not recognise two events in one day on our records. I hoped he was wrong. Refreshed, we left a few minutes later.

    On the way home, we stopped at Bill Harrop's. I talked business with Christopher and briefly chatted to Sarah, who told me about her hard landing that morning. We then set off to get Laurens to his medical appointment on time. I deposited him on their doorstep at 09:45, exactly on time, and set off to honour my flying commitments for the rest of the day. Two new Parkruns before 10:00 can't be all bad!

    The Good: Notching up two new Parkruns. Both exceptionally pretty routes. Another Top 100 all-time finish.

    The Bad: Two Parkruns in one morning ain't without its challenges.

    The Ugly: Over 28 minutes? Really?

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    Bronkhorstspruit Parkrun, Saturday 2019-11-09 at 08:00

    Goal: Notch up another new Parkrun and leave last week's marathon behind me.

    There's been no running since Sunday. I didn't think a half marathon, or even a 10 km race, would be prudent so soon after the marathon. So the obvious thing to do was to tick another nearby Parkrun off my list. Bronkhorstspruit was an obvious choice, possibly being the nearest and also being the one that we missed a few weeks ago. Laurens collected me at 07:00. We arrived at the start line around 07:45. We jogged perhaps a km down the route before turning back to the start. There, we listened to the announcements (in Afrikaans, nogal) before starting exactly on time. By now, I suppose I'm accustomed to a bunch of primary school kids that madly rush ahead, only to falter later in the race. This time was no exception. I was seventh initially, with two kids in hot pursuit. After five minutes, I was sixth, with the pursuers nowhere to be seen. A primary school boy and a high school girl with a dog ran ahead of me, doing their own personal version of fartlek. I wish I could run like that and get away with it. After about 10 minutes, they suddenly wilted. I comfortably cruised past, now in fourth place. A strong runner came shooting by and disappeared up ahead.

    No distance markers were in evidence. I walked occasionally, at least trying to stay in touch with the teenager in blue ahead of me. He also walked occasionally. Around 15 minutes in (at which point I hoped that I would be around 3 km!), I managed to pass him. He gradually receded into the distance. I passed the 4 km marker (the only one I saw) at 20:30, considerably slower than my recent Parkruns. I finished in 25:30 or so, unable to make up time in the last km. I guess last week's marathon has not entirely relinquished its grip on me. Laurens came home just over a minute later, in ninth place.

    We found our way home via a leisurely buffet breakfast. As I had hoped, I was fairly relaxed and managed to resume a normal work day soon after getting home. I guess my excuses are over now; it's time to resume a normal training programme. I'll aim for a half marathon next weekend, then figure out what target to aim for and get to work.

    The Good: Notching up another Parkrun. Resuming running after the Soweto marathon without major mishaps. Showing up in the Fastest 100 list (number 83).

    The Bad: Only one distance marker.

    The Ugly: Over 25 minutes? Really?

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    Soweto Marathon, half marathon and 10 km, Sunday 2019-11-03 at 05:30

    Goal: Survive the marathon. 6:00/km would be nice, and would yield a comfortable F Comrades qualifier.

    As always with long-distance races, I am not sure what to expect. My training programme promises a 3:49 finish, which would be half an hour faster than my personal best. However, there are three reasons why I am sceptical. One: I keep reading how tough this Soweto marathon is. Two: I have not been able to adhere closely to the training programme. Three: I've had three weeks from hell at work, leading to sleep deprivation, not enough training time and a somewhat unsettled psyche. Despite a light training load this week, with a short tempo session and a short speed session on Monday and Thursday respectively, my legs were still slightly sore and stiff. I therefore decided to go for a rather more sedate 6:00/km pace, which should yield a finish time of 4:13 and a comfortable F Comrades seeding. Meeting that goal so early in the season would be a first for me. In hard training years, I normally have a disastrous marathon in February, followed by a slightly less disastrous one around March and a comfortable qualifier in April or on Mayday, which also happens to be the closing date for qualifying.

    Entries opened months ago, and quickly sold out. We therefore had to pre-enter long before the race—hence the grandiose aspirations. Apart from a growing awareness that I could not live up to my original plans, I had another nasty surprise just a week before the race. Race packs had to be collected at the race venue in the three days before the race. No opportunities existed on the day. I would have to make the 140 km trip twice. Their Web site was also laced with pages of legalese, clearly drafted by someone fresh out of law school. I seriously considered just abandoning the project, but decided that I would have to face this arrogance once—and only once. Accordingly, I set off on Thursday night with Louis to go and collect the race packs. The drive took an hour each way, even well after rush hour. The collection involved walking several km and then standing to attention in front of a desk with your hand on a Bible. Fortunately, we were quickly helped, and after scanning our three Championchip transponders successfully, we headed home.

    Preparation was a little sketchy. I arrived home around 21:00 on Saturday night, then set about finding all the necessary kit. I had some trouble finding some of the stuff, and didn't get to bed until about 22:30. Not great, considering that I would have to be up at 03:00. As is often the case when the alarm clock has been set so early, I woke up several times during the night. I recall waking up around 23:00, 01:00 and 02:11. As you can imagine, I wasn't exactly well rested when the alarm clock called at 03:00!

    Laurens collected Louis and me from the office just after 03:45. The GPS guided us onto a weird route, which resulted in us quickly getting close to the stadium, and then sitting still in traffic for half an hour. We parked as soon as we could, leaving a substantial walk up the hill to the start. We arrived just a few minutes before the 05:30 start. A pleasant surprise waited, in the form of Laura and her brother Chris. They and Louis were waiting for the shorter races, while Laurens and I kept watching developments in the start lane. We could not hear proceedings well enough, with many thousands of runners already crowded into the start pens. There was some movement just after 05:30, but it turned out to be a false alarm. Around 05:49, the bunch finally started flowing. We joined the back of the bunch, amid a bunch of crazed berserkers trying to push us out of the start line. Most of them were half marathon entrants, but the odd official trying to pacify the berserkers also admonished us to return to the back of the start pens. Clearly, our expressions were not pained enough to clearly display that we were about to face the Real Deal. We finally made it to the start line around 05:55. At this time, the route ahead was still clogged up with thousands of runners, notably at least two buses. We stood idly waiting for 06:00 before finally treading on the mats and tackling the race. By this time, the route was clear ahead of us and we broke into a comfortable jog almost immediately. Well, maybe "comfortable" is not entirely accurate. I really felt somewhat stiff and sore, and waddled awkwardly. I also had to find an isolated tree to offload some excess liquid. At the 1 km marker, I was more than a minute behind schedule.

    The route profile resembles a "W". The first 15 km is basically downhill. From there, we would climb to a high point around the halfway mark, before descending again to a low around the 25 km mark. From there, the last 17 km would be uphill to the finish. There were undulations along the way, but the basic idea is about right. The first descent took us through Baragwanath, passing both the Hani and Maxeke hospitals. On the descents, I tangled with the 6h00 and 5h30 buses. I had never seen this part of Soweto before. On the first climb, we passed the famous Regina Mundi Roman Catholic church, a hotbed of anti-Apartheid activity in the Eighties. I was a little disappointed. I was expecting a cathedral. The reality was somewhat underwhelming. The traffic was completely gridlocked. With very few exceptions, motorists stoically waited. I was intrigued to notice that a large proportion of runners pointed out obstructions such as cones in passing—a common courtesy that is unfortunately rare in most races. I was gradually losing time. At the 10 km mark, I was already about three minutes slow. At this rate, I would be able to finish around 5h30, still an F finish. I walked intermittently. Not a single caffeine-free drink was anywhere to be seen. It was either caffeine or water. At least the water supply was plentiful, unlike some previous years. The water sachets, inexplicably, were orange, raising the false hope of some sweetness and nutrition. I gradually consumed my supply of cheese, gels and fruit. I was dismayed to realise that I had again slipped on my magnesium supplements. They must have stayed behind in the car. The Hector Peterson/Petersen/Pieterson/Pietersen Memorial has grown a little tatty, with a monstrous hotel on pillars having sprung up next door. A native who knew young Hector once explained that the family had adopted the surname for economic reasons, feeling that their native Pitso was not going to make them competitive in the job market. Somehow, neither the Pitso family nor anyone else quite figured out how to spell their adopted surname.

    On the second descent, we passed through a section with lots of trees, something that had been sorely lacking up to that point. The second low point was one in more ways than one. I was decidedly taking strain. My left knee was complaining loudly, and my calves were not exactly comfortable. I started walking intermittently, just to survive. By this time, I was around 10 minutes behind schedule. I calculated that I would arrive at 5h20 elapsed time if I walked aggressively at 10:00/km. Experience said that I might not even be able to sustain that pace. I grimly resolved to try and improve matters, as there might still be a crack at a marginal Comrades qualifier at 4h50. As I ran through Jabulani, I reminisced about the times my daughter and I helped at a nearby old-age home on occasion. It's been a while. We circumnavigated Orlando Stadium, something I had never seen before. It looks like a spaceship left behind when they filmed District Nine.

    My fun was spoiled very suddenly around the 27 km mark, when I had a sudden, sharp cramp in my right calf. I stretched for a while, relieving the pain but not doing much for my sense of foreboding. At this point, I realised that there had been another omission in my preparation: my compression socks! I plodded along, carefully avoiding too much tension on the calves. We climbed up the famous Vilakazi Street. It is even more of a tourist trap than on my previous visit, with cheap stuff offered at high prices in copious quantities. There was even a company offering aeroplane and helicopter rides, presumably at equally inflated prices. It took a while before I was able to start running again, using power pylons to discipline my running stretches. Although I was still mostly walking, my estimated finish time gradually came down from 5h20 to 5h15. In the final km, I was mostly able to run, slicing more time off my estimate and finishing in the stadium in about 5:12, almost exactly an hour behind my planned finish. Not a glorious finish, but at least I didn't get stuck along the route in a miserable heap. Maybe, if there had been shady trees, I might have...

    Finishing in this magnificent stadium is an interesting experience. You run through a pitch-dark tunnel with television spotlights in your eyes, to emerge into daylight with the finish right in front of you. There is a sting in the tail, though. Probably the same freshly-minted lawyer who wrote all the rules on the Web site gained perverse pleasure from organising the finish. Once you have finished, you have to clamber all the way up the grandstand to collect your medal, before being spewed out into sunlight again. I assumed Laurens would be behind me, so I sat down for about 15 minutes to regain my composure, or perhaps to let the pain subside to a tolerable level. To my amazement, at the end of this break my heart rate was down to 80. Clearly, my system can cope with this kind of thing. It's just these flimsy li'l legs that can't take the punch. Once I staggered upright again, I went looking for an ice lolly or something. All the vendors had run out of stock. Laurens tapped me on the shoulder. I was grateful, especially when the only vendor who still had an ice lolly (singular) did not have change. Laurens was able to come up with some change, and we continued to look for the car. We eventually found the car, but Louis was nowhere to be found. We were not exactly surprised, given that he had been waiting for a long time and that there was no shade in sight. It was almost mid-day, and the summer sun baked down mercilessly from a cloudless sky.

    Interestingly, I didn't see a single member of Agape club. There were four guys in the results, but they finished ahead of me, so presumably I was slowly catching up to them. I passed four members of the CSIR club. Technically, I passed Edward several times between Regina Mundi and Vilakazi Street. After that, I didn't see him again. I also vainly looked for Matome and Maria, but perhaps they decided to sit out this time after completing the previous day's Kaapsehoop marathon. I suppose most of my clubmates also tackled that (much easier) marathon instead.

    Soon after the car and its air conditioner sprang to life, Louis appeared from nowhere. He had also finished later than planned, but looked relaxed and fresh. We set off, taking a back road onto the N1 and missing the horrible traffic to the north. We stopped at the first roadside garage for some drinks. At least half a dozen other runners were doing the same thing. I jibed some of them about their awkward gait, suggesting that they might benefit from some exercise. One responded casually that he had run the Kaapsehoop marathon the previous day, making it more than 84 km for the weekend. Obviously, humans are made of sterner stuff than I am.

    Once Laurens had dropped us off, I found my way to a bed as soon as I could. This story was written in four instalments, as I certainly could not stay awake long enough to make it in one go. Amazingly, by 15:00 my heart rate was down to 60. My legs were nowhere near as resilient, though.

    I'm obviously disappointed, but I suppose I should not be surprised. Long distances are clearly not my thing. However, I suppose I should be happy. Instead of having a disastrous marathon in February like I always do when I tackle Comrades, I have had my disastrous marathon three months earlier. Let's hope I can build on it, and have a less disastrous one early in the new year! The fitness is there. I just have to work on these weak sticks that I walk on.

    The Good: Good marshalling. Patient traffic (mostly). Good distance markers—I don't think I missed any of them. Seeing new parts of Soweto that I haven't seen before, and revisiting some old parts.

    The Bad: The late start. No caffeine-free drinks. The midday sun. These puny legs of mine.

    The Ugly: The arrogance of the organising committee, forcing us to take the drive twice. I suppose one has to do the Soweto Marathon once, but once is quite enough, thanks.

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    Hillside Parkrun, Saturday 2019-10-26 at 08:00

    Goal: 3 km easy, 5 km in 24:30 and 1,5 km easy.

    I'm winding down for next weekend's Soweto Marathon. This week's race offers a choice of 10 or 21 km. My long run for the week had to be 16 km. I did my long run with Elaine on Tuesday and a partially successful speed session on Thursday, leaving my tempo run for Saturday. And it just so happens that the tempo run was going to work well with a Parkrun. With only one Parkrun left undone in Pretoria, the choice was easy: Hillside. Laurens picked me up at my office at 07:00. We spent a few minutes finding our way around some unlabelled roadworks, arriving about 25 minutes before the start. We didn't quite have enough time for an easy run of 3 km like we were supposed to, but we managed to complete about 2 km before lining up at the start. The golf course is somewhat unusual. The grass on the freeways was bone dry. Only the putting greens were, eh, green. Finally, an ecologically responsible golf course!

    The announcements were the usual tedious affair. The start was fast and furious, as always. I counted 19 runners ahead. After about 500 m, it was down to 12. Two runners maintained a lead of about 100 m ahead of me; another was pursuing me by a similar distance. This situation remained constant all the way to the 4 km mark. The route meanders through the golf course with a series of hairpin bends. The distances were clearly marked; I saw all of them. I overtook one of the two runners ahead, a youngster of no more than 14. Soon after, the pursuer cruised past, to finish a few seconds ahead. I finished in 12th position, in 24:46. Not the fastest, but more or less on the prescribed pace for the day's training.

    I ran back along the route to find Laurens. He was strongly cruising home, and I joined him for the last 500 m or so. He wanted to take a break, so I asked him to start driving after a five minute delay. I ran down the road, cleaning up the street as I went. It started raining. I really hoped Laurens wasn't going to stretch the five-minute delay. He eventually arrived, saving me from a miserable 2 km run.

    I suppose I should be happy. My marathon training programme is basically complete. I did not finish all my sessions at the prescribed pace, but in broad terms I am there. The most worrying aspect of this marathon is that everyone, without exception, tells me that it's a particularly hard marathon. I have noticed some undulations in the profile, but it really doesn't seem that bad. Nevertheless, I will leave some slack in my planning, aiming to finish about 20 minutes slower than the target pace of my training programme. Hopefully, I'll be able to cruise home comfortably, living to fight another day. Only eight sleeps...

    The Good: Completing all Pretoria's Parkruns. An eco-friendly golf course. Good distance markers.

    The Bad: Getting soaked on the way home.

    The Ugly: Do I really have to face more than eight times this distance next weekend?

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    CSIR Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2019-10-19 at 06:00

    Goal: Help as marshal, then use the Helpers' Race to get some exercise.

    Last weekend, I was out of the country. I enjoyed a 15 km run with two colleagues along the west coast of Reunion, partially on the beach. I would have to postpone my return to the normal race calendar, as I was going to be an official at this weekend's CSIR race.

    Like the previous three years, I was placed at the end of the steepest climb in the entire race. I collected Alet and arrived at 04:30 to avoid last year's trouble with access control. With 45 minutes to spare before I had to be in position, we visited the Agape club tent. I took a stroll through all the club tents and chatted to a few of the other race officials. A nasty surprise waited when I reported at my marshal point at exactly 05:15. Someone had dumped a pile of soft sand in the dirt track leading up the hill, presumably in a misguided attempt to level the ground. The soft sand was at least 300 mm deep, and my foot sank at least 50 mm into the sand as I stepped on it. I retrieved a spade from my car and started work. It was already far from cool, and I was dripping with sweat by the time the pile was reasonably spread out and firm. I compacted it as best I could, then waited for the athletes to arrive. Zelldra stopped by to check that I was there, and handed me a food package. I expected the first athletes around 06:15. Only around 06:25 did the first athletes arrive, suggesting that the start had been around 10 minutes late. I was amazed to see that a white athlete was leading the pack.

    As always, many athletes gasped for breath when they turned the corner. Having conquered a really steep climb, few of them were pleased to see the dirt track leading up the hill, with little respite in the gradient. Most of them wore a grim expression. Some were at least a little amused by my encouraging words, to the effect that the boring flat part was almost over. Danie was again the first familiar face, followed by Melani, Louis and Laurens, Hennie and Marix and perhaps a dozen other familiar faces. The nicest surprise was Ken N, who has had a recent health scare, raising fears that he may not run again. He was looking a little subdued, but half-way through a tough 10 km race is probably as good a time as any to look subdued.

    The bunch slowed to a trickle around 07:10. I retraced the route in my car to find the back markers, then started making my way to other commitments. I was looking forward to flying a B737 simulator later in the day.

    I was supposed to have done 21 km at 5:30/km on this day. I decided to catch up using Sunday's Helpers' Race. I arrived at the start at 05:50, hitting the road solo by 05:55. I meandered through Lydiana, then made my way around the outside of the CSIR. I entered the gate, then ran around the solar farm to arrive at the start at 06:55. After some administrative duties, we started at 07:00. Sizwe and Jabulani started fast, and I was right behind them. They did not know the route, so I directed them with gestures from behind at most intersections. They did a lot of unnecessary running by not asking at a few key intersections. I let them be, as I figured it wasn't a bad idea for them to add an extra km or two to the route. I was just worried they would fall asleep from boredom if they had to wait for me. As we re-entered the CSIR premises, Elaine was right behind me. I stopped to take a drink from a tap, then started up the steep hill to my perch of the previous day. No other runners were in sight. Halfway up the dirt track, Elaine caught me. I thought she had missed the small loop in Lydiana, but it turns out that she hadn't. She had simply powered her way out of the bunch and caught the three of us. No other runners were visible behind us. We chatted constantly, which helped a lot to shorten the suffering. I clearly felt the strain of almost two hours on the road, with the last quarter being very steep indeed. After circumnavigating the building in which I work, we cruised down the hill at speed.

    In the flats of the north campus, we had to negotiate two intricate loops. The intrepid runners ahead lost some time with wrong turns, and we all ended up together in the last loop. At least by now the route was simple enough that I could explain it with the limited breath available, and they shot ahead to the finish. They finished together, perhaps 30 s ahead of me. I finished just under 58 minutes. The only distance marker I noticed was at 9 km, and the last km had gone by in well under five minutes. Elaine had lagged behind in the last bit, and finished perhaps 30 s behind me. She received a gold medal as the first female finisher. I pointed out that I was the first 50+ finisher. The timer didn't believe me. I suppose I should feel flattered.

    At least I managed to complete my 21 km at roughly the right pace, considering the hills. The Soweto Marathon is in two weeks, and it looks like things are more or less on track.

    The Good: A chance to add some water to the running well.

    The Bad: The late start—I was late for my next appointment.

    The Ugly: Having to keep up with Elaine and pretend that I had any breath left at all.

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    Capital Classic Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2019-10-05 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive 21,1 km. Under two hours would be nice.

    Like last year and the year before, this race would be Agape Athletics Club's annual half marathon championship. As before, the sponsors would celebrate their Scottish heritage by encouraging runners and marshals to wear kilts. Anyone completing the half marathon in a kilt wins a Chamberlains gift voucher.

    Although I got up at 05:00, I left home a little late. I took a back road, but the traffic snarled up more than 1 km from the venue. I parked several blocks away, and had to jog to the entry tables. I bumped into Olga, whom I hadn't seen since 2017. There was no time for anything more than a quick hug. I entered at the tables, and made my way to the start with seconds to spare. I passed Elaine and Neville along the way, before finding a spot near the front of the start bunch. The start signal was only seconds late, and the bunch started moving immediately. Nevertheless, it took several minutes before I was able to jog freely. I didn't push, as I knew that we would soon face the steep climb up King's Highway. My left knee was very stiff. I really considered quitting, but it eased up after a few minutes. The first distance marker I noticed was at 3 km, at the highest point next to the bridge across the N1. I passed there in just under 18 minutes, well on track for what I had in mind. I had the impression that there were fewer kilts than in previous years.

    The descent into Innovation Hub went well, although there were lots of pebbles on the road surface. In the Hub, an all-girl trio played chamber music. I walked sections of the murderous climb up Meiring Naude. From the N1 bridge, it was mostly downhill to the finish. I ran with Fritz for some time. Today, he was going to do only one lap. I passed the 10 km mark in about 57 minutes. If I could maintain the pace, two hours would be within reach. Around 12 km, the phantom 50+ runner from our club sailed past. De Wet followed soon after. He chatted to two other runners for some time. I just tried to keep up. Descending into the Hub, I noticed how sparse the stream of runners on the lower N1 bridge was. I was clearly running in the dense part of the bunch—the average crowd!

    I again walked intermittently up Meiring Naude, arriving at the bridge frail but reasonably on time. The extra loop included some steep sections. With 2 km to go, I had less than 10 minutes left. I was not sure that I could make it. De Wet came sailing past. I could not stay with him. As we entered the grounds, he was about 20 s ahead of me. I finished fairly strongly with about 30 s to spare for a sub-two finish. I collected my gift voucher at the kilt inspection table. I spent a few minutes at the Club tent, then made my way back to the car. On the way, I saw Elaine, Walter, Ken and Louw coming down the hill. All were about ten minutes slower than I would have expected. Clearly, these hills are not to be trifled with!

    The Good: Relatively easy parking. Good marshalling. Good water points, including ample green drinks.

    The Bad: The slog up King's Highway and Meiring Naude. Twice.

    The Ugly: Who is this phantom 50+ runner?

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    Irene Spring Race Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2019-09-28 at 06:00

    Goal: 10 km in 52 minutes or so.

    This week has been chaotic, and I ended up missing my Thursday speed session. I was scheduled to do 16 km at 5:25/km, but with me being on standby and with Laurens being out of town, I decided to tackle the 10 km race at a slightly higher speed instead. I figured 5:12/km would be a good pace, resulting in a total time of 52 minutes. Theo told me he was going to aim for 47 minutes, as he hasn't been running much. Very much like "Let them eat cake" to my untrained ears. I was awake at 04:42, well before the alarm clock. I got engrossed in some reading, and was startled to realise that I was running late. I drove off at 05:25. The dense traffic only started within a block of the Irene Village Mall, and I found parking at same spot as in previous years. I found the entry tables at the opposite end of the mall, and was standing at the start with about 10 minutes to spare. Ken and I chatted while waiting, about one-third from the front. It was decidedly nippy.

    The start was about 30 s early, and we soon started moving. We crossed the start line in about half a minute, but our progress was restrained by the crowd. At the 2 km marker, we were about 90 s behind schedule. It wasn't entirely the traffic's fault. I figured that there might still have been some fatigue from Tuesday's half marathon in my legs. We passed Iain, Neville, Wallie and Gina in quick succession before hitting some uphill around the 3 km mark. The route wound through Pierre van Ryneveld before returning to the start. I passed the halfway mark in 29 minutes, three minutes behind schedule. I was grateful that Clover is no longer sponsoring this event. At least we weren't being offered iced tea this time!

    I started feeling less awkward in the second half, and found my stride at the planned pace. However, the deficit was not going to be easy to make up. The half marathon runners split off around the 8 km mark, leaving a slight downhill to the finish. A young woman in pink sped past. I asked her if she was in a hurry. She said she was. I refused to let her go, but she really was in a hurry. She opened a gap of about 100 m by the time we got to the 9 km mark, about to enter the shopping centre. The last km started slightly downhill, then flattened out for a while before facing a slight climb to the finish. I caught Lady in Pink on the flat bit, and managed to finish about 50 m ahead of her in just over 54:30. The last 2 km had gone by in well under ten minutes, somewhat faster than the planned pace. I suppose I should be happy. I'm winding down for next weekend's Capital Classic, and with some fatigue from Tuesday in my legs, it could have been worse. Now for a week with two short sessions, and we'll see how I'll fare in the steep hills near my workplace.

    Of course, there is something more ominous in my future. The Soweto Marathon is on the first weekend of November. I have never run that route, but I'm told it is not exactly easy. We'll have to see how I cope with a marathon, especially as the weather starts warming up!

    Our Club tent was not at the finish. I soon found my way back to the car. I phoned Theo, but he did not answer. I settled down at the breakfast buffet place to catch up on some reading. He eventually called me back, but he wasn't availble for breakfast. He confirmed his superiority by telling me that the route had been long, and that he'd passed the actual 10 km mark in 44 minutes. Seems like his official time will be much slower, though... like 45-something. Sigh...

    The Good: The second half.

    The Bad: The first half.

    The Ugly: Some guy who doesn't train and then beats me by ten minutes...

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    Bophelong Half Marathon and 10 km, Tuesday 2019-09-24 at 06:00

    Goal: Half marathon at 5:25/km.

    Last week was chaotic due to pressure of work on several fronts. With the absence of a road race on Saturday, I missed my weekly long run. I was therefore delighted that today, Heritage Day, there would be a race nearby. I woke at 04:30, taking the short drive to Alet's house, from where we hitched a ride with Laurens. To my surprise, there were very few cars at the venue. Alet bought a number, and we sat in the car for about 15 minutes to escape the nippy 13°C air. The start bunch was small, and we positioned ourselves about one-third from the front. The start horn went about six minutes late. We crossed the start line within seconds, although a lot of slow traffic still hampered our progress. Laurens shot off, leaving me in his wake. I took it fairly easy initially, allowing myself time to warm up. I passed the 1 km mark at about 6:15, within striking distance of my planned pace. I only saw two members of Agape; Andreas and Danie (with his dog on a leash). I soon caught Neville and Iain, chatting briefly before leaving them behind. I also slipped past Laurens near the 3 km mark. I enjoyed viewing the neighbourhood. We wound our way through Mamelodi East, in reasonably flat terrain. Most of the bystanders were very friendly. There was little traffic. I gradually made up time. I struck up a conversation with a Police runner. We soon passed the police station. I begged him to organise us transport to the finish. He didn't think it was necessary. At the end of the first lap, the 10 km finishers split off to the right to finish at the Bophelong centre. I passed the 10 km mark at 0:55, almost exactly on pace for a two-hour finish.

    On the second lap, the bunch was relatively sparse. At one point, there was a single runner about 50 m ahead of me, and another a similar distance behind. The one ahead sported an orange vest. I caught up with him around the 15 km mark, and noticed that he was from the Western Cape. I wondered what effect the thin Gauteng air was having on him. I didn't have to wait long for the answer. Around the 17 km mark, he suddenly gained speed and disappeared up ahead. I occasionally walked, trying to maintain my pace as best I could. My left knee was hurting. For the last 5 km or so, there was little variance in my pace, with km splits of between 5:20 and 5:30. With about 2 km to go, I decided to try to break 1:54. I pushed hard, making it by just a few seconds. I was very pleased. Conditions had been perfect, with an overcast and mild temperatures. Nevertheless, it was by no means certain that I would be able to maintain the pace, especially in the light of my recent lacklustre performances. Alet had already finished the 10 km race, and we waited for Laurens to finish.

    The prizegiving for the 10 km race was in progress. It was a good day to end up on the podium. I heard with some amusement that the 10 km prize in my age category and the next younger category (40+) were considerably slower than my 0:55 at the 10 km mark. Just imagine—if I had quit at that point, I would have been on the podium with a 20-minute margin to the runner-up! In the half marathon, there was no such luck. I was told that the winner in the 50+ category finished in 1:27, a whole 27 minutes ahead of me. We found our way to the car, then found a breakfast buffet before tackling the rigours of yet another public holiday.

    The Good: Finishing the half marathon at my planned pace. Little traffic. Friendly officials and bystanders.

    The Bad: No green cold drinks, except at one water point and at the finish.

    The Ugly: One can only wonder why so few people arrive at this race. Are our lives really governed by fear?

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    Lanseria Parkrun, Saturday 2019-09-21 at 08:00

    Goal: 5 km in not much more than 25 minutes.

    In the absence of an organised race today, I was planning to do a new Parkrun east of us and some additional running. Alet was going to drop me and Laurens off about 10 km from the venue. We would run there, and then do the Parkrun. It was not to be. At 05:00, the phone rang. I made my way to the airport for a medevac flight. We were making our way through emigration when we got a phone call that the patient had died, and the flight was cancelled. It was 07:35. Perhaps I could still make my way to the Lanseria Parkrun in time. I jogged back to the office, pulled directions off the Internet, jogged back to my car and drove to the venue. I dressed in a phone booth, and arrived at the start just as the announcements were starting. The route is very complex, with a short section before entering a loop. The loop had to be negotiated twice, then there was another short section to the finish.

    The start was less hectic than most Parkruns. I was eighth as we settled down at a steady pace. The route is rather hilly, with uneven surfaces. At least the grass was very short, with no surprises. The markers were reasonably good, although the instructions were not always clear. The second lap's distances were marked in faded red, not always legible with my aging eyes. The distances were not in round numbers, making pacing rather tricky. Nevertheless, I only just did not manage to maintain 5:00/km. I only changed position about four times, with a seasoned runner overtaking me around the 2 km mark and a young woman around the 4 km mark. The strong runner continued to increase his lead, but I stayed right behind the lady. Near the finish, she took a wrong turn before being corrected by a marshal. I was able to take the correct route, and finished just before her in seventh place, with about 25:17 on the clock. It is not the fastest I've done in recent times, but given the lack of forethought, as well as the rough and hilly terrain, I was happy.

    This week's training did not go according to plan. I am suffering after last weekend's long run. I was therefore pleasantly surprised by today's run. There is life in those legs, yet!

    The Good: Unexpected opportunity to do a new Parkrun.

    The Bad: Unevenly-spaced distance markers. Rough terrain.

    The Ugly: I'll have to find a way to make up the missing 15 km or so.

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    Muller Potgieter Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2019-09-14 at 06:00

    Goal: 32 km at something around 5:35/km.

    After returning from a break last weekend, I managed to complete my tempo and speed sessions this week. Today, I would have to complete the spectacular distance of 32 km at a fairly brisk pace, before rushing off for other commitments later in the morning. The half marathon would form the core of the run. I collected Laurens at 05:00 and found parking about 3 km from the start venue. We ran in the opposite direction for a while, then set off to the start. We were both a little lethargic, and it soon became obvious that we would not arrive in time for the 06:00 start. At 06:01, and about 400 m from the start, the lead cars passed us in the opposite direction, soon followed by the lead runners and the bunch. I saw several of my peers, including Melani, around 06:02. At 06:03, we turned around and joined the tail-enders. Laurens's GPS showed just over 6 km. We passed the 1 km mark at 06:07, equivalent to a slowish start. Laurens lagged behind, and I continued at my 5:35 pace as best I could. I chatted to Liezl for a while, as we hit the descent around the 4 km mark. At my pace, I would have to finish the half marathon in just under two hours. I more or less stayed on track, passing the 10 km mark around 0:58. As it did last year, the second lap descended into the depths of the river valley. I started feeling some fatigue, and didn't manage to make up much time on the descent. Getting back up to the finish took some resolve. Around the 17 km mark, it started looking like I was just barely not going to make two hours. With 2 km to go, I had only 10 minutes to get there. I thought I was going to get close, but was disappointed to finish in a time of about 2:02. Either the distance markers were suspect, or I'm coming apart at the seams...

    Our Club tent was nowhere to be found. The next order of business was to get back to my car. With 6 km completed before the race and the half marathon behind me, I had 5 km to go. It was going to require some resolve, as I was feeling rather worn. I started retracing the race route back to the car, mostly walking while cleaning up the streets. I passed first Liezl then Laurens near the 20 km mark. We briefly talked, and agreed that I was going to drive towards the finish to pick him up. I eventually got to my car much later than planned. I was not going to complete the planned 32 km. Reality was going to be more like 30 km. Clearly, the break has not done me any good. I drove back to the finish, but did not see Laurens along the way. I spent a few minutes at the Affies tent, then drove back to where my car had been. Still no Laurens. I drove back to the finish, asking the organisers whether anyone had been evacuated. No-one had been. While driving back to our meeting point yet again, my phone rang. It was TA. Laurens had called her from someone else's phone, and was at the rendezvous point. I collected him, and we headed off towards Johannesburg for my 10:30 meeting.

    I heard that we had missed some excitement at the start. Three pickpockets had been confronted by runners, with one being arrested and tied up with shoelaces. The others apparently escaped. Let's hope they'll think twice before terrorising the runners again!

    The Good: Easy parking and entries. Good marshalling and light traffic. This year, there were green drinks at every water point—a marked improvement!

    The Bad: Having to hunt for my running buddy.

    The Ugly: Even the extreme measure of leaving the car far from the start could not coax me into completing 32 km!

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    Bronberrik Parkrun, Saturday 2019-09-07 at 08:00

    Goal: 5 km in not much more than 25 minutes.

    During this morning's Brooklyn 10 km run, I realised that I would finish before 07:00. Perhaps here was an opportunity to do a Parkrun too. Two events remain undone in the Tshwane area: Bronberrik and Hillside. I decided to make my way to Centurion for the Bronberrik Parkrun. I arrived in the area around 07:30. I asked a few runners on the road where it was. Third time lucky; a bunch of runners directed me to the right place. I was directed into the parking lot and found myself at the start line around 07:50. I looked for Pieter, who is a regular at this Parkrun. I did not see him. Someone spent a long time preaching about environmental consciousness and cleaning up the brook. Yawn. They handed out rubbish bags to those that wanted, then did the customary announcements. The lack of volunteers was a major theme. Clearly, the issues around Parkrun are not confined to Bloemfontein.

    As always, the start was fast and furious. Dozens of runners were ahead, and I could not count them. The route is uneven and rocky in places. After a left turn, we climbed up the slope towards the N14. I noticed a 3 km distance marker, clearly for the second lap. I gradually made progress through the field, although the excesses of earlier in the day were not making it easy. I walked occasionally, mostly on uphills. At times, the surface under the grass was uneven, making concentration essential. I did not see any other distance markers. By the time I got to 3 km (this time for real), I was more than a minute behind schedule. A youngster in blue was running ahead. He would sprint ahead, then come to a standstill and gasp for breath. We changed places for about 2 km before I finally left him behind. By this time, we were lapping large numbers of walkers.

    I stumbled home in around 27 minutes, my slowest Parkrun in several months. I was handed number 24, feeling rather sorry for myself. On the other hand, I suppose I should be happy. After a break of almost three weeks, I'm back on the road, and managed to cover 15 km today. Hopefully I can resume a real training programme this week. The Capital Classic Half Marathon looms large.

    The Good: No traffic.

    The Bad: Only one distance marker. Rough terrain.

    The Ugly: Rough, hilly terrain, and a 10 km race earlier in the day...

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    Brooklyn 32 km, Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2019-09-07 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive 10 km after a long break. 50 minutes would be nice.

    I've been ill for several weeks, with fever and phlegm and just general misery. I spent the last week in the Arabian desert, with 40°C every day all day and not a lot of incentive to train in my state. Last night, I arrived home at 23:00 after a long flight, allowing precious little time to rest. So running today was not a sure bet, but I resolved that I would get up and go if my heart rate was under 60 when I woke. When the alarm clock went at 05:00, it was. I dragged myself out of bed and made my way to the venue. I easily found parking in the mall, entered within 10 minutes and found myself in the front quarter of the start bunch with 15 minutes to spare. It was a nippy 10°C. I didn't want to leave the bunch and jeopardise my position, so I jogged on the spot to warm up. I saw only a handful of clubmates—surprising, as this race would be this year's Club 10 km championship. I wasn't very hopeful of a good time, but as I had been planning to aim for 48 minutes at the Spirit of Flight race last week, I hoped that 50 minutes should not be outside the realm of possibility. I didn't see Laurens anywhere. I had a vague suspicion that he might well have been lured into the newly-introduced 32 km race.

    The start horn went about a minute late. We started on a gentle uphill. The bunch immediately moved, but it was a good five minutes before we were running freely. At the 1 km mark, I was well over a minute behind my pace. We were now on a gentle climb into eastern Waterkloof. De Wet shot past. I briefly considered chasing him, but decided to let him go. At that pace, I would soon burn out. I continued at a slightly uncomfortable pace, occasionally walking on the steepest uphills. I came close to the required 5:00/km pace between most markers, but did not quite make it. Around the 4 km mark, I saw Jon by the roadside with a camera. He had clearly taken the day off. To my surprise, I overtook De Wet. He didn't even give chase. By the halfway mark, I was over two minutes behind schedule. This was not going to be a good day.

    We continued to meander up into the foothills of Waterkloof Ridge, gaining height with every block. I was hoping that I would be able to cash in on the last 2 km stretch, but I was slipping further and further behind schedule. At one point, the deficit was well over three minutes. I walked occasionally, and changed places with a runner from Johannesburg. Her shoes were exceptionally noisy, and I could always hear her sneaking up from behind when I walked. I passed an unknown 60-plus runner from our club. As we commenced the descent to the finish, most of us were running at a respectable pace. We were being hampered somewhat by the 5 km fun walkers, moving slowly and weaving erratically. The last stretch of 300 m or so was level, but I continued to push. I finished just inside 53 minutes, well outside my hoped-for finish. De Wet finished less than a minute after me. Like two years ago, it seemed that most people had run relatively slow times.

    Boki directed me to the Club tent. I spent a few minutes chatting to De Wet. There was a 50-plus runner that I don't know, who had finished in 41 minutes. So much for any club championship aspirations I may have secretly harboured. Wanja stopped by and said hello. I eventually found my way to the car. During the run, a nefarious idea had formed in my mind. I would finish well before 07:00. Maybe today was the day to finally make it to the Bronberrik Parkrun...

    The Good: Good marshalling and organisation. Easy parking. Pleasant surroundings. Enough drinks, including green stuff.

    The Bad: The three-week layoff has definitely cost me.

    The Ugly: Not training is definitely not the way to go.

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    Roman's Pizza 15 km, Saturday 2019-08-17 at 07:00

    Goal: 15 km in 1:20.

    I was supposed to do 19 km at something like 5:23/km. Given that the race is only 15 km today, I decided to speed up to 5:15/km instead. I would get a good workout, without crippling me for the coming week. I left home around 6:20, feeling some time pressure. I saw Deon directing traffic at the last traffic light. I found parking about 500 m from the start. The entry was relatively painless, and I found my way to the start with about 10 minutes to spare. I saw Peter and Sanette sitting there, waiting for the somewhat later 5 km start. We chatted briefly. I joined the start about a quarter into the bunch. I could not see Laurens. Mario and Josias were near me in the bunch. A pipe band led us to the start line. Arghhh.

    The start was reasonably smooth, with an initial shallow climb into the leafy surrounds of Brooklyn. Soon, Melani came up alongside me. We ran together, chatting as much as my desperate attempts to breathe would allow. I was a little hoarse, possibly fighting off a case of the sniffles. We cruised gradually downhill into Sunnyside East. Laurens came cruising past. Melani asked me if we should chase him. I panted that I didn't have the reserve, but that we would catch him soon enough on the uphill. The bunch was nicely spread out, and I was never held up at an intersection, despite crossing numerous busy roads. Melani sailed ahead. I let her go. Pretty soon, the traffic cop at an intersection stopped the bunch up ahead. Melani was held up, while the bunch started moving again as I approached. We ran together for a while again. As predicted, we gradually sailed past Laurens as the uphill towards the University commenced. Around the 8 km mark, I lost Melani. I was suffering, walking intermittently on the uphill stretch in Lynnwood Road. By this time, I was on schedule for the planned 1:20 finish, but I would have to work hard to maintain the pace.

    The last 5 km went by relatively quickly. With 2 km to go, I had 11 minutes to make it in time. With a slight downhill grade, I was hopeful, but it was not going to be a walk in the park (sic). I kept up the pressure while cruising through the Boys' High grounds. There is a nasty little ramp in the last few hundred metres, followed by a lap on the grass track. I finished relatively strongly in just over 1:19. Melani was entering the ramp as I finished.

    For some reason, I thought it was a League race. I was pleased when I consulted the points table at the Club tent. It just so happened that 1:20 was the cutoff for seven points. I later remembered that the Spirit of Flight was actually going to be the League race. Nevertheless, I was happy with achieving my goal. I looked around for Olga. Unlike two years ago, she wasn't there this time. Laurens finished about five minutes behind me. We ambled back to the car together, chatting to Corline along the way. Laurens had other commitments, so I headed off to a solitary breakfast with a pile of reading matter. Someone had washed my car a few days before. A hadeda figured it out, and deposited the biggest dump of hadeda poo that I'd ever seen on my bonnet. So much for having a clean car for a change.

    The Good: Easy parking. Nice leafy suburban route. Green cold drinks. Achieving a fairly ambitious goal pace.

    The Bad: Not much.

    The Ugly: A pipe band at the start. Really?

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    Winterton Parkrun, Saturday 2019-08-10 at 08:00

    Goal: 5 km in no more than 25 minutes.

    I find myself in the Drakensberg for some gliding. I'm still a little tired from yesterday's half marathon, but I can't let this opportunity for another new Parkrun pass. After a night of interrupted sleep, I dragged myself out of bed at 07:00. I found my way to the location, about 9 km away, with plenty of time to spare. I gently jogged about 2 km to get myself warmed up, then lined up at the start. Most of the people around me were first timers, presumably tourists like myself. The announcer called for visitors from various regions to put up their hands. There were visitors from all over the country, as well as from Britain.

    As with all Parkruns, the start was fast and furious. The bunch quickly thinned out, and I tentatively counted 16 runners ahead of me. I gradually overtook a few, eventually settling in at number 14. The entire course is off-road, mostly on very short grass. It was a little uneven, but not terribly so. The first km went by in 4:30, somewhat too fast. I restrained myself, and passed the 2 km mark at 9:10. We were now winding downhill, running across a dam wall at the lowest point before slowly climbing back up to the start. The guy ahead of me walked occasionally, but I could not catch him. Around the 3 km mark, I noticed a tall blonde about 100 m behind me. She appeared completely uninterested in the proceedings, on a leisurely jog. At the 4 km mark, I looked around again, and noticed her strolling at a gentle pace. I could not imagine that I looked anywhere near as relaxed.

    We made our way back up to the main road, retracing the early part of the route for the last portion of the course. The guy ahead remained elusive, and Blondie continued her leisurely stroll behind me. I was handed number 17, with a time of something like 24:07. To my amazement, I was almost a minute faster than my last two Parkruns, and about 20 s faster than my personal best. This time, I didn't have the benefit of low temperatures, sea level conditions or a perfectly flat route, so I guess I must be getting stronger, and leaving the effects of Comrades behind me.

    I sat down at the Waffle Hut and had a breakfast before returning to El Mirador airstrip for the day's soaring. I wasn't expecting the outcome, with the fatigue from yesterday's race still in my legs. Apart from the usual dull pain in my left knee, I feel fine. Hopefully my prospects for a fast 10 km in less than a month are not quite as hopeless as they seemed a week or two ago!

    The Good: Good distance markers (I saw all of them). Nice surroundings and fresh air. New personal best Parkrun.

    The Bad: Not much, really.

    The Ugly: Blondie breathing down my neck, looking bored.

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    Wierie Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2019-08-09 at 06:30

    Goal: Half marathon in 1:56.

    I'm still sluggish from the after-effects of Comrades, and having trouble adhering to my programme for a fast 10 km race at the end of this month. I was hoping to break the pattern today, although I was going to shorten the prescribed 25 km slightly to 21 km. If I could at least maintain the prescribed pace, I would be happy.

    I collected Laurens at 05:50. We easily entered, stopped by at the Club tent and lined up about a quarter down the bunch at the start. The signal went on time, and we set off with Elaine. The start was slow, and we had lost about two minutes by the time the 1 km mark went by. The first part of the race is a gradual downhill, and we gradually gained time.

    Strangely, we were not blinded by the sun on the long climb from the 5,5 km mark. I was expecting a repetition of last year, when we were completely blinded as we climbed straight into the sun. Somewhere around 7 km, I lost touch with Elaine and Laurens. I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. I enjoyed the company, but it's always a little disconcerting when Elaine is chatting constantly while I'm gasping for breath.

    I passed 10 km at 0:57, on schedule for a sub-two finish. However, I would have to push hard to make the 1:56 target. I gradually gained time. By the 17 km mark, I worked out that I could finish sub-two hours even at a relatively modest 6:00/km pace. There was some comfort in the fact, as I was suffering and not certain that I'd be able to keep up the planned pace. I did some walking in the last 5 km or so, finishing just over 1:57. Given the slow start, I was happy. My legs were stiff, and my left knee slightly sore, but my heart rate was no higher than about 140 and soon settled down.

    There were goodie bags at the finish. Apart from the usual stuff, there was a nice magazine, which I was hoping to spend some time with this weekend. We drove off to buy some tools and find some breakfast. I was pretty pleased, as it was the first time since Comrades that I have managed to complete a long run at the prescribed pace. There is some hope yet that I will be ready for the Spirit of Flight 10 km race at the end of the month!

    The Good: Easy parking. Plenty of water and green cold drinks (albeit of the unbranded variety). Good distance markers. Regaining some speed after Comrades.

    The Bad: Not much.

    The Ugly: Not much, either. Now there's a first!

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    Midstream Parkrun, Saturday 2019-08-03 at 08:00

    Goal: Some gentle distance and some hectic tempo work.

    This Saturday was the Spar Ladies Race. Unlike many other men, I don't feel particularly welcome running in the Ladies Race, so Laurens and I had to come up with our own thing. The training programme dictated that we should both do 16 km, but at very different speeds. It was going to be difficult to run together sensibly. We decided to use the opportunity to try out a new Parkrun. After some deliberation, we decided to park our cars about 5 km from the Midstream event, making our way there on foot, then running back to the car after completing the Parkrun. We could then each run the Parkrun at our own pace, while running the ferry trips more or less together.

    I collected Laurens at 07:00. We hit the road at 07:22, allowing us enough time to get to the venue in relaxed fashion. Laurens complained about the furious pace, but I surmised that he was just busy with psychological warfare. We even did some urban cleanup on the way. We arrived around 07:55. The announcer did his thing with great gusto, clearly very much under the impression of his own standing as a standup comic. He welcomed a special guest, Louis Massyn, who completed his 47th Comrades recently. Louis was wearing a grey shirt, and I resolved to ensure that he would not leave me behind.

    As seems to be the case with all Parkruns, the start was very quick and consisted mostly of schoolkids. There were too many ahead of me to keep track of, so I had no idea where I stood in the bunch. I maintained pace with those around me, with just a few of the early starters dropping out and a few strongly steaming past. I quickly noticed that the distances were very well marked, with markers counting down every 500 m. I saw every single marker, starting with 4500 m and counting down to 500 m. These markers enabled me to keep accurate track of my pace. I aimed to maintain 5:00/km. Near the 4000 m marker, Laurens cruised past. Clearly, I had guessed correctly that his previous statements had been misleading. We passed Louis soon afterwards. I passed the 3000 m marker at exactly 10:00. I was making good progress, and gradually left Louis and Laurens behind. From the mid-point, the route no longer consisted of trails, rather moving onto paved sidewalks all the way to the finish. At the 2000 m marker, I was a few seconds ahead of schedule. It was not to last, though. I soon had to start walking occasionally, using lampposts to get enough rest while still maintaining a healthy average pace. A girl in a red Parkrun 50 shirt played Hare and Tortoise with me. I chased her into the final 500 m. I was a little surprised when we reached the finish, not having noticed how quickly the last bit slid past. She finished a few seconds ahead of me, and I crossed the line in just about exactly 25 minutes, almost exactly the same time as my previous Parkrun. I was handed Tag 52. Laurens finished just over a minute behind me, looking relaxed. Louis was about half a minute behind him.

    The road back to the car felt rather longer than I would have preferred. We used the opportunity to clean up the clutter that we'd missed on the way in. Nevertheless, we were relieved to see the centre up ahead where we had left the car. We drove off to find a good breakfast, before finding our way back to his house. After a long week with too little sleep, I was looking forward to a mid-day nap. It was not to be. As we stopped in Laurens's driveway, my phone rang. I drove straight to the airport and flew to the equator to pick up a medical casualty. It was a tough day, with my eyelids somehow feeling more gravity than I am used to!

    Louis Massyn had the last laugh. Even though his time was substantially slower than mine, his age grading was higher than mine. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Being a serious runner clearly helps!

    The Good: Great distance markers. Relatively uncongested bunch. Beating a legendary runner fair and square.

    The Bad: Still not being able to regain my speed after Comrades.

    The Ugly: Seeing in the results that Louis had still outdone us.

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    Zwartkop Lapa 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2019-07-27 at 07:00

    Goal: Half marathon as fast as possible; hopefully no more than 6:00/km.

    Two years ago, my target was 1:56. This year, I was hoping for 2:07. Not a great trend! It's been a rough week. With too little sleep and too much work, I did not manage to do any running. When the alarm clock went at 05:30, I was slightly congested and very lethargic. I came close to simply turning over and continuing to sleep. I eventually managed to drag myself out of bed, collected Laurens and made my way to the venue. As is customary with League races, the traffic was dense close to the venue. We found parking inside the grounds with about 15 minutes to go. The temperature was a relatively comfortable 7°C. I had forgotten how far it is from the road to the entry point, and had to take a five-minute jog down to the entry tables. I left my jacket at the Club tent and jogged up to the start. I made it with one minute to spare. I was chatting to Thabo when Laurens gestured that the race had already started. I did not hear the signal. I did not see a single other runner wearing a vest.

    Despite the wide main road, the race started very slowly. Several cars were standing in the road, snarling up the bunch. In the confusion, I lost Laurens. As we turned south towards Raslouw, I could see several hundred metres ahead of and behind me, but he was nowhere to be seen. I flowed with the bunch, at a relaxed pace. The first marker I saw was at 3 km, where I was about 2:30 behind my pace. I was definitely not feeling strong. The Gutsies sailed past on an uphill grade. I chatted to Mario for several minutes. We gradually made up time. Like last time, we split from the 10 km route around the 8 km mark, turning left toward Sunderland Ridge. I settled into a comfortable rhythm on the flat section. I arrived at the 10 km mark at 1:01, just a minute behind schedule. We entered a loop around 12 km. Brian came the other way. I didn't recognise him before he called me, as he was wearing a jacket over his club colours. To my amazement, I saw Louis leading Laurens and Iain in the loop about a km ahead of me. They were on track for a sub-two finish. I wasn't. So much for Louis's regular pleas of unfitness and weakness. Erika was perhaps a km behind me in the loop.

    Around the 17 km mark, we faced the last serious hill. I walked about half of it, otherwise latching onto a Faranani runner that maintained a pace that was just slightly too fast for me. A young girl was complaining loudly and threatening to quit. Her two male companions egged her on as they walked for a while. Soon, they came shooting past, never to be seen again. Just after the 19 km mark, we again reached the split point, and turned right to the finish. In the final 2 km, a Jacaranda runner shot past. I asked him if he was in a hurry. I decided to chase him, and we raced headlong down the slight slope to the finish. We covered the last km in 5:10 to finish just over 2:05. I found Louis and Laurens chatting at the finish. Louis indeed finished under two hours, while Laurens faded towards the end and finished about a minute ahead of me.

    I spent a bit of time at the Club tent. When I despaired of finding Laurens again, I walked back to the car. I could not find it, or Laurens. I chatted to Thabo again, then spotted Laurens. My car was closer to the road than I'd remembered. After being stuck in exiting traffic for over five minutes, we drove off to find a breakfast joint. When I got out of the car, I was decidedly stiff and awkward, with my left knee constantly reminding me of its presence. Laurens wasn't looking great, either.

    I'm decidedly disappointed by the turn of events. Given my easy sub-two a few weeks before Comrades, I was hoping to do much better than I'm doing now. Clearly, some fatigue lingers in my legs. Let's hope that things start looking up soon, failing which my plans for the Spirit of Flight race are really on the skids. Interestingly, though, my report from two years ago concluded that Laurens was still suffering from the after-effects of Comrades, so I guess I should not be entirely surprised.

    The Good: Nice route with lots of variety. Green cold drinks aplenty.

    The Bad: At least five runners with loud ghetto blasters.

    The Ugly: Why can't race organisers do something about those noisy cretins?

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    Run/Walk for Freedom, Saturday 2019-07-20 at 07:00

    Goal: 16 km at 5:23/km and get away early.

    I had to be at a meeting at 08:00. I begged my boss for some leeway, and entered for the 10 km race. I woke at 05:50, made the five-minute trip to Atterbury Value Mart, parked my car a block away where it would not get snarled up in traffic, and entered within a few minutes. It felt much colder than the 8°C on my car's thermometer. My plan was to do 6 km before the race, arriving at the start line just in time for the start gun. I had trouble getting started, and eventually ended up stumbling less than 3 km before giving up and joining the start bunch. I bumped into Wanja, Ken N, Lammie and Danie vT on the way. The bodies in the start bunch have some measure of shelter against the cold. I saw Wayne and Harry in the bunch. A group of Green Mile athletes stood in front of me. I wondered if I should start a new club—something like Blue Furlong or Red Cubit maybe? They were complaining about the limited battery life of their fancy GPS watches. I suggested that some additional training and a Comrades time of under six hours would solve the problem. They grunted.

    The gun went almost exactly on time, but it took a long time to get moving. I crossed the start line around 30 s, and finally started jogging freely around five minutes. We climbed steeply towards the M10, then started meandering through Garsfontein. I lost more than two minutes in the first km. With the gradual climb, it was quiet in the bunch. I gradually made up time, passing the 5 km mark in just under 30 minutes. I passed Melani just after the 5 km, followed shortly after by Frances. Around 8 km, I passed Frances on the descent towards Atterbury Road. An Irene runner came by at incredible speed. He claimed that he wanted to finish early, so that he could have a cold beer. I suggested that the opiate might not be necessary if he didn't run that fast. Just after the 9 km mark, Frances came up from behind and asked if I was doing a second lap. I said no, and joined her pace. The last km flashed by in under five minutes, despite the slight uphill. I finished in just over 56 minutes, somewhat slower than what I was hoping for but close enough if I take the start delay into account. Walking back to my car, I saw Melani and Wanja finish not far behind me. Given the disastrous speed session on Thursday, I guess I should be happy. I was fearing much worse. Still, my left knee did make its presence felt over the next few hours, so I am not entirely scot-free. With only seven weeks to go to the Spirit of Flight, I hope things start looking up soon.

    The Good: Close to home. Close to my target pace.

    The Bad: No caffeine-free drinks at the first water point.

    The Ugly: Pretoria remains a hilly place.

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    Hazeldean Farm Parkrun, Saturday 2019-07-13 at 08:00

    Goal: Some gentle distance and some hectic tempo work.

    A new Parkrun has sprung up in the neighbourhood. I have been looking for an excuse to try it, and here it is. Today is the Springbok Vasbyt, a 25 km mountainous torture trail masquerading as a road race. Neither Laurens nor I wanted to tempt fate, so we elected to do our own thing. Laurens collected me at 07:00. We left the car at Hazeldean shopping centre, and hit to road at 07:12. I was worried about a quadriceps injury from Thursday's speed session, but it proved to be fine. A nice gentle 6 km jog, with some cleanup in the streets on the way, and we arrived at the Parkrun venue well rested. I bumped into Elize v D, whom I hadn't seen in more than a decade. Alet also greeted Laurens and me in the bunch. The announcer screamed at us for a few minutes, seemingly unaware that the bullhorn is supposed to help. There was a lead bicycle, and the bunch strung out almost immediately. After about three minutes, I counted 30 runners ahead of me. Many of them were young kids. I wondered if they would be able to maintain their blistering pace. Sure enough, I gradually passed them one by one. After 15 minutes, I was number 22.

    The trail wound to and fro, with lots of rocks and the odd branch at face level waiting to snare the unwary. Occasionally, we hit a muddy patch. It was often impossible to pass, but slower runners would occasionally venture off the path to allow the speedsters to pass. A runner in a Comrades shirt slid past, relegating me to position 16. I saw the 4 km marker at 20:30. I maintained this position to the end, with the runners ahead gradually slipping away. I occasionally walked, but the runners behind me were coming perilously close, providing a strong incentive to keep going. I finished around 25 minutes and was handed tag 15. The official had lots of trouble to scan the token, even though my personal barcode scanned correctly at the first attempt. I asked why I was mistaken about my placing, and was told that someone had finished but declined to take a tag. Laurens finished about a minute behind me. We soon tackled the long road back to the car. Neither of us was keen to run too fast, and we alternated gentle jogging and shameless walking back to the car. We arrived in fairly good shape, making our way to our customary buffet breakfast.

    At least the quadriceps injury seems to be under control. I am hopeful that it will be history before the weekend. With only seven weeks to go before my 10 km target race, I had better get serious about my training programme!

    The Good: Bumping into Elize. Nice trail run. No traffic.

    The Bad: Not being able to overtake all the primary school kids.

    The Ugly: 17 km can be a long way...

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    Garsfontein Ice Breaker 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2019-07-06 at 07:00

    Goal: Half marathon at 6:00/km with as little damage as possible.

    Like last year, the past week involved lots of bustle with too little sleep, and I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed. Laurens had entered for the 10 km race with a view to restraining himself from too much damage in the half marathon. Nevertheless, he was planning a blistering pace—something like 5:20/km. Accordingly, I waved him goodbye in the start bunch, instead settling down near the back of the bunch with Deon. The temperature was a comfortable 6°C. Nevertheless, I saw only one other runner not wearing something warm over or under his vest. I consoled myself that the others would be sorry within half an hour, when they would have to start peeling off their scarves and jackets and parkas and sleeping bags and carry them with them in the heat of the day. The start horn went roughly on time. We spent the first 3 km or so chatting. We passed the 1 km mark at 8:15, over two minutes behind schedule. By the 4 km mark, we had lost well over three minutes. We passed Ken N, Juline and Christa. Francois came from behind to congratulate me on my Comrades finish, chastising me for keeping them in suspense with the predictions of doom on the Comrades app. At least he didn't seem to have suffered lasting damage, as he soon surged ahead and disappeared into the distance.

    Up to the 5 km mark, the route is no more than undulating. The initial descent is made up in a gentle climb that seems to last forever, followed by a steep descent to the Moreleta creek and a steep climb up Godfrey St. The rest of the route continued to roll gently up and down, about as flat as one could expect in this town. Like last year, the organisers had let us down, with nothing but water and Coca-Cola to drink. Unlike last year, I did not tuck into my emergency supplies, instead surviving the race with only water to drink.

    I gradually made up time. By halfway, I was about two minutes behind schedule. With 5 km to go, I was a minute behind. I caught Melani, who was in conversation with another runner. We briefly chatted, as I left them behind in the last km or so. I saw four runners in pink up ahead, and resolved to catch them before the finish line. I passed them with about 300 m to go, and cruised home about 10 s behind schedule. Laurens was waiting for me, looking clean and rested. I stopped at the Agape club tent to collect my token from last week. Laurens and I then left to take in our customary buffet breakfast.

    All things considered, I am reasonably happy. Four weeks after Comrades, the worst after-effects seem to have dissipated. I was over five minutes faster than last year, and in better shape. Rumour has it that the route was somewhat too long, which would mean that I comfortably achieved my planned pace. One shadow over the proceedings was a particularly painful left knee. By Monday morning the pain was back to the normal background level, but it was definitely reminding me for at least 36 hours.

    The Good: Easy parking. Relatively little traffic. Good distance markers. Leafy surroundings.

    The Bad: That knee.

    The Ugly: The organisers seem to completely ignore the requirements of anyone who is not a caffeine addict.

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    Glenfair Boulevard 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2019-06-29 at 07:00

    Goal: 10 km in no more than 56:45 to earn six League points for the Club without inflicting damage.

    To avoid overdoing things after Comrades, I was planning a post-Comrades Parkrun with Pieter O. I heard just two days before the race that he was going to be out of town, so I opted to attend the League race at Glenfair.

    Like last year, we faced a hilly course. With only two short runs behind me in the past week, I was still mindful of the recovery required after Comrades. I therefore decided to aim for no more than six points, requiring me to finish in no more than 56:45. I was hoping I'd be able to maintain that pace without hurting myself. The traffic was not very dense, and I found parking about 300 m away. The temperature was a comfortable 11°C when I left home, but as I descended the hill into the valley, it continued to drop. By the time I parked my car, the temperature was a nippy 6°C. I needed only 10 minutes to enter and leave my jacket at the Club tent. Wallie and Wanja met me on the way, congratulating me on the Comrades finish. News travels fast.

    The gun went on time, and I ran with Wanja and Wallie for the first 2 km or so. As we hit the first uphill, I felt comfortable, and they started lagging behind. I passed the 4 km mark at 24:00, too slow for my target finish but close enough that I was hopeful that I would be able to catch up. At the top of the hill, Zelldra and Neville were just ahead. I chatted to them for a while and then slid ahead. I caught Ken H and Walter and chatted to them. We caught Iain. I told them that my taper for this race had obviously not worked well. Not enough time had passed between my last long run and this race. On enquiry, I revealed that my last 87 km long run had been in KZN three weeks before this race. As is his custom, Iain grunted. Iain and Walter engaged in a lengthy discussion about the Smuts family genealogy. I gradually left them behind. In the steep uphill on Brookside, I walked two or three times. At the 8 km mark, I had about 12 minutes left to reach my goal. At the crest, as we turned left into the final straight, I saw Laurens walking up ahead. I walked behind him for a while to catch my breath, then sailed past in my final effort. I managed to sail home under 56 minutes, beating my goal by about a minute. I was pleased, as the last 5 km had sailed past in 25 minutes, and I was feeling comfortable. I visited the CSIR and Agape club tents. I chatted to Wanja and Ken N. Laurens arrived, and we chatted to Melani for a while. Several Club members congratulated me on the Comrades finish. Clearly, news also travels widely.

    Laurens and I found our way to a breakfast buffet place. My legs were in fairly good shape, although my left knee started complaining a little while later. A day later, things were back to the normal level of background pain. I hope that it means that I got away from this race unscathed. Perhaps the most gratifying aspect of this race was re-reading last year's report. That race was my first attempt to run a half marathon without excessive heel-striking. It was a painful experience, but a year later I can honestly say that the new style has become second nature. I still have some work to do, as I noticed in many of the Comrades photos that I have a nasty tendency to twist my foot at the back end of its range of motion, which I had better get rid of if I don't want trouble in the long run. Nevertheless, it seems a minor detail against the backdrop of a dramatic recovery from serious injury!

    The Good: Relatively little traffic. Good distance markers. Easy parking. Good water points. Making my target relatively easily.

    The Bad: Several nasty hills.

    The Ugly: All those so-called "friends" who tried to nudge me into Comrades for next year.

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    Comrades Marathon, Saturday 2019-06-09 at 05:30

    Goal: Survive 87 km in hilly terrain. Go home with a medal—a bronze one would be even better.

    Let me lay my cards on the table. I am not an athlete. Bad genes, old age, time pressure and a history of injury combine to make me an also-ran at short distances. My lack of endurance makes it even worse as the distance increases. So Comrades is not an easy ask. I've tried three times before, and failed miserably. With a five-year intensive rehab programme behind me, I was hopeful that I could finish the 87 km, but the outcome was by no means certain.

    Comrades is the world's first and biggest ultramarathon. It generally alternates between Up and Down runs. This year's Up Comrades, from Durban to Pietermaritzburg, climbs about 750 m in the first half, then undulates to the finish, reaching a maximum of just over 800 m about 20 km from the finish. From there, it's basically downhill—if you ignore two horrible hills that are legendary for ruining your day.

    I arrived in Durban with 1013 km in the log for 2019. The Parkrun added another five. With my recent 10 km and half marathon times, Louw's table promised a realistic shot at 11 hours, the cutoff standard for a bronze medal. However, taking into account my recent marathon performances, the picture was much bleaker. Depending on how you read it, the answer could be anything between 10:15 and 11:50. A finish would be reasonably certain, but the expected time was a matter of conjecture. I have recently been running more strongly than Laurens, but with his considerable Comrades experience I had no illusions about leaving him behind. Accordingly, we planned for an 11:30 finish, allowing enough leeway to ensure that we could finish inside the 12:00 cutoff if things went pear-shaped, but also offering the option of speeding up for an attempt at the 11:00 standard for a bronze medal. We would make the call after Inchanga, past halfway and somewhat above the finish elevation. Inchanga is the fourth of the five named hills, and by this time we would know whether we could dare to throw caution to the wind.

    Alet dropped us off near the start around 05:10. We now had to endure twenty minutes of incessant blabbering through loudspeakers, jostling by runners trying to push in ahead and lousy synthesiser music before the gun went almost exactly at 05:30. Laurens and I used our knowledge from two years ago to good effect, staying against the left fence and progressing far better than the runners on the street centreline. Nevertheless, it took over five minutes to reach the start line and over 11 before we were jogging freely. It was still pitch dark, but the freeway we were running in was well illuminated, allowing us to see the seemingly endless ribbon of runners well over a km ahead at times. Everyone was relaxed and buoyant, cruising comfortably after many months of intense training. Some seemed to be ever so slightly too serious, surging ahead through the bunch. I suspected they would later pay for their folly. Laurens wondered aloud whether we would see Alet on one of the bridges overhead. I caught a glimpse of her curly hair and shouted. Amazingly, she spotted us in the huge crowd and waved.

    Dawn came just over an hour into the race. By this time, the crowd was less dense and we were all running comfortably. Or, to be more precise, we were often walking. The mind boggled to realise that these hills were not even named. The first named hill is Cowies Hill, but before even getting there, we would have to climb almost 300 m in about two hours. I saw Willie in the bunch—the only person I recognised. He was also aiming for his first Comrades medal. Cowies Hill came and went relatively comfortably. Fields Hill was a different story. There was no measure of comfort in this steep and incessant hill. Kloof and Hillcrest offered little respite, except that we thought we might see Laurens's family. We were right. In Kloof village, Bart, Rina and Alet were standing by the roadside. I collected a packet of very welcome nuts from them. There was little respite before Botha's Hill, making it a practically uninterrupted five-hour climb to the top. Nevertheless, we were more or less unscathed and still running and walking mostly together. Laurens was regularly interrogated by fellow runners about upcoming terrain and pacing. I suppose his seven previous medals must have bought him some street cred.

    On the downhill into the halfway mark, Laurens made use of his customary downhill advantage to gain some headway. I warned him that I would not be able to keep up, and reminded him that my clubmates Hennie and Marix would wait just before the halfway mark with some supplies. I chatted to Günter, showing him my planning chart and the profile. He was running unplanned, and was relieved to know that we were on track for a medal finish. I was relieved to realise that my glycogen level was still intact—there was no way I could converse in my fluent broken German without it. He regaled me with tales of running the Marathon des Sables in the Sahara, and of running the Alps in his native Austria. Clearly, Comrades did not intimidate him! I briefly stopped to collect a sports drink from Hennie, then crossed the halfway mat well within the cutoff time. We were still perfectly on schedule. The climb up Inchanga was a slog. To my surprise, I slowly cruised past Laurens on the uphill stretch. Strangely, I had not been able to maintain his walking rate on the previous climbs, occasionally having to jog to keep up. This time, I walked deliberately, slowly cruising past less than a metre to his left. I did not feel like conversation, and assumed that he would catch me on the downhill. He didn't.

    Past Inchanga, it was time for some major decisions. Unfortunately, the decision was not mine to make. I had trouble just maintaining the planned pace for an 11:30 finish, and gradually saw my time slipping. My left knee was complaining, although still within limits, and first my left and then my right hamstring gave occasional twitches that had me very worried indeed. I still had more than a marathon ahead of me. On my previous attempt, I had remained prostrate on the road in this very area due to violent cramps. I really did not want a recurrence. Fortunately, my legs kept pumping and the twitching eventually subsided. I walked most of the uphills and ran the rest of the time. Alet was at the roadside just before Harrison Flats as promised. I asked her to advise Laurens that I was ahead, on the off-chance that he hadn't seen me pass at Inchanga and was waiting for me. Soon after, James B came running up and chatted for a minute. He was supporting his sister, who was apparently just ahead of me. I was pleasantly surprised to see James, but I don't think I made good company at that time. I did quip that I'd heard that the real race only started in the last 30 km, and that I was well on my way to the start line.

    I was mindful of the fact that my two previous "Up" attempts had faltered here. The Cato Ridge cutoff would firmly signal virgin territory. I maintained a gentle pace, partially to allow the beleaguered hamstrings to relax and partially to wait for Laurens. Just before the cutoff, Laurens caught me. We compared notes to see if we would make it. Somehow, neither of us found the mental arithmetic easy. Although I was definitely now in a better position than on any previous attempt, the lost time concerned me. The first half had gone exactly according to plan. The second half was looking less certain. With half of the "level" portion behind us, we had eroded about half of the buffer built into our original planning. At this rate, we were going to finish as the final cutoff gun sounded. There was definitely no room for complacency. I started wondering if I would be satisfied with completing the race after the gun and going home without a medal yet again. The answer was not clear to me. Completing it would be great, but returning empty-handed yet again would be devastating. I started using intermittent walking even on the flat sections, simply to survive. I repeatedly encouraged Laurens to go ahead, as I did not want him to miss his own medal on my account. He eventually did, disappearing into the distance. The twelve-hour bus came past. I let them go, as I didn't find the noise level comfortable, and I didn't subscribe to their pacing ideas. Unfortunately, though, most of the spectators found it necessary to admonish us to speed up to join the bus up ahead. Being constantly reminded that the Johnny-come-lately bus was up ahead is not conducive to peace of mind.

    I found some strength again and doggedly continued. An idiot with a bicycle appeared from behind. With no warning of his approach, I was startled to find him passing about 300 mm to my left. About 50 m ahead of me, he almost crashed into two little kids by the roadside. An official in a big bakkie came past. He promised to remove the cyclist. A while later, I passed the cyclist again, sitting by the roadside taking pictures. Soon, I heard Laurens's voice again. He was walking with Mduduzi, and sounded surprised to see me as I jogged past. He soon passed me again and disappeared up ahead. On paper, the route to the highest point at Umlaas Road had seemed so benign, with a gentle climb. In reality, it felt like a series of brutal climbs interspersed with some nasty little descents and the occasional brief flat bit. Mongezi Dlali from Morula club was shamelessly being escorted by two moving seconds wearing bright-green garb. They were apparently unperturbed by the impenetrable barrier they formed on the road. We finally crossed the cutoff mat at the highest point 12 minutes behind our planned time and only 12 minutes before the cutoff.

    Laurens started pulling ahead again. I used lampposts to keep me going, using a 5+1 survival strategy on the flat and downhill bits, and simply walking the uphill bits. The steep downhill grade imposed a punishment of its own, but at least I was able to gain some time. Little Polly proved tolerable, and I started walking up the dreaded Polly Shortts. I craved a break, but kept going. If I was going to have a chance at a medal, it was either walk or run—no standing still. Going home without a medal was an option too ghastly to contemplate. I passed Xolani, the famous amputee runner. He was taking strain, walking up that steep hill backwards for relief. To my amazement, I caught Laurens halfway up the hill. We again compared notes. We would relatively easily make the cutoff at the top, but we would only have 57 minutes to cover the remaining 7,5 km to the finish. At least there was an 80 m descent to help us. Nevertheless, the required pace of about 7:20/km would be no joke, not with more than 80 km already on these frail legs. We were both pretty determined to make it, though. A runner was lying in the grass, with a paramedic trying to measure his blood pressure. An obese guy in an official vehicle came by, dispensing advice as he went. I found his advice rather grotesque, given that I could almost see the permanent cigarette stains between his puffy fingers. His left hand was fixed in a curve that suggested that it was normally clamping a beer bottle. We were in the shade of the steep hill to our west, and it was getting cold. I shivered. A runner squirted himself with cold water, depositing some of it on my torso. It was excruciatingly painful. As the top of Polly Shortts approached, we could hear the announcer spouting nonsense on the sound system. He was adamant that we only had 7 km to go. In fact, the cutoff was just barely inside the 8 km marker. I hoped that my fellow runners still had the presence of mind to disregard his constant misinformation. Once safely past the cutoff, Laurens started running. He turned around and beckoned, but soon noticed that I wasn't quite ready to run. I motioned to him to go, and he did.

    A British runner stood in the road ahead of me. I saw bulges that looked like large marbles jumping under his skin. I have never seen such violent cramping. There was no way he was going to finish the remaining 7 km with less than 50 minutes to spare. He cursed loudly, using vocabulary that my mother would not approve of. I understood. On my previous attempt, even 27 km earlier in the race, cramping had been a bitter pill to swallow. With over 90% of the distance covered and all the major hills behind us, it must have been very bitter indeed.

    I walked for another minute or two to regain some strength, then resumed my 5+1 survival strategy. It worked. I was mostly able to stick to the schedule, except for a few short, sharp hills that I shamelessly walked. I was definitely making progress through the field, although some of them were regularly passing me again when I walked. One of them was wearing a CSIR shirt. I picked a green number named Mauri as a marker. He was likewise passing lots of people, and I almost managed to keep up with him. The sun set at the 5 km mark. Spectators kept yelling at us as we passed, using wildly inaccurate distances and times to "encourage" us. I again hoped that my fellow runners had the presence of mind to ignore the confusing propaganda. A lot was on the line now, and anything but a determined effort would result in failure. A runner was lying by the roadside, limply waiting for medical assistance. Several spectators were trying to help. With only 4 km to go, I was finally fairly certain I would make it. Barring an unforeseen catastrophe, I would finish with a minute or more to spare. I was elated. I carefully maintained a respectable pace without running a risk of breaking something. I entered the tunnel, facing a blinding floodlight, then emerged into the stadium. The last 2 km had flashed by in less than 12 minutes. It was dark at ground level, but the sky was still blue above. Hundreds of runners were labouring up the steep slope from the tunnel, making their way to the finish. The buzz was mounting in the stadium, with the final cutoff less than five minutes away. A woman was lying on the ground in the finish lane. Two other runners were encouraging her. She was unable to get up and walk. I sailed across the finish line with about three minutes to spare, and joined the frenzy at the medal tables. Willie was just ahead of me. Bokang was just behind me. In the background, the cutoff gun went. A trumpet played a funeral dirge—the ultimate slap in the face for a non-finisher. After jostling for a medal for a few minutes, I found my way to the exit. Nomatola from CSIR was next to me. I congratulated her. She explained that she had missed the cutoff by half a minute. She seemed fairly stoic about it. I wondered if I would have accepted that fate so stoically. She finished the race only three minutes behind me after 12 hours of running, and yet was going to return home empty-handed.

    The crowd was very, very dense. Spectators were leaving the stadium towards the parking lot. Runners were making their way towards the club tents. A stretcher pushed through the crowd, taking a runner to the medical tent. Another stretcher with a limp runner was parked on the ground. After what seemed like hours, I finally found my way to the tent. There were inflatable mattresses, and I unceremoniously parked myself on one of them. I simply needed a break, after almost thirteen uninterrupted hours and 90 km on my feet. Mmathotho and Keneilwe and the team offered something to eat and drink. Something salty was very, very welcome indeed. So was the blanket that they draped across me. Laurens and Alet arrived. Laurens joined me on the mattress, while Alet helped with the stretching exercises. Another runner collapsed on the mattress behind me, sticking his feet into my face. As you can imagine, those feet were not fresh. The mattress slowly deflated, eventually leaving me flat on the ground. I didn't even care. We eventually got up and started the painful walk to the car. The ordeal wasn't over yet. We were stuck in traffic at a slow crawl almost all the way back to Durban, arriving home only after 20:00. Here, things looked up considerably. Rina had prepared a meal, and after something to eat and a warm bath, we settled down for a great night's sleep.

    One portion of the story that started becoming evident only after the race was that my concern about finishing without a medal was not mine alone. Comrades is now a spectator sport, with the public being able to follow runners' progress through the Web or a smartphone app. Unfortunately, there are some ill effects. As is evident from the totally inappropriate cutoff time at the halfway mark, the Comrades Marathon Association has apparently never noticed that there is a climb in the first half of this race. A prudent pace strategy must definitely include taking the first half much more slowly than the last. However, the predictions offered to the public are apparently based on a constant pace. A well-paced runner will therefore appear to be in deep trouble as the predicted times stretch past the final cutoff. In our case, as we slipped behind our planned pace, the effect was even worse. For a considerable period, including the final stretch from Polly Shortts, the app forecast a finish time of over 12 hours. I had dozens of messages from people blaming me for everything from ruined nails to lasting stress-induced psychopathology. I was relieved to know that I hadn't been the only one bearing the burden of thinking I wasn't going to make it. I hate to suffer alone.

    I am profoundly grateful. Just over five years ago, when my severed left leg was sewed back together, there was little certainty that I would ever walk comfortably again. Running was not really an option. Fortunately, I understood the value of rehabilitation, so I bit the bullet. With Deirdre's help, I've managed to regain a fair degree of function. I still deal with a lot of pain, and inattention can wreak havoc when I run with poor style, but at least I was able to achieve my goal. A Comrades medal is in the bag, and I seem to be relatively unscathed. Within a day, my heart rate was back below 60, and on Tuesday, I was able to walk again without attracting sympathy from bystanders.

    I guess I must accept responsibility for the slightly-compulsive seven-year process that made this Comrades happen. However, there is no doubt that a lot of support was required. Willem did some nice work on my knee. Deirdre and Bridget have helped over a period of five years to walk me through the painful rehabilitation. Norrie showed me the way regarding some of the technicalities, both through his excellent book and through his personal guidance. Perhaps the most time was spent with Laurens, who originally bullied me into this Comrades thing and always offered a challenge that made me do better. He also did most of the footwork for our immaculate planning. Alet and Bart and Rina offered help and hospitality, without which it would have been that much harder to get to the start line in good shape. Hennie and Marix continue to keep the Club alive, providing wonderful support not only at races, but also at the roadside during this Comrades effort.

    I was also overwhelmed by the number of enquiries that came before, during and shortly after the race. I know these people from many different milieus mostly unconnected with running, yet they were keenly involved, sharing the uncertainty during the race. Those not mentioned already include my four sisters and my mom, the Du Preez, Engelbrecht, Fleischmann, Green and Stoffberg families, Amelia, Andy, Antoinette, Bernie, Bertus, Christelle, Craig, Francois and the Affies bunch (Dawid, Dirk, Fanie, Jean, Johann, Paul, Tersia and others), Hanri, Helet, Hennie, Henry, Hester, Moshe, JJ, Jon, Juanita, Karel, Karien, Koos, Liesbet, Liezl, Madelein, Mario, Nicola, Pieterjan, Rika, Salome, Sarina, TA, Thea and Theo.

    Of course, your first question will be: What happens next? Good question. Down runs scare me, as knees take a pounding, and my knee is not ready for a pounding. However, if it turns out that I am indeed unscathed after this year's race, perhaps I can get to a point where I am ready for a down run next year. We'll see. The incentive of a less marginal finish and a back-to-back medal at the same time may yet make me forget the agony of driving myself over this incredible distance.

    And now I'm going to quote from my favourite composer:

    Soli Deo gloria!

    The Good: A Comrades medal, after seven years of trying!

    The Bad: Pietermaritzburg is a loooooooong way from Durban.

    The Ugly: Why does the medal for completing the "Ultimate Human Race" look like a poor cousin to the medals they hand out at local 5 km races?

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    Westville Parkrun, Saturday 2019-06-08 at 08:00

    Goal: A nice, gentle jog to loosen up for tomorrow's Comrades.

    We find ourselves in Durban, ready for tomorrow's Comrades. A gentle jog over undulating terrain is just the ticket to loosen up after a week of little activity. I spent time during the week researching the three nearby Parkruns, deciding on this one as the least lethal. KZN is a hilly place.

    We arrived a few minutes before the 08:00 start. Things were fairly orderly, with the customary announcements before the start. There were many visitors from out of town. Looking around, it was clear that this Parkrun was not going to be as flat as I'd hoped. At the start, we deliberately held back. With the narrow trails, passing was not an option. We maintained a gentle jog, gasping for breath at the steep slopes and the muddy trail. It definitely wasn't going to be an easy jog. A 60-something runner in a yellow T-shirt set a comfortable pace, and I followed him around the trail while exchanging ideas about Parkruns and various other topics. I gave serious thought to bailing out after one lap to minimise damage, but decided to continue. I at least wanted to be able to tick Westville off the list without having to face it ever again! The yellow T-shirt took a tumble on a solitary rock after about 3 km. He took a few seconds to gather his wits, and I cruised past. I allowed several runners to sneak past, ensuring that I would not be tempted to overdo things. Eventually, I cruised home in about 41 minutes, getting tag number 49 for my efforts. It was my slowest Parkrun by a long shot, but at least I seemed relatively unscathed.

    Laurens cruised home about three minutes after me. We chatted for another 20 minutes. When Alet arrived, we ambled back to the car and made our way home to Kloof for a relaxed breakfast before some shopping and our trips to the Expos to collect our numbers. I was hoping madly that we hadn't overdone things. Throwing away my chance at Comrades in exchange for a Parkrun is probably not a good trade...

    The Good: Nice natural environment, with lush vegetation a lots of green.

    The Bad: Slippery trail paths.

    The Ugly: Slippery trail paths with extreme gradients. Hey, we picked this Parkrun to be as flat as possible!

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    Race of Faith 15, 10 and 5 km, Saturday 2019-06-01 at 07:00

    Goal: 15 km at 07:00/km.

    I didn't hear from Laurens, so I collected Alet at 06:24. We found parking in the same spot as last year, entered and left our jackets at the Club tent. It was bitterly cold, and those jackets were sorely needed.

    We arrived at the start with plenty of time to spare. I set off at the back of the bunch, not wanting to be tempted to run too fast. With only eight sleeps to Comrades, recovery was the name of the game. I passed Ken S in the bunch, even before breaking into a proper jog. As we entered Silver Lakes, I spent some time chatting to Francois and other Affie Guts guys, telling them that I was going to hit 1003 km for 2019 at the end of today's race. So, obviously, I had to explain to them why 1003 was a big deal, singing a few snippets from Don Giovanni as we ran. The runner next to me excitedly started talking to me in Italian. At the 2 km mark, I realised that I was going too fast, and bade the Affies farewell. As they disappeared up the road, I noticed Ken N ahead. I gradually caught up with him and ran with him for some time. Around the 5 km mark, I decided to walk for a few minutes to relax. My heart rate was around 120. For a while, we joined the tail-enders of the 5 km walk. The traffic was dense, with hundreds of slow walkers and several luxury cars vying for the same road space with us. None of the familiar marshals were on the route today. I glided past the Van Tonder home, but there was no sign of life. I compared notes with Elsa and another walker. They were also planning to finish around 1:40, and I decided to use them as a pace marker. I also re-calculated my goal pace. Based on my successes of the past two weekends, I could probably afford to go a little faster than originally planned. I revised my goal pace to 6:30/km.

    Around the halfway mark, I stopped to count my pulse. While intently staring at my stopwatch, I heard my name being called. It was Juline, who was running with two companions. They were doing the walk-run thing, walking for a minute and running for four minutes. I joined them. The two friends were going too fast for my and Juline's liking, but we managed to restrain them and maintain pretty much my goal pace. I was grateful for the forced restraint. Juline and I chatted, and she was suitably excited when I reached an annual total of 1000 km at the 12 km mark. I didn't share my insights about Don Giovanni with her. At the 13 km mark, the 10 km runners rejoined our route. We continued to walk and jog. I was gratified to notice that my pulse remained around 120. Just after 13 km, we passed Alet, who was walking on the 10 km route. Around the 14 km mark, Juline decided to race ahead to get water for her companions. I continued at the slow pace, finishing with the other two in a comfortable 1:37.

    At the Club tent, the Venters handed out envelopes with some Comrades pocket money. After some brief shopping, I returned to the car. There was a message from Laurens. He was not feeling well, and had decided to sit out. Not great timing, only a week before Comrades! Although my left knee has been slightly niggly since last Saturday and my calves are still somewhat tender, things are looking good. After Tuesday's time trial, I'll probably take only another short jog before the big race. Maybe it's time to take in another new Parkrun venue near Durban!

    The Good: Scenic flat route, mostly inside the opulent neighbourhood. Light traffic. Good water points with lots of Cream Soda.

    The Bad: Not much, just like last year.

    The Ugly: The local residents who refuse to slow down when thousands of runners share their streets for an hour or two.

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    Spar Hercules half marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2019-05-25 at 07:00

    Goal: 10 km in under 52:30 to earn 7 league points for the Club.

    With only two weeks to Comrades, I'm winding down. I decided to do only 10 km, but to crank up the pace. Scrutiny of the League points table revealed that I would have to break 52:30 to earn seven points for the club. In the light of last week's half marathon, it seemed feasible, but I would have to work at it. Accordingly, Laurens and I arrived early to allow us to warm up and find our way to the front of the bunch for the start. We worked our way past huge traffic jams going in the opposite direction, on the way to the Presidential inauguration. We found parking only about 300 m away—a surprise, given the League status of this race.

    We jogged just over 2 km before the start, arriving from the front. We snuck into the bunch against the right wall, hiding behind a car. The chief referee made an inaudible announcement, and the gun went on time. Being in the front row, and being properly warmed up, we immediately managed to run comfortably. Josias shot by, disappearing up ahead. The 1 km marker flashed by in 5:10, and the second in 10:10. I would have to restrain myself, as I was going much too fast. I decided to walk at each distance marker, to maintain something a little closer to my planned pace. It worked well up to the 5 km mark at 25:20. A female runner from Love Running ran right in front of me for more than 2 km, spitting every minute or two. Twice, she managed to spit on me. I was grateful when she pulled ahead on one of my walk breaks. Josias remained tantalisingly close ahead, but I somehow could not catch him. Fanie sailed past, looking strong. It's always disconcerting when a much older runner shoots past with such contemptuous ease. Around the 5 km mark, De Wet caught me from behind. I stayed with him, and we soon caught Josias. De Wet was also doing the 10 km race, while Josias was going to do another lap. Around the 7 km mark, they lagged behind. I was well ahead of schedule, and 50 minutes appeared feasible. De Wet soon caught me again, and we ran together to the end. De Wet does not believe in walking, so the last 3 km flashed by in 13 minutes. We even passed Fanie. We crossed the line in about 48:45, almost four minutes ahead of schedule. I was astonished. I hadn't ever bothered to check the cutoff time for eight points. It turned out to be exactly 48:45, within seconds of our finish. I await the official results with bated breath. Earning eight League points would be a first for me!

    Laurens and I cruised home via a detour to avoid the political traffic. We took in a leisurely breakfast on the way home. I'm writing this story in the evening. So far, it seems that I escaped unscathed. With two weeks to go before Comrades, things look promising!

    The Good: Easy parking. Good marshalling. Flat course. And a pleasant surprise, arriving four minutes earlier than I'd hoped!

    The Bad: Not checking the eight-point cutoff in advance.

    The Ugly: The Cobra from Love Running.

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    Quatro Race of Hope half marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2019-05-18 at 07:00

    Goal: Half marathon in under two hours.

    Last week's performance made me wonder if I could do a half marathon in under two hours without getting into trouble. Specifically, I didn't want to run the risk of injury so close to Comrades. I resolved to try, but to reserve the right to back down if I felt I was overdoing things. With the reasonable start time and close proximity of the Grove Mall to my house, I only needed to get up at 06:00. Unfortunately, I was stuck at work until well after midnight, and only got to bed after 01:30. I felt rather the worse for wear when the alarm clock went, but got up and found my way to the venue. I easily found parking and was ready at the start line with 10 minutes to go. I saw Ken and Walter beforehand, and found Neville in the bunch. I decided to start slowly, given the lack of sleep. Perhaps two hours would not be in my future for today.

    The start was exactly on time, but the bunch started moving slowly. I crossed the start line at 1:30 and only managed to reach a comfortable pace after about 3:30. I cruised past Laurens within about 3 km. He was taking it easy. The first marker I saw was at 4 km, by which time I was about three minutes behind schedule. We cruised comfortably, and gradually made up time. Suddenly, Neville accelerated and disappeared up ahead. I found Roald, and we chatted for a while. The terrain was reasonably flat, with no more than undulations to be found. Roald suddenly disappeared around 7 km or so. I passed Wallie, then caught Neville again. I cruised behind him for a minute or two to regain my strength before suddenly sprinting past him. The psychological warfare worked. He didn't even try to keep up. He was pretty close to the finish, and I had another full lap left. Around the 9 km mark, cruising uphill to return to the Grove, I caught Wanja. We chatted briefly before she turned right to the finish. Perhaps four years ago, exactly the same situation had played out in the same race, when both of us were trying to return from sports injuries. I passed the 10 km mark at 0:58, having gained about five minutes on a 6:00/km pace. At this rate, I could easily break two hours.

    I was feeling comfortable. I was pursuing Iain and Jenny, but did not make headway. In the second-lap loop, I noticed Ken and Walter about two minutes ahead, and Brian about one. Brian said he would wait for me. He did, and I caught him soon after. I knew it wouldn't last. It didn't. Around 14 km, he pulled away and disappeared into the distance. I passed Iain, but Jenny maintained the gap. I passed Ken and Walter, and Danie from Phobians passed me. I could not keep up. By this time, I had lots of time to spare, and was pretty certain that I would make the two-hour mark. I continued up the slight hill, covering the last 3 km in about 16 minutes and finishing in well under 1:56. I was relaxed, and pleasantly surprised. I waited for Laurens at the Club tent. He did not come. I chatted to Josias and Hennie and Iain, but Laurens was still nowhere to be found. By this time, I was worried. I decided to go and look for him along the route. I bumped into Neville and Sizwe, and arranged that we would meet at a nearby buffet place for breakfast as soon as I could locate Laurens. I returned to my car, and retraced the route for about 3 km. He was nowhere to be found. Fortunately, within minutes of us sitting down in the buffet joint, Laurens walked in. He had finished relatively slowly, blaming intense exam pressure and a lack of sleep in the past week.

    I'm excited. I've proved beyond doubt that I'm capable of more than I've been doing recently, and I now have some assurance that reporting to the start at Comrades is not a waste of time. This week was my last full training week. The next three weeks will be easier, with decreased distances and decreased intensity. Hopefully, the worst is over.

    The Good: Easy parking. Good marshalling. Relatively quiet roads. Flat route. A fast time—better than expected—and no obvious after-effects.

    The Bad: No caffeine-free cold drinks, except at the finish.

    The Ugly: Yet another Fat Cats runner (race number 2713) who can't keep his "music" to himself.

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    Jackie Mekler 25 and 10 km, Saturday 2019-05-11 at 06:30

    Goal: 25 km at 6:00/km.

    Last year, I was recovering from an injury. This year, I'm supposed to be in full Comrades preparation mode. It is therefore not very gratifying to note that my target pace is exactly the same as it was last year. It's been a difficult week, with the sniffles keeping me in bed for more than a day, and the need to fit in 28 km of training before this morning's race. I was going to try a new secret weapon—good quality compression socks that were supposed to relieve the strain on my embattled calf muscles.

    I collected Laurens just before 05:50. We got snarled up in traffic just over 1 km from the venue, but crawled into position with enough time to make our way to the start in relaxed fashion. We chatted to Josias and Roald in the middle of the bunch. The start was on time, and the bunch flowed relatively well. I passed Pieter and his Alpha Centurion clubmate. Clearly, they were taking it easy, using the race as a gentle long run. The first marker I saw was at 2 km, at which point I had lost about 3:30 to my pace. This deficit remained constant for another 2 km, until we started descending into the Six Mile valley. Roald and I were chatting, and we lost Laurens somewhere along the way. I expected that he would catch up with us on the downhill, but it didn't happen. We gradually gained time, getting to the 10 km mark at 1:01. It looked like reaching my goal would be relatively easy. I lost Roald at a water point around 12 km or so. I saw Mr Lenoge on the descent. Unusually, Audrey was not with him. We were accompanied by a sound track of revving engines from the Zwartkops raceway further west.

    As always, the climb from Wierda Bridge to the Heights was laborious. Around the 15 km mark, Francois and Dawid came cruising past. Clearly the Affie Guts worked for them. I chatted to them for a while. They lagged behind, but pretty soon Francois came shooting past with a girl from his club in tow. I tried to keep them in sight. Francois eventually disappeared into the distance. Around 19 km, I caught Ken and Walter with a Phobian. We ran together for a while, with them lagging behind at the 21 km mark. Brian came cruising past, clearly not feeling the pain that I was feeling. I chased him for a while, passing the Affies girl and Nats in the process. I needed some walk breaks, but still managed to complete the last 3 km in about 16 minutes. My final time was under 2:27, about three minutes faster than my goal pace. Laurens and Pieter finished soon after me, Pieter within 1 s/km of his goal pace. There were few members at the Club tent. I went to find some cold drinks, and met Pieter and Laurens there. Pieter wanted to do another 5 km or so, so Laurens and I started walking back to the car. At least there was no air show, so traffic was relatively comfortable. We found a place near Laurens's house, and had a hearty breakfast.

    I was happy, with a relatively effortless finish at about 5:52/km. I ran the last 21,1 km in less than 2:01, suggesting that an all-out half marathon effort should produce a time well under two hours. I definitely finished stronger than last year, and a few minutes faster. The jury is still out on the efficacy of the compression socks, but at least I have not noticed any serious ill effects.

    The Good: Good distance markers; I saw all but one. Good marshalling and not too much traffic.

    The Bad: No caffeine-free drinks at most of the water points.

    The Ugly: Valhalla is decaying. We passed two huge holes in the road that have been around for more than a year, and the major road to Laudium is permanently closed due to a tree that's collapsed onto it.

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    The Love Run Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2019-05-04 at 07:00

    Goal: Survive the Half Marathon three days after a full marathon. Not faster than 7:00/km.

    Last year and in 2017, this race had cold and wet conditions. This time, it was much more pleasant. Sunny and cool conditions were forecast. I had some misgivings about running the half marathon in hilly terrain just three days after the Wally Hayward marathon, so I did some reading the previous night. With copious reading and a calculator, I decided that it was worth a try, as long as I could maintain the ridiculously easy pace of 7:00/km. I knew it was going to test my resolve, as I tend to speed up if I feel comfortable, but this time the risk of injury was too great. Those calves were still somewhat tender. It would be interesting to see if I could simply reserve myself to the slow pace and carry on for almost two and a half hours.

    The previous night was unpleasant. I had a bout of sniffles which didn't get much better, despite a saline rinse and lots of Vitamin C. Around 03:00, it started clearing up. I was up a little before the alarm clock, arriving at the site with about 20 minutes to spare. I easily found parking and joined the back of the bunch at a nippy 15°C. I found Neville and Sanette there. Laurens joined us soon after. He was surprised to hear about my pace target, and deservedly sceptical about my ability to maintain that slow pace. The announcer said that no "listening devices" would be allowed, and that transgressors would be disqualified. I wondered if his threat would yield results. The walkers started at exactly 06:45, with the runners exactly 15 minutes later. The bunch flowed reasonably well on the uphill. Like last year, we soon crossed January Masilela into Constantia Park. If found it strange, as the 10 km runners would have to cross this main road twice, and the half marathon runners four times! We cruised in an unfamiliar part of the bunch. The few familiar faces that were there, were Comrades candidates cruising slowly and comfortably. I was amazed to see how many of them had been in the marathon bunch with me three days before.

    To my amazement, we gradually lost time to our target pace. How could anyone lag behind such a modest goal? I resisted the temptation to speed up. We had a long downhill to cope with at the end of the lap, and we were bound to spontaneously make up some time. I was right. From about 7 to 9 km, we descended down the same hill that we traversed in the Castle Walk race, and arrived at the 9 km mark almost exactly on schedule. Now if we could repeat the same thing for another lap, we would be in good shape.

    With the bunch thinned out somewhat, we cruised through the streets in relaxed fashion. I chatted to Johann for a while. A female runner from Hartbeespoort played Hare and Tortoise, sitting by the roadside and massaging her forefoot cushion on a regular basis. As she came shooting past after one of her stops, we chatted. She suffers from cushion atrophy, a symptom of overweight or overuse. In her case, it definitely wasn't overweight. I ran with a female runner for about 20 minutes. We chatted about our respective Comrades efforts. She was hoping for her first Up finish. Laurens started prodding me around the 14 km mark, and we sped up slightly. I warned him that I did not want to exceed my goal pace. We finished a few seconds inside our goal pace, at just under 2:28.

    I was happy. I was impressed at my resolve to maintain such a slow pace. My calves were in reasonably good shape, and I was not conscious of a marked change in style. The sniffles did not overwhelm me. A left-heel blister from the marathon did not get worse. And my left knee was no more painful than usual.

    Unfortunately, the sniffles eventually did get the upper hand. By bedtime, I was in bad shape. I write this piece on Sunday night, having spent the entire day in bed. I don't feel much better, but I hope my body is fighting back. This coming week is a 55 km week, terminating in the Jackie Mekler memorial 25 km race on Saturday. If I want to do 30 km before then, the sniffles had better start clearing up pretty soon!

    The Good: Good organisation. Relatively little traffic. Great running weather. Strong resolve to maintain the slow pace. No runners with boom boxes!

    The Bad: Not much, actually.

    The Ugly: The sniffles getting the upper hand.

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    MiWay Wally Hayward Marathon, Half Marathon and 10 km, Wednesday 2019-05-01 at 06:30

    Goal: Survive the marathon intact. G seeding (<4:35) would be nice.

    As I've already qualified for Comrades, there was no pressure to complete this marathon in a spectacular time. Instead, I was hoping to use it as a gentle run to get more distance on my legs. The calculators and lookup tables were unanimous that I could do a 4:15 marathon now, so 4:30 sounded like a nice gentle goal. It would also give me a G seeding, something that would do little other than to set my mind at ease that travelling to Durban would not be a total waste of time. Last year, I did the half marathon after a layoff due to an injury. This time, I was hoping to conquer the full marathon.

    Marita had entered for the half marathon, and was going to do the first lap with me. My pace would be easier than she could probably manage, so I reserved myself to the fact that she would probably get bored at some point. I made a series of rendezvous arrangements with Louw, hoping that we could meet well before the race, at the start or during the race itself. I collected Laurens. We found parking about 500 m away. We identified the club tent where we would meet after the race, then made our way to the first rendezvous. Louw and Marita were not there. We then slid up the right side of the bunch, and managed to squeeze ourselves into the bunch about 50 m from the start line. Again, Louw and Marita were absent. As with previous attempts, the start was huge. The announcer claimed 9000 entries. The start gun was hardly audible. We walked across the start line around 1:15. It was over 3:00 when we were finally able to start jogging. By the first left turn, I'd completely lost Laurens. I stood and waited for Marita for over a minute, then gave up. Something had clearly come up. I made my way up the hill, gradually finding a fairly natural rhythm. I was again amazed by the continuous ribbon of humanity ahead. In places, I could see more than a km ahead, and the entire width of the road was covered in a multi-coloured ribbon of humanity. I did not see any first-lap distance markers before 7 km, although I'd seen most of the second-lap markers. By this time, I was over two minutes ahead of schedule. I immediately started taking more time to walk, gradually erasing the advantage. I passed Sandra, who was taking a break in a side street. My own tummy was distinctly uncomfortable, and I was keeping an eye open for a toilet.

    In the loop near Waterkloof Air Force Base, I was amazed to see Louw about three minutes behind me. Clearly, he had taken Marita's place. We waved, and I knew that it was a matter of time before he caught me. Indeed, around the 10 km mark he was next to me as I was taking a walk break. We continued to chat on the long downhill down the M10. As I was now much more mindful of not exceeding my planned pace, a bus started overtaking us from behind. Around the 13 km mark, the 4:20 bus caught us. Louw decided to stay ahead of them, while I decided to take a toilet break and let them pass. There was a queue of three guys in front of two toilets. I waited for two minutes. Not one toilet became vacant. I gave up, continuing down the road with considerable discomfort. Some time later, I saw another toilet with no queue. I was in and out, feeling very relieved. While I was in there, I heard another bus passing. Other runners told me it was the 4:35 bus. I continued to see them up ahead for a long time, but they were too fast for their goal pace—like most buses are. Just before the halfway mark, I saw Pieter by the roadside. I passed the 21 km mark at exactly 2:15, perfectly on schedule.

    I continued to cruise, walking most of the uphills and running the rest of the time. This time, I saw most of the first-lap distance markers. The dense bunch on the first lap must have prevented me from glimpsing them on the fly. I remained perfectly on pace, although to claim that it was effortless would not be entirely truthful. I was gratified to sail past Iain on the M10. At 36 km, I was still perfectly on track. At this point, I realised that even if I walked the rest of the way, I would finish in under five hours. It was a reassuring thought. I collected a frozen sachet of ginger ale at a water point. It took considerable work to drink the frozen drink, and I walked while I did so. By the time I'd managed to consume the whole thing, I was way behind schedule. I continued to jog, but soon realised that there was no prospect of making the 4:35 cutoff. I was going to miss it by a minute or so, and I was taking strain in the process of trying. I decided to take it easy, rather cruising home with minimum damage so as not to endanger my training programme. I again passed Pieter on the way in, and finished comfortably in almost exactly 4:40. Laurens finished a few minutes after me, also in reasonable shape. Unfortunately, the sponsors had run out of the customary refrigerated pink face cloths. And of course, us tail-enders needed them most!

    Within three hours, my pulse was below 80. Within five hours, it was down below 60. My calves were slightly sore for the rest of the day, but by morning it was well under control. My left knee is decidedly sore, much more than the normal dull pain. However, it's getting better with time. Laurens is putting pressure on me to do a half marathon on Saturday. I'll probably reserve the right to bail out halfway, but I'll give it a try. If it works, I'll definitely start booking accommodation in Durban.

    The Good: Again, an amazingly smooth start despite 9000 athletes. Good parking and traffic management.

    The Bad: Noisy fellow runners with music boxes.

    The Ugly: Why do runners dump huge volumes of plastic on the roads, when Sunday's long run was perfectly clean?

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    Magnolia Long Run, 15/30/45 km, Sunday 2019-04-28 at 06:00

    Goal: 15 km with no ill effects

    With the Wally Hayward marathon on Wednesday, I was definitely not looking for anything adventurous. I have to preserve myself, failing which the marathon could become an ordeal. I collected Laurens around 05:40. We easily found parking and were registered and ready to go with some time to spare. We bumped into Jonathan, and as we were all planning similarly gentle paces, we started together. Like last time, there was an inaudible speech of considerable duration, with the crowd increasingly mumbling and making it ever harder to hear. We started about five minutes late, with a gentle uphill past my old primary school. We were on the road well before sunrise. Running conditions were very comfortable. Laurens and Jon were chatting continuously, and I repeatedly waited for them. I used them as a pace marker, specifically to avoid running too fast. Around the 2 km mark, Deon popped up next to me. We chatted, and soon found ourselves about 200 m ahead of my markers. We talked about careers and E-toll and holidays and taxes and the government, solving the world's problems in one fell swoop. Jon cruised past around the 6 km mark. Beate followed soon after. We kept both of them in sight for a long time, cruising through the leafy neighbourhood of Brooklyn.

    Each water point had one or two dustbins, and all the runners dutifully deposited their water sachets and other rubbish in those bins. I did not see a single piece of rubbish on the streets. If over a thousand runners can get it right, why do our races normally look like a rubbish-strewn disaster area?

    Pretty soon, we approached the finish. Jon and Beate finished just ahead of us. Laurens finished a few minutes later. I availed myself of the PVM products on offer, then walked back to the car to make my way to church. My left knee hurt badly, something that hasn't happened in a while. I could not identify any reason for the pain. It subsided back to the normal dull pain within a few hours, and my heart rate was back below 60 within an hour or two.

    The Wally Hayward marathon looms on Wednesday. On the following Saturday, there is a particularly hilly half marathon. After that one, things will start winding down. By next weekend, I'll know if a trip to Durban is in my future.

    The Good: Easy access. Nice scenic route. Great refreshments. No littering!

    The Bad: Not much.

    The Ugly: That niggling left knee came as a nasty surprise.

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    Lynnridge Family Day 6, 11 and 22 km, Monday 2019-04-22 at 07:00

    Goal: 22 km at 6:00/km.

    Last year, Marita resolved to complete a half marathon before her 21st birthday. 21 before 21, you see. I was called away on a flight at the last moment, and missed the occasion. Amazingly, this year there was a nearby 22 km race just before her 22nd birthday, so I again offered to join her. And as fate would have it, I was offered my first flight in two months for today. I declined the flight with a heavy heart, but there isn't going to be another opportunity—there are no 23 km races. On Saturday, I nonchalantly asked what pace Louw and Marita would be aiming for. They nonchalantly picked 6:00/km. It wasn't what I was hoping to hear, but I accepted. No harm in facing a challenge now and then. Rain was forecast during the latter part of the race, but at least the overcast conditions and a nippy 15°C would make for pleasant running conditions.

    Like the last time I did this race two years ago, there was little traffic. Around 06:35, I happened to park right next to the van Zyls, within a few hundred metres of the centre. Amanda had also joined the expedition. We entered relatively quickly, and were ready at the start line with several minutes to spare. The start signal was right on time, and again the bunch flowed immediately. We passed the 1 km mark at 6:15. The first km or so consisted of a serious downhill, followed quite quickly by a serious uphill. I exchanged niceties with Iain on the way down, and passed Laurens on the way up. After about 4 km, we were almost exactly on pace. We gradually gained a few seconds; not a bad thing, considering that we would face a nasty climb in the last km or two of the lap. We were all comfortable, and on the way up they followed my lead when I shamelessly walked up the steep parts. I'm not sure if they were as shameless as I was. From about 5 km, I saw Lammie up ahead. He also walked intermittently, but it took a long time before I finally caught him. In the flat portion in the last km or so, he outsprinted me. I had to conserve myself, so I let him go. Just before the Lynnridge centre, a marshal offered conflicting signals. I had no idea which way to turn. I eventually had to stop in my tracks and ask him specifically what to do. Only then could I continue with a degree of certainty.

    The second lap was more or less a repetition of the first. We even cracked the same jokes in the same locations. Yawn. We had settled down in a bunch of runners, including Brian. Of course, Brian was using this race as a recovery run, cruising at an effortless pace just to loosen up the muscles after his recent 56 km ultra. His effortless pace just happened to coincide with our gut-wrenching, breathless best efforts. Pieter caught us around the 17 km mark. Louw was suffering, and suggested that we leave him behind. It didn't last. Pretty soon, Louw again joined us, apparently rejuvenated. Just before the steepest hill, Louw again decided to walk. After a brief discussion, Pieter volunteered to keep him company while Marita and I chased our planned pace to the finish. As we crested the hill, I was gratified to see that Marita was taking strain. I resent the fact that good genes and youth can outrun dogged determination and lots of effort, so at least I wanted it to come at a price. We had to run the last 2 km at under 5:20/km to finish in time. We implemented a 5+1 survival strategy. We passed the half marathon mark in just over 2:08, besting her previous attempt by about 12 minutes. Soon after, a loudmouth with a loudhailer cracked the lame joke about not being allowed to walk in running shoes. I immediately took off my running shoes and continued barefoot, much to the amusement of the bystanders. Marita seized the opportunity to race ahead. With my soft soles on the hard tarmac, I could not keep up. She finished some 10 m ahead of me, about 20 s behind our planned pace.

    I was very happy to have been able to share the 22-before-22 with Marita. Louw and Pieter finished about a minute behind us, also in good shape. Amanda had finished the 11 km comfortably, and was already well rested as we finished. Laurens finished some time later, and I had trouble finding him at the finish. We eventually got in touch by phone, and set off for a buffet breakfast at a nearby centre. It turned out that Laurens had also had trouble understanding the same marshal, and had also had to stop completely to get meaningful guidance. Much of the discussion centred around our next week or two. Technically, we're already winding down for the Wally Hayward marathon in about 10 days. We'll have to manage ourselves very carefully to remain strong and injury free. At least we seem to have survived our back-to-back sessions of over 20 km in hilly terrain intact. I'm careful not to jump the gun, but maybe it's time to start shopping for accommodation in Durban...

    The Good: Easy access. Nice scenic route. Good marshalling. And Paul and Ryan were not there.

    The Bad: No green drinks—again! The marshal whose gesticulations lead at least two of us astray.

    The Ugly: Marita leaving me behind in my most vulnerable barefoot state.

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    Castle Walk 10 km, Saturday 2019-04-20 at 07:00

    Goal: 20 km or so, including the 10 km race in under an hour.

    After last year's race, I told myself never to run the Castle Walk race and a half marathon in the same week again. Unfortunately, my short term memory is aging, and I didn't re-read the race report before this year's race. So I found myself entered for this year's race, and making plans with Laurens to cover 20 km today, including the race. We parked at Parkview, exactly 5 km from the start at Castle Walk. The idea was to start from the cars at 06:20, giving us enough time to make it to the start. We departed on schedule, making our way to the start via a slight detour. We avoided the worst hills in this way, but were distracted by cleaning up the streets and arrived near the start a little late. We heard the start signal from a block away, and joined the field from behind. I left Laurens behind, as he was planning to run more slowly than I was. I crossed the start line over a minute late, and made my way up the steep hills. At the 1 km mark, I was almost two minutes late. On the steep downhill that followed, I gradually started making up time. I passed Gina and Christa, and spent several minutes chatting with Deon. By the 4 km mark, I was slightly ahead of schedule. A solitary nut case came up the road against the stream of perhaps 2000 runners. He crashed into one or two, then initiated a shouting match and demanding an apology. A highly sarcastic apology seemed to satisfy his fragile ego, and we proceeded downhill. I passed the lowest point just after the 5 km mark about a minute ahead. It was a sombre thought that I'd have to cover the second half in the same time as the first half, even though it would be almost all uphill. I passed Lammie, then climbed up the steepest incline while walking with Sandra. She never broke her stride, but I was able to make up some distance on the few flat sections we encountered. We joined the 5 km tail-enders at this time. By the 8 km mark, I had left her behind. I had about 11 minutes to go. It would be tough, but it was doable. I continued as fast as I could, arriving at the finish with about 30 seconds to spare.

    A surprise waited for me in the finish lane. An official called after me after I'd passed through the finish line. She took down my details and told me that I'd won a prize. She was a little uncertain, and told me to confirm with her later. I ran back along the route to find Laurens. I found him near the 9 km mark. I continued to the mark, then turned around and pursued him to the finish. He had gained a second breath, and I could not quite catch him. I checked with the official, and she confirmed that I was the third finisher in my age group. I suppose a third place in an age category on an overpriced race that coincided with the iconic Two Oceans is no great shakes, but it is my first podium finish. The prize money covered my entry fee, too. Laurens and I started back to the cars, again taking it easy and wasting some time cleaning up the streets. Once back at the cars, we went off to have our customary breakfast.

    All in all, it was a pretty successful day. The biggest question is what will happen on Monday. There is a 22 km race on Monday, and it remains to be seen whether I can cope with that race after today's 23 km and the week's 59.

    The Good: My first podium finish! A successful 23 km training session.

    The Bad: No caffeine-free cold drinks on the route.

    The Ugly: These hills are still not getting any better.

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    Frenus Zietsman Race against Drugs 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2019-04-13 at 07:30

    Goal: Earn 5 points for the club in the half marathon and don't get hurt.

    Less than a week after the Irene Ultra, I was wary about this half marathon. I'd done one gentle session during the week, with no severe problems. It was a League race, so it was likely that lots of runners would arrive. Laurens and I both decided to aim for a five points (2:13:45 in our age group). Five would be relatively easy; six would be very tough, at 2:03. He accordingly set his pacer at a slow 6:55/km. I collected him at 06:40, and we made our way to Pilditch Stadium. Passing Pretoria station, a pedestrian suddenly appeared from among the parked minibus taxis and crashed into the side of my car, damaging the side mirror. He collected himself and disappeared across the road, leaving onlookers gasping. And, of course, the hapless occupants of my car.

    We easily found parking, and found our way to the start bunch. As expected, the bunch was dense. We settled down about two-thirds through the bunch, and chatted to Peter and Sanette. The start was eight minutes late—most unfortunate, as many runners would still be on the road after 10:00. At least the weather was mild, making for pleasant running conditions. We looped eastwards towards the city before turning westwards, making our way towards West Park before turning back. I lost Laurens around the 3 km mark. By my calculation, I was more or less on schedule, yet he disappeared behind me. I eventually settled down into my own pace, taking it easy and walking most of the climbs. I was pleasantly surprised to meet Rhoda near the 5 km mark. I hadn't seen her in more than a year. We chatted briefly, and she confirmed that her son had just turned one.

    The 10 km finishers peeled off near the stadium, while we continued on a second lap. There were no caffeine-free drinks to be found. Fortunately, on the second lap they started handing out some bananas, potatoes and orange slices. I enjoyed a banana while exchanging banter with other runners. I was feeling very comfortable, and well ahead of the planned pace. By the 15 km mark, I estimated a 2:05 finish. We climbed the added loop to Cor Delfos station. In the loop, I saw Ken H about three minutes ahead of me. From this point, it was mostly a gentle downhill to the finish. I maintained a comfortable pace. Gradually, Ken came into view. I'm sure I sped up slightly, despite my resolve to take it easy. No mere mortal could resist the temptation. I caught Ken with about 2 km to go. He told me that he had given up on making a sub-two hour finish. That thought had never entered my mind, but I was very mindful of the 2:03 cutoff for six points. I kept up the pace, completing the last 3 km in under 16 minutes. I finished comfortably just over 2:02. Although I was worried that I'd overdone it, I was feeling good.

    At the Club tent, I heard a tale of woe. Ken N had missed the turnoff to the finish, running almost double the distance before finishing. Nevertheless, he had apparently still won his age category. Erika gave me the Club base with three of the tiles that I'd earned by running League races on behalf of the club. Although I still don't know whether I've erred by running faster than I'd planned, it looks like I got away with it. I'm writing this report on Monday, and there is not a trace of stiffness or muscle soreness just the usual nagging pain in my left knee. If I can survive 60 km this week, I may well be headed for Durban in June...

    The Good: Easy parking. Nice route. Adequate marshalling.

    The Bad: The late start. No green cold drinks.

    The Ugly: The pair of runners from Secunda Marathon Club that dumped 15 pieces of litter on the road in the little while that I saw them.

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    Modern Athlete Irene Ultra and Half Marathon, Sunday 2019-04-07 at 05:30

    Goal: 48 km in relaxed style, with no ill effects. A G group qualifier would be nice.

    After coming short at the Vaal Marathon, I went in search of solutions for cramping. It appears that I have enough endurance and enough speed, but my last few long races have come to a grinding halt because of cramps. I've tried most of the solutions before, without visible success. The most promising of these, CrampNot, was eliminated because of its caffeine content. I ended up with a variety of magnesium and calcium supplements, which I took for about two weeks before the race. I also resolved to resist the temptation to maintain the fantastic paces promised by my recent race resuls.

    I collected Laurens around 04:20. Despite the nifty detour through Highveld Park, we still ended up in bumper-to-bumper traffic. As always, a few bright sparks cruised up the right lane, causing a massive snarl-up at the entrance when two lanes had to re-merge into one. But judging by the German luxury cars and the big trucks in the right lane, their time must be far more valuable than ours. We parked inside the grounds, and were ready in the start bunch with about 10 minutes to go. Unfortunately, it was clear that a large fraction of entrants still had to make it into the grounds. The start was delayed—bad news, as most of us would finish near mid-day. We resolved to wait for about 10 minutes after the start gun, to avoid the worst traffic in the bunch. The Championchip mat-to-mat timing would ensure that we would not be penalised. We started just before the 10 minute window closed. By that time, only a thin stream of starters was still arriving.

    Laurens had his pacer set for 6:55/km, which would result in a 5:35 finish, just in time for a Comrades G qualifier. I was hoping for something similar, although I secretly thought I could do a little better. As we started, I quickly realised that the supplies loaded into my front pocket bounced far too much. I redistributed some of it to my trouser pockets, making things much more comfortable. The weather was nippy and overcast, perfect for running. Almost like last year, I did not have my trusty hat, as I could find it nowhere. I used a baseball cap instead—not quite the same, but better than nothing. Laurens started painfully slowly, lagging behind his pacer, and I soon found myself building up a lead. I could see him behind me up to the 5 km mark, but he never quite caught up. I eventually decided to maintain my own pace. I gradually gained on the planned 6:55 pace, building up a lead of about five minutes by the time we turned near the Fountains, at the 20 km mark. In the loop, I saw Thabo and Laurens about four minutes behind me. The long slog up the hill, back into Doringkloof, was just that—definitely a slog. Once back on even terrain, I gradually built up to seven minutes ahead, then deliberately kept it there. I did not want to exhaust myself, and I was definitely tempting fate already. I passed Suzette near the 28 km mark. My feeding strategy seemed to work well. I walked most of the uphills, sometimes using a 5+1 survival strategy. By the 30 km mark, I was definitely starting to feel the effects in my legs. My left knee started aching again, and my calf muscles were ever so slightly sore. Although I was wary about cramps, things never quite got to that point. Nevertheless, I was gradually slipping behind schedule. The seven minute advantage was slowly eroded. On the long climb up Olievenhoutbosch Road to John Vorster, I lost most of the remaining advantage. I would now have to maintain the planned pace to the finish. At the 40 km mark, I was feeling somewhat the worse for wear, but I was able to maintain my pace with a bit of determination. Kagiso handed me a very welcome sports drink.

    I reached the marathon mark at 4:52—just outside the Comrades qualifying time, but within reach of my target time at the finish. I continued to use a 5+1 survival strategy to the 44 km mark. At this point, I realised that I was going to miss the G cutoff by about a minute. I decided to stop torturing myself, aiming instead to finish comfortably and without harm. I was expecting Laurens to sail past, as I was now lagging behind our planned pace. I did some walking in the last 4 km, finishing in 4:39. I was four minutes late for my planned target, but 11 minutes inside the Comrades qualifying time. I was happy. I had finally managed to complete a long-distance race again without cramping.

    Laurens finished strongly about 10 minutes behind me. I was a little worried, as the announcer kept saying that there was a six-hour hard cutoff. Anyone who started late would therefore have correspondingly less time to finish! Laurens just barely made the cut. Although his net time was inside the Comrades qualifying limit, he came perilously close to the six-hour cutoff. Having rehydrated while I waited, I was fairly unscathed. Laurens thought that my woes in the last few km were attributable to my gains in the first half. There is no way to say for sure, but I thought I was well inside the limits predicted by recent race times.

    I walked back to collect the car. The traffic was again snarled up, and we escaped through an alternative exit. Interestingly, as I wrote this piece 24 hours after the finish, I started to get stiff. Fortunately, it was only temporary. By Tuesday I was pretty much back to normal. Nevertheless, I chickened out of the weekly time trial, opting for some cycling instead. Nevertheless, I'm happy. I finished inside the Comrades qualifying time, and if I'd been prepared to run to destruction, I could probably have reached the G cutoff. Right now, it's more important that I'm relatively untouched, and I'm hoping to resume the heavy training schedule again within a week. I'm not even sunburnt!

    The Good: Good marshalling. Enough parking. Enough green cold drinks (mostly).

    The Bad: The late start. Again! No green cold drinks at the first four water points. The hard cutoff, penalising those who started late.

    The Ugly: Race numbers 561 and 1806 inflicting their questionable musical tastes on the rest of us.

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    Budget Kolonnade 15 and 32 km, Saturday 2019-03-30 at 06:00

    Goal: 15 km in 1:26:30 for 6 League points.

    With the Irene 48 km race scheduled for next weekend, I'm tapering gradually. The 32 km race would be too much, so I elected to try for six League points for my club. I wasn't completely confident that I could achieve it, as I'd have to tuck in well under 6:00/km. However, it was worth a try. Much would depend on the route. The last time I did this race, it was a 10 km and half marathon race, implying a new route. The previous route included some nasty climbs, and I feared that this time it might include similarly nasty bits.

    Laurens collected me and Sizwe around 05:00. We easily found parking on the northwest side, and Sizwe and I completed the entry process within minutes. He was aiming for 59 minutes, something that I could only marvel at. We went looking for our respective club tents to agree on a post-race meeting place. Laurens and I settled in near the middle of the bunch. There was a speaker near us, blaring inane announcements at ear-splitting level. Sizwe went further forward. I noticed Pieter O near me, and pushed through the bunch to get to him. He was planning to do 32 km, but at a similar pace to mine. I lost sight of Laurens, so decided to stick with Pieter instead. The start was 10 minutes late. Once it finally happened, we started smoothly, given the large League race bunch. We passed the 1 km mark only 30 s off the pace. The next few kilometres passed at a fairly consistent 5:30/km. Pieter and I were catching up on gliding tales. Around the 4 km mark, Pieter decided to slow down a bit. He was trying to maintain a heart rate of 147/minute, and our pace on the uphills was a bit too fast. I kept up the pace, and soon settled into a comfortable rhythm. Fitting a 15 km race into a small neighbourhood like Montana Park takes some doing, and we must have traversed every street. There were some nasty hills, which I walked shamelessly, but none of them were of excessive duration. With about 3 km to go, we joined the 5 km tail-enders. The roads were wide enough, though, and we were not obstructed. I managed to cruise the last 2 km or so at 5:00/km, feeling fairly strong at the finish. Apart from the normal pain in my left knee, I felt completely unscathed. I finished in 1:24, more than two minutes inside my target time.

    I spent a few minutes at my Club tent. Laurens arrived soon after, also having run much faster than planned. He was buoyant, after several less satisfactory races in the past weeks. Sizwe had finished at 0:58, a minute faster than planned. We dropped off Sizwe and then found our normal breakfast buffet place. It was a very satisfactory outing. We'll see next week whether the boisterousness is going to cost us.

    The Good: Good marshalling. Enough parking. Enough green cold drinks.

    The Bad: The late start.

    The Ugly: The loud announcements at the start.

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    The Green Mileage 4, 8 and 16 miler, Saturday 2019-03-23 at 06:00

    Goal: Cover 16 miles (25,75 km) at 6:00/km and live to tell the tale

    I'm not sure why someone would want to hold a race in miles. We've been off that wicket for well over half a century. Still, I suppose it gives me the chance to hone my mental arithmetic and to get a guaranteed Personal Best for 25,75 km. I collected Laurens at 06:15. We found parking rather easily, not far away. It was still pitch dark. Unfortunately, finding the gate to the Lyttelton Sportpark was more easily said than done. Load shedding was in force, with no street lights burning. A generator was running at the entry building, and attendants were on hand with hand-held torches. The timing was done by BoutTime again, and the entry form asked the usual invasive questions. I bought a number, and we were ready for the start with time to spare. There was a distinct nip in the air. I chatted to Ken N and Josias in the start bunch, but Laurens had disappeared. The relatively small bunch started moving almost immediately, but it took more than ten minutes before we were running freely. Although it was light by now, the overcast obscured the sun and I had no sense of direction at all. We ran through Lyttelton Manor. The distance markers were really far apart, and I tried to make up time on 10:00/mile. By 4 miles, I'd made up about two minutes. By this time, I needed a toilet. There was one at the water point. As I stopped and touched the door, it opened and the previous occupant left. I had to fight back the gag reflex, but felt a great sense of relief. I left at 40:00. I soon ran into Neville. Soon after, I found Iain, who immediately started gossiping about me to his companion. The hilly terrain required some walking, but I maintained a fairly even pace.

    The marshals were dressed in fancy dress. I saw several cowboys, a ballerina, a leprechaun, some flowers, a scuba diver and a snow skier. I suppose if my glycogen level was higher, it would have been amusing.

    We soon found our way back to the start venue. We crossed the pedestrian bridge from the train station. The 8 milers peeled off to the left, while the rest of us continued on the original start track. I was a little surprised that there were no second-lap distance markers on the first lap, but assumed that we would simply traverse the same route again. I was mistaken. This time, we turned towards Waterkloof Air Force Base, then left towards the Officers' Mess. We again used a pedestrian bridge to cross the M10, then passed the mess itself. At the half marathon mark, my time was just under 2:07, almost exactly 6:00/km. The mess still looked like when I lived there, except more tatty and with an incredible number of satellite dishes on the roof. The military presence must have affected the course marker, because we suddenly started turning left, right, left, right in Kloofsig, traversing literally every street in the small neighbourhood. We passed the Solidariteit offices, then climbed a gentle uphill to the finish. By this time, I had to resort to a 4+1 walking strategy to survive. I covered the last mile in well under 10 minutes, finishing just 5 s outside my target of 2:34:30.

    I'm happy that I was able to maintain 6:00/km for this distance. I'm happy with my personal best for this weird distance. I'm not so happy about the idea of running 48 km, almost twice as far, over similar terrain in two weeks. But then, there is only one way to find out.

    The Good: Through nice leafy suburbs. Good marshalling. Enough caffeine-free drinks.

    The Bad: Bouttime's results. They are inaccurate beyond belief.

    The Ugly: The mental arithmetic around weird units. What's next—fathoms?

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    Right To Run 10 km and Half Marathon, Thurday 2019-03-21 at 07:00

    Goal: 10 km in under an hour, and remain fresh for the rest of the day

    Like two years ago, this race took place on Human Rights Day. I would have liked to do the half marathon, but I had to be on the road by 09:00 for an important commitment in Potch. I was up just before 06:00, arriving with enough time to buy an entry and get to the start line. Laurens appeared in the shopping centre, and I joined the middle of the start bunch with him and Alet. The races and the fun walk all started together, but the bunch flowed reasonably well from the start. I chatted briefly to Francois, then settled down into a smooth rhythm going uphill through leafy Sunnyside East and Arcadia. We soon passed the University campus, then turned right near Magnolia Dell. I passed the halfway mark at just under 0:30, predicting an easy sub-1:00 finish. At the 7 km mark, we intercepted the 5 km route. From this point it was all downhill, so I just kept up the pressure and sailed home in something like 58:30. I was feeling reasonably fresh, with only a slight niggle in my left knee.

    Alet had done the 5 km fun run, and was waiting at the finish. She reported not finding green cold drinks at any of the water points. I hadn't tried—at least a one-hour race doesn't require much refreshment. I was back in the car and on the way home just after 08:00. Mission accomplished!

    The Good: Sane start time. Nice route—reasonably flat and through nice leafy suburbs. Good marshalling. Enough parking.

    The Bad: No caffeine-free drinks.

    The Ugly: Having to sit in cars and gliders for over nine hours during the rest of the day. Those muscles do get a bit sore eventually!

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    Om die Dorp 10 km and Half Marathon, Saturday 2019-03-16 at 06:00

    Goal: Run as far as possible at 6:00/km or faster and arrive at the meeting at 08:00

    Due to another commitment at 08:00, I could not run the half marathon. I got up at 04:30 and made my way to the venue. Traffic was snarled up as I entered Pierre van Ryneveld, and the last km took at least 10 minutes. I found parking about 500 m away and started running to the entry point. I entered, and was back on the road within five minutes. Josias joined me for a while. He was planning on doing the half marathon. I managed to work in about 5 km before the start. In the start bunch, I chatted to Ken N. The start was punctual, and we were soon cruising freely. I was almost exactly on time at the 1 and 2 km marks. Iain was just ahead of me, and we exchanged some banter. A nubile young woman ran past. Iain introduced her as his niece. Am I the only one from a small family, or am I still too young to look innocent enough? We soon caught up with Neville, who immediately faced an astronomy question from Iain. I was cruising fairly comfortably, and gradually making up time. I passed the halfway mark at 29:00. The water points did not have caffeine-free drinks. Iain and I were comparing notes about bad war movies. At the split, Iain continued on the half marathon while I continued on the shorter route. I gradually started winding up my pace. Just after the 7 km mark, we were joined by the 5 km tail-enders. The terrain was flat, and I gradually gained on my planned time. The last 3 km flashed by in 16 minutes, and I finished around 55:15.

    After collecting my medal, I walked back to my car along the race route. I saw several familiar faces coming the other way. A pleasant surprise was Liebeth, whom I wasn't expecting to see at a race. I was soon driving along. I managed to avoid most of the race route, and made my way to my destination with plenty of time to spare. Mission accomplished—except that I am woefully short of my distance target for the week. I suppose I'll have to make time for another long run this weekend; something that I would have preferred to avoid.

    The Good: Nice flat route in a quiet neighbourhood.

    The Bad: No caffeine-free drinks.

    The Ugly: The weekend's running ain't done yet.

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    Buco Bobbies 10 km and Half Marathon, Saturday 2019-03-09 at 06:00

    Goal: Cruise through the half marathon as painlessly as possible

    This race has been relocated from Wonderboom to Hatfield. Add the start time that's half an hour later, and to my mind we have a much-improved race. In addition, that nasty ridge that we had to traverse previously would not be there. Laurens had pre-entered me, but somehow the race number disappeared during the past week. I woke up at 05:00, found my way to the start and bought an entry. Within minutes, I was ready to start. Laurens and I met coincidentally at the back of the bunch. I was hoping for a 6:00/km pace. He was planning a more sedate 6:30/km. I was uncertain of my strategy, in the light of last weekend's marathon. At the start, I heard rumours of a Tom Jenkins routing. That name strikes fear into the heart of any Pretoria runner. This time, we would be descending down the dreaded route, but it still meant that we had to cross the famous Meintjieskop, on which the Union Buildings perch. We set off slowly, allowing the thick bunch to restrain us. We passed the start line in about 1:45. We passed my mom's childhood home before turning right up Eastwood to tackle the constant climb. I passed the Venters and exchanged some banter. Karen was managing one of the intersections, and I heckled her. The climb was no joke, though. I again noticed that I was no longer slower than the bunch on the descent. All that practice really did bear fruit.

    Down in the valley, I was just over four minutes behind my pace. I managed to hold this deficit almost exactly constant from the 3 km marker all the way up to the 12 km mark, so I was actually maintaining my hoped-for 6:00/km pace. I was pleased. Apart from the usual dull pain in my left knee, I was fairly comfortable. From about 6 to 9 km, Corline was playing hare and tortoise, clearly busy with interval training. I encountered Ken N on the climb back into Colbyn. He was walking, but soon resumed his run and bolted past. A meander through the leafy streets of Hatfield East took us past the LC de Villiers sports grounds. Half a dozen youngsters with backpacks and tracksuits emerged from the gate, effortlessly bolting past us. On the second lap, I soon encountered Neville, who was mixing a magic potion at one of the waterpoints. He was wearing a rather pained expression. I took advantage of the shelter offered by the fence at my mom's childhood home to leave behind some excess liquid. Canine instincts? We again crossed Meintjieskop, then turned sharp left into Russell Street for the second-lap 1,1 km blind loop. I noticed Marius and Leticia ahead of me, with Laurens behind me. Hendrik was chatting up a female official. I encouraged him to start running again. He did, effortlessly cruising past. I commented how impressed I was that he was constantly chatting up females while supposedly doing a strenuous half marathon. His defence was that they were his nieces. Large family? At this point, he was running with yet another niece. I shared some arias from Mozart's Don Giovanni with them. Although Hendrik may not have reached 2065 like the Don did, he was certainly well on his way. And that's just the ones I know of. In races. His niece liked my singing.

    On the second climb up Meintjieskop, I'd lost another minute, and was now constantly five minutes behind my pace. On the way back up to Queenswood, I was pursuing a bunch of Affies. I alternated between walking and running. I passed Leticia on the climb. She looked fresh, as she does, but was walking at times. The Affie bunch gradually left me behind, but I still had them in sight at the finish line. I finished comfortably, still five minutes behind my planned schedule and not too tired. I was happy. Discounting the few minutes lost in the start bunch and the first km or two, I'd maintained my hoped-for pace within a minute per lap. Given last week's marathon, I was happy. I stopped at the Club tent. Hennie and Marix were there, along with Josias. A speaker right next to the tent blared loud music. Marius arrived, followed by Leticia. We chatted for a few minutes before Laurens joined us. He'd been a bit slower than planned, but was also happy to have survived intact. We snuck off to breakfast at Wimpy's. The service was slow, and as we waited, Hendrik arrived, accompanied by a young blonde. I walked up to their table, and he introduced me to his niece.

    I was very disappointed with the disaster in last weekend's marathon. Against that background, I'm pretty happy that I was able to maintain a descent pace this week. The pain was no worse than usual, and the cramped calves have apparently recovered fully (with a little help from a Tuesday session with my biokineticist Deirdre). We're now fully in the swing of things with a target distance of 54 km per week, and the Irene Ultra coming up in four weeks. Only time will tell whether I can get to the point where I can do a marathon comfortably again.

    The Good: Being fully recovered less than a week after a disastrous marathon. Good marshalling. Lots of green cool drinks.

    The Bad: Losing my pre-paid entry.

    The Ugly: Meintjieskop.

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    Cape Gate Vaal Marathon, Half Marathon and 10 km, Sunday 2019-03-03 at 06:00

    Goal: 42,2 km at 6:30/km (or at the very least to finish below 4:50)

    When I last did this race in 2017, my goal was far more ambitious. My wheels came off terribly, and I just barely managed to meet the Comrades qualification criteria—more than half an hour later than planned.

    This time, I was less fit. I had been prevented from doing as much training as I'd wanted by that pesky calf muscle injury in December. I did not complete a full sixteen-week training programme like I did last time. In all respects, it looked like I was in trouble. Nevertheless, based on my recent experience in half marathon races and the Bronkhorstspruit 32, the tables forecast a spectacular finish around 4:15. I was more cautious, electing to aim for a much slower target. I have learned a lot about race nutrition since last time, and was hopeful that I would not fall apart as spectacularly again.

    I drove this time. I collected Laurens and Alet, and we left the city at 04:00. The traffic gradually got denser. Nevertheless, we kept moving well until no more than 1 km from the stadium. We had plenty of time, and managed to park just outside the stadium around 05:25. I queued for a while to collect my race number, while Alet entered for the 5 km fun run and Laurens looked bemused. Laurens was aiming to run even more slowly than I was. The start gun went about a minute early. We were waiting in the start bunch, but did not leave immediately. The mat-to-mat timing afforded us the luxury of leaving after the worst crowding was over. By 06:05, the bunch had thinned enough, and we set off down the road. It was a pleasant change to be able to run comfortably from the first minute.

    Laurens and I soon separated. I chatted to Elbert about post-race arrangements, then settled down into a comfortable jog. The route is fairly flat, and I managed to remain within seconds of my target pace for more than 10 km. The first serious hill popped up around the 13 km mark. I walked up the hill, remaining within seconds of the target pace. We passed the 21 km mark just after the stadium. The field was now much thinner, with all the half marathon runners out of contention. Alet handed me my sports drink, a precaution I'd arranged due to the total lack of caffeine-free drinks at the previous race. This time, it was completely different. Water points were separated by much less than the required 3 km, and all water points had sachets with orange-coloured drinks and even the occasional cream soda. Even on the second lap, most water points had snacks available—jelly sweets and biscuits and bananas.

    Wanja and Mandy ran ahead of me for some time, both in their new club colours. They enquired about our pace, and my report that we were exactly on track for a 4:30 finish seemed to please them. They gradually slid out of sight up ahead. The distance markers started diverging from my GPS on the second lap. On the first lap, there was never more than 150 m of difference. Gradually, the markers stretched until eventually they were almost 400 m late. I didn't relish the extra 400 m of running! Mostly, my GPS pace was a few seconds fast, with the markers sliding by up to two minutes late. I could afford to lose a couple of minutes, so I was happy. Around the 30 km mark, things started changing. I started developing cramps high up in both my calves. I looked for my salt tablets, but found none. I looked again. They were definitely not there. I asked at each water point. The second one was able to help me with a few small packets of household salt. I consumed a couple of them, reducing my mucous membranes to a burning mess. I had some water, but not enough to extinguish the fire. I decided to walk for 1 km to allow the salt to work its magic. Around the 32 km mark, I was able to resume a 4+1 survival strategy. I'd lost some time, but I was still within striking distance of a sub-4:50 finish. This figure was meaningful, as it is the new Comrades qualifying time—ten minutes faster than when I last qualified. Unfortunately, it didn't last. While the cramps had subsided, the muscles were excruciatingly painful where the cramps had been. I realised that I was doing real damage to my calves. The prudent thing was to start walking. My last attempt to run was around the 36 km mark, near Gary's house. I spent a good minute gawking at his antennas, noticing that his HF antennas were somewhat the worse for wear. After this point, I simply walked all the way to the finish. The parallels with my last attempt were painfully obvious. Very painfully.

    Initially, I was able to maintain a fairly brisk walk, at around 9:30/km. As time passed, the briskness diminished. The pace gradually slid to 10:00/km, then 10:30, then 11:00. Accordingly, the anticipated finish time gradually slid from 04:50 to 05:20. This was not going to be an ego trip. However, I maintained my resolve to walk, not wishing to inflict lasting damage to my beleaguered calves. The temperature was rising into the thirties, and the cloudless sky allowed the sun to beat down mercilessly. My GPS quit just after five hours; it obviously doesn't cater for back-enders like me. At the entrance to the stadium, Laurens was waiting for me. I hadn't seen him pass me, although I was expecting to. He admitted that he'd chickened after the first lap, finishing the half marathon with a comparatively slow time. Alet was also there, walking the last few hundred metres to the finish with me. There were no caffeine-free drinks at the finish. I sat on the grass feeling sorry for myself and drank my post-race recovery drink. I then painfully hobbled back to the car, grateful that we had managed to park relatively close. When I got to the car, the thermometer showed 32°C.

    We were able to escape the stadium area relatively quickly, and soon found ourselves sailing home on the freeway. Many factors had been a lot more favourable than on my previous attempt. There were caffeine-free drinks aplenty. There was enough food to eat, both on my person and at the water stations. I was able to ingest enough sugar and enough water on an ongoing basis. I was well rested, having tapered according to plan for the last three weeks. There were also a few factors that were worse. I got no sleep at all on Friday night, after unexpectedly being called out to fly. I had had a bout of stomach blues a week or two before that left me rather weak. The December calf injury had left me slightly under-prepared. Nevertheless, I did not anticipate the extent to which my wheels would come off. And it was again due to cramps. I hadn't had any trouble with cramps in the past two years, but I suppose I hadn't tried any long distances in that time. I'd dutifully taken my tablets before the race, but perhaps not over a long enough period. I'll really have to try and find a solution to this cramping problem.

    With a possible long trip in the next few months, it is unlikely that I'll have another chance to qualify for Comrades. If the trip happens, at least it will take a lot of pressure off me. Perhaps it's time to concentrate on shorter distances again. A sub-48 10 km sounds like an attractive idea...

    The Good: Good water points. Occasional food. Everything according to plan up to 30 km.

    The Bad: Having my wheels come off in the last quarter, just like last time. Only worse.

    The Ugly: Those cramps. I'm clearly not a long-distance runner.

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    Deloitte Marathon, Half Marathon and 10 km, Sunday 2019-02-24 at 06:00

    Goal: 16 km at 6:15/km

    Laurens and I entered the 10 km race, as we did not want to exhaust ourselves. We are tapering for next weekend's marathon, after all. We decided to meet some distance from the start venue and to do 6 km of running before the race. We would arrive just as the start gun went, then run the 10 km race. The marathon and half marathon would start at 06:00, followed by the 10 km at 06:15. We agreed to meet at a small shopping centre not far from Phobians at 05:30. Unfortunately, nothing worked as planned. I soon realised that the roads around Phobians were hopelessly snarled up with traffic. I took some back roads to place me on King's Highway. Even there, we were crawling bumper to bumper. I spoke to Laurens, and it sounded to me like he was going to be even later than I was. We eventually met much later than planned, and only hit the road around 05:45. We would get nowhere near the planned 6 km distance before the start. I was still a little lazy after yesterday's Parkrun, and struggled to maintain the pace. Laurens was even more lethargic, lagging behind me by some distance. We heard the start gun at exactly 06:00. I intercepted the route about 800 m downstream. Even at 06:08, there was still a constant stream of runners tackling the route. Presumably, most of them had likewise found difficulty with the traffic.

    I joined the start bunch at exactly 06:15, having run only 4,5 km rather than the planned six. I was disappointed to learn that the start was being delayed, as they were waiting for the last half marathon and marathon runners to pass a certain point. The intention was to avoid the two fields overlapping, so that the leading 10 km runners would not get snarled up in the back markers of the main race. We eventually started seven minutes late. If I'd known, I could have completed my 6 km!

    The start was dense. I decided to aim for a 6:00/km pace to make up for the slow and shortened first session, and for the enforced wait. At the 1 km mark, I was 1:30 behind schedule. The bunch was flowing, but somewhat too dense to run freely. I kept my head on a swivel, looking for Lize who also had to be somewhere in the bunch. We were gradually climbing, and I did not make any progress in whittling down the deficit until we'd passed the 4 km mark. There, we started the descent from Waterkloof into Brooklyn. A slightly rotund female runner came shooting past in her blue-striped vest. I took the opportunity to up my pace, using my best downhill technique to keep up. From this point, I managed to maintain 5:40 splits fairly consistently. By 8 km, I was slightly ahead of pace. The last km was a descent, followed by a level section on the track. Ms Blue Stripes passed me again on the downhill. I gave chase, and managed to beat her home by a few seconds. I was pleasantly surprised to beat 0:58 by a few seconds.

    Laurens had planned to be well behind me, so I settled down at the club tent. Hennie had again managed to secure a prime spot at the finish. I sat there alone and watched the first few dozen half marathon finishers, including some well-known names. I cheered Laurens and Lize home, then went to meet them at the medal tables. I walked back to my car, observing a bunch of my peers finishing the half marathon. I noticed race numbers of almost 4000 for the 10 km race, and over 3000 for the half marathon. These numbers suggest a field of over 10 000 for the three races! I was fairly happy to feel almost no ill effects. The short distance did not even cause the customary left knee pain to increase. I felt hopeful that the taper is actually working, and that I'll arrive at the marathon start next weekend strong and well rested. There is only one way to find out!

    The Good: Nice route. Good distance markers. Good traffic management. Caffeine-free drinks, although of an ilk that's not too inspiring.

    The Bad: The late start on the 10 km race. Could they not hold back all the late starters in the longer race to wait a few minutes for the next bunch?

    The Ugly: That traffic.

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    Valhalla Parkrun, Saturday 2019-02-23 at 08:00

    Goal: Survive the parkrun intact for tomorrow's 16 km run

    I collected Laurens from his home. We arrived about a quarter of an hour early, and jogged about 2 km to warm up. The announcements at the start took forever, and most people were talking, so that no-one actually heard the announcements. The start was quick, with a bunch of little kids leading the way. I could not count my ranking, with far more than a dozen runners ahead. From experience I knew that I had to restrain myself. The first km went by in exactly 5:00—slightly too fast. The track was relatively narrow, with several runners just in front of me. Tall wet grass brushed against our legs. A "mature"runner in a green 250 shirt and I jostled for position. I could see a dozen runners ahead, so I assumed we were in thirteenth place.

    The next 2 km went by in 5:15 and 5:10. Undulating terrain and a weaving track made for tough going. I had to occasionally resort to walking to keep my breathing under control. I was mindful of tomorrow's long run, and did not want to expend all my ammunition today! The distance markers were all clearly visible and correllated closely to my GPS distance. Just after the 4 km mark, two young guys caught up with me. We left Mr Green behind and pushed to the finish. We crossed a small bridge to finish in the shade of a tall tree. Although I thought I was near number 13, I was given number 18. Clearly, the leaders had been so far ahead that I could not even see them!

    I was pretty happy. The results show three fifty-plus runners (including a woman and one sixty-plus) ahead of me. If I don't have any long-term effects, I'll be very happy. Tomorrow will tell. Laurens arrived a few minutes later. He collected some pancakes, and we set off for home. There really is something to be said for this Parkrun thing.

    The Good: Nice route in green surroundings. Good distance markers.No traffic.

    The Bad: Not much.

    The Ugly: The first woman in my age group, way ahead in the rankings...

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    Bronkhorstspruit 32 km and 10 km, Saturday 2019-02-09 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive 32 km unscathed. Aim for 6:30/km (total 3:28)

    When I last did this race in 2017, my goal was 5:41/km. This time, survival was the only goal. I wanted to complete 32 km and live to tell the tale. I figured that 6:30/km would be about right, given my recent half marathon performances. I did a 12 km session on Monday and a more modest 7 km session on Wednesday, but was still slightly stiff and sore when I got up at 04:30. Laurens collected me, and we arrived with about 15 minutes to spare. His goals were even more modest than mine, as he's still recovering from illness over December. After scripture reading and prayer, we started about a minute late. The bunch flowed immediately, and I crossed the start line in about half a minute. At the 1 km mark, I was about a minute late. We meandered through town, then crossed the bridge and started the relentless climb. I had to remind myself to take it easy. I didn't see the 2, 3, 4 and 5 km markers, but Gustav assured me that he had seen them all. Gustav was walking, and was planning to finish in 3:30. As I knew that his pace would be very consistent, I decided to use him as a marker. It proved to be a wise decision, as my natural pace was way too fast.

    On the back straight, crossing the N4, I settled into a rhythm of running for a km or so, then walking until Gustav caught up with me. Koos van der Walt, Leticia and the Twins with Walter were regularly trading places with me. I was consistently about two minutes ahead of my target pace. I passed the 10 km mark at 1:03, 20 km at 2:08 and the half marathon mark at 2:13. I hoped I wasn't overdoing things, as most of my recent half marathons were in very much the same ballpark. I was mindful of the fact that more than 10 km, including a serious climb, lay ahead at this point. Around the 22 km mark, the serious climb started. I had to walk more than I had been doing, and my lead shrunk to zero around the 27 km mark. At this time, I was having trouble keeping up with Gustav. Marius came from behind with a disciple. I stayed around them for a while, until Marius left me behind near the 29 km mark. I managed to adhere to my eating strategy. There were green cold drinks at every water point, and I had gels at one-hour intervals. After the two-hour mark, I also had some fruitcake. At least my concentration did not falter, so it seems like my nutrition strategy is working. Amazingly, apart from the usual left knee and right hamstring issues, my right arm cramped up slightly from the regular swinging. That's a new one! I suppose I shouldn't be surprised; continuously swinging your arm to and fro for over three hours must put some strain on it.

    Passing through the Buddhist compound, I could see Gustav up ahead, but could not catch him. I tried to maintain a 4+1 survival strategy, but it sometimes degenerated into 4+2 or even 3+2. I arrived at the 31 km mark, with 1 km to go, at exactly 3:24. If I wanted to break 3:30, I would have to cover the last km in under six minutes. My legs were desperately tired, but I continued my run-walk strategy right up to the end to finish a few seconds inside 3:30. Two athletes overtook me in the lane, after the finish line. I spoke to them, and they responded very aggressively. I let them go; I hope the change of finish order doesn't cost me an official sub-3:30 finish!

    Leticia was in the club tent, looking well rested. To my amazement, the Twins finished separately. Elaine cruised in with Walter a few minutes behind me, with Estelle well behind them. Laurens reported almost exactly the same situation as mine. He had 1 km to go at exactly 3:54, and also had exactly six minutes left to tuck in under four hours. He likewise made it with seconds to spare.

    I survived my first 32 km in two years, less than two minutes behind my planned pace. Fine. Somehow, the thought of tacking another 10 km onto the back of this race doesn't appeal to me. Let's hope that a slightly fresher start due to a bit of pre-race tapering and a flatter route will help to make up the difference. Just three weeks to go...

    The Good: Good marshalling, interesting route. Green cold drinks at all water points that I tried.

    The Bad: Those two climbs. Again.

    The Ugly: The two thugs at the finish line.

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    Intercare Classic Half Marathon, Saturday 2019-02-02 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive the half marathon. 6:00/km is clearly a myth.

    I last ran this race in 2017. Then I was aiming for a pace of 5:41/km. This time, I had no specific pace in mind. I wanted to survive unscathed to be as ready as possible for next weekend's 32 km race. The past week has been rough, with lots of physical labour and little running. At least the night before was much calmer than the previous time. I was in bed just after 22:00, and woke up before the alarm clock went at 04:30. I collected Laurens at 05:20. We found parking about a block away. Laurens had to buy a temporary licence, but we still comfortably got to the start in time. At exactly 06:00, we heard the start horn. The 10 km runners would start 20 minutes behind us, but the half marathon bunch was still big enough to cause a slow start. I was about halfway down the bunch, and we took over 40 seconds to get to the start line.

    Unlike last week, I wasn't able to find a comfortable rhythm. The uphill towards the Union Buildings didn't help. By 2 km, I was about two minutes behind a 6:00/km pace. Just before running past the presidential residence, a blue light brigade passed us in the opposite direction. I didn't even know fat cats got up this early. Like last time, none of the water points had any caffeine-free drinks. I sailed past Erika on the gradual uphill. I thought it was too good to be true, and it was. Her companion explained that Erika was accompanying her, and she was much slower than I was. Just after the 6 km mark, the leading 10 km runners came screaming past. It wasn't exactly an ego trip to be overtaken after 38 minutes by guys who've only been running for 18!

    As we descended into Queenswood, a Phobians runner with a boom box loudly spouting thumping music came crawling past. His backpack covered his licence, and while I could not read the number, it was clearly expired. He directed a sexist remark at a female traffic official. Clearly, this dude has an attitude problem. I asked him to turn down his music. As I half-expected, nothing but abuse resulted. The irony was that he was running with two members of the SAPS running club. I passed the toilet in Queenswood with much gratitude, thinking back to the events of the previous year.

    The section in the Moot is relatively flat. I passed Sandra around 12 km. I had my emergency gel at this point. After the next water point I had to pass Sandra again. I was gratified to find that I was slowly undoing the time deficit. I was careful to restrain myself, as I knew that over-exuberance today would cost me dearly next Saturday. I managed to run almost continuously, with the odd spell of walking. I walked all the way up the railway bridge, then enjoyed a relatively flat section of about 1 km before the climb to the finish started. On the climb, I passed two guys carrying a wooden cross with a Biblical inscription. I was grateful that I didn't have to carry anything up that hill. Like last time, I was surprised at how quickly the last km passed. There probably is something wrong with the distance markers. I didn't complain, though. I finished relatively strongly in about 2:07:30. Subtracting the start delay, I had actually maintained a 6:00/km pace. It was a pleasant surprise.

    They were handing out free mageu again, so I managed to replenish my glycogen in a pleasant way despite the complete lack of green drinks. I took the time to visit the Phobians tent. I found the obnoxious boom box owner there, and managed to read his expired licence number. A pointed discussion with a referee left me hopeful that Boomer would perhaps be more considerate in future.

    The next week will be relatively easy, as I want to rest for next Saturday's proceedings. I guess by this time next week I'll know if there is any possibility of making it to Durban in June.

    The Good: Good marshalling by experienced runners, including many familiar faces.

    The Bad: No cooldrinks except Coke. Again.

    The Ugly: AGN11983 from Phobians with his boom box and his sexist remarks.

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    Wonderpark/Akasia 10 km, half marathon and marathon, Saturday 2019-01-26 at 05:30 and 06:00

    Goal: 21,1 km at 6:00/km (is it too much to ask?).

    It's been a heavy few weeks. With 24 km already on the clock this week, I faced the half marathon with some trepidation. Apart from general stiffness and malaise, I also had some strain in my left knee. Nevertheless, there was no option: I had to try the half marathon and go down fighting if I proved wanting. With the hotter weather north of the Magalies, the 05:30 start aims to spare the marathon runners the worst heat of the day. I dragged myself out of bed around 03:50 to meet Laurens at his house just after 04:30. We collected Jonathan. The traffic wasn't too bad, and We found parking not too far from the venue to be in place about ten minutes before the start.

    The announcer counted down to the 05:30 start. The horn sounded exactly on time, to the second. The bunch was dense, despite the fact that the 10 km runners would only start later. I crossed the start line almost two minutes late, and it was a full ten minutes before I could run at my own pace. After 1 km, I was already four minutes behind schedule. The flat terrain caused no serious difficulties, and I found myself thinking that this race is normally completely uneventful. Looking back at last year's race reinforces that impression. Jon and I ran together to about 6 km. Around the 7 km mark, Laurens ran next to me for a while. I passed Hennie and Marix in the bunch. Willie greeted me in his new club colours.

    I passed the 10 km mark in 1:05, five minutes behind schedule. Nevertheless, I was pleased. I managed to run for about 14 km before taking a walk break. It's been a while since I've been able to maintain a run for that long. In the second half, we gradually regained some altitude we'd lost in the first half. I knew that there would be a sting in the tail, with a steep but short climb to the 20 km mark on the R80 bridge, and a continued climb for the last km to the finish. The 10 km tail-enders joined our route around the 17 km mark. The distance markers seemed exactly right, with three markers spaced almost 100 m apart every km. I passed Erika—a welcome change! I ran with Koos van der Walt for a while before leaving him behind. The nasty bump to the bridge came and went, and I finished fairly strongly with an uphill 5:40 last km to the finish. The time was just under 2:12, the fastest for the year but a far cry from my previous times.

    There were few members at the Club tent. I noticed that everyone had Mageu, and went to queue for my own free sample. Getting to the counter and back again required some jostling. The pineapple flavour definitely won't be my first choice next time, but I had the opportunity to top up my glycogen stores while waiting for my travel companions. I noticed that I'd lost two magnets off my race number. I could only assume it must have happened at the mageu counter. Sure enough, I found my two magnets on the ground, trampled underfoot by thousands but mostly unscathed.

    So far so good. Three weeks into the year, I'm pretty much on track with three half marathons under my belt. The times are slow, so there is work to be done, but the basic endurance is definitely building. I'm still not entirely comfortable with the idea of a 32 km race in two weeks, but there is definitely hope.

    The Good: Excellent organisation. The flattest course in the Pretoria area. Enough green cold drinks, except at one water point.

    The Bad: 21,1 km remains a long way.

    The Ugly: The littering by the runners from Fat Cats running club.

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    George Claassen Memorial Half Marathon, Saturday 2019-01-19 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive the half marathon. Earn some points for the club. 6:00/km pace would be nice.

    I last ran this race two years ago. That time, the route consisted of a figure eight. The first 10 km was very hilly, just northeast of the Pick n Pay Hypermarket. The last 11,1 km was on flatter terrain to the west, towards Menlyn and back. What I find a little perturbing is that my goal that time was to run 25 km at 5:40/km pace. This time, I would be lucky to survive 21,1 km at 6:00/km. Thursday night's thunderstorm thwarted my plans to run, leaving this week severely wanting in the training distance department.

    League races always draw the crowds. I was told that 5000 people gathered at the start. I believe it. I met Karen, who was waiting to hand over her half marathon entry to Tebogo. She was going to opt for the 5 km fun run this time due to an injury. I spent a few minutes chatting to Neville and Zelldra. Laurens was nowhere to be found. The gun went on time, but it took two minutes for me to cross the start line. As is their custom, all the slowest runners started right at the front. Navigating through this morass took its toll, and by the time I saw the 3 km marker, I was almost four minutes behind schedule. As before, it was a thrill to see an uninterrupted ribbon of runners filling the street ahead and behind, as far as the eye could see. The bunch gradually thinned out, and by 5 km I was running freely. As we hit the serious hills, I was already seven minutes behind my pace. In fact, our average pace was not much faster than 7:00/km! I occasionally chatted to Neville, and I saw Juline and Wanja more than once. I chatted to Alex a few times; she was also alternating between walking and running to survive those hills. There was also a young Tuks runner with two plaits that didn't quite match. I silently dubbed her Pocahontas. On a steep downhill interlude, a rotund young runner with a temporary licence careened downhill, weaving wildly from side to side. He nearly caused another runner to fall in his wake. I wondered if he would maintain his mad pace on the next uphill. The answer was not long in coming. Before the next water point, he was visibly wobbly. This water point offered craft beer along with the usual water and cold drinks. I wondered about the ethics of handing out beer on a race. Is alcohol consumption allowed on ASA events? Would be fun if runners got disqualified for taking a beverage from a water point...

    We started descending from about 7 km. It would have been good news, except that I started seeing more and more distance markers for the second lap. Clearly, we were going to have to negotiate this torture yet again, without the reprieve of the Menlyn loop! At least the Twins were not there to torment me this time. Barely had the thought entered my mind, when I saw them up ahead. I overtook them just as the downhill started.

    We soon passed the start and commenced the second lap. At least the bunch was much thinner this time, and we could run freely. Unlike on the first lap, I was definitely being overtaken by many runners. Was I fading, or was it just that the 10 km runners were no longer with us? Koos van der Walt and co passed me gradually and disappeared up ahead. The extra loop was right on the hilltop. We passed Neville's house, where Neville and Sonja were chatting to Ken and Walter. They summoned me to join them, but I declined. I was already seeing visions of a time even worse than last week. A car was parked against a tree with the front end smashed to bits—presumably the product of the previous night's debauchery.

    I walked most of the serious hills. On one of them, Wanja in her new club's colours passed me at a furious pace. I expected her to collapse within metres. She joined Juline and co halfway up the hill, and I left them behind. I saw Norman by the roadside at the S4J water point, snapping away with his camera. Pocahontas was always just ahead, providing a strong incentive to keep going. Watching my pace slip further and further behind schedule wasn't exactly motivating! I resolved around the 18 km mark that I would at least try to beat 2:20. Not much of a target, but under the circumstances nothing more ambitious appeared to be achievable. I managed to stay within reach of that target, but often had to run when I would certainly have preferred to walk. My left knee and my right hamstring were definitely keeping me aware of their presence. I finished about 20 s inside my decidedly unambitious target and made my way to the Club tent. Marix handed out fruit kebabs and cool drinks. I spent a few minutes chatting to Leticia, then found the League points lookup table. This time, I managed to collect a measly four points out of a possible 10. Let's hope everyone else suffered too. Given the hills, it's not unlikely.

    After chatting to Francois and visiting the CSIR club tent, I made my way back to my car along the finish route. Most of these runners were just going to miss the three hour cutoff. About 200 m from the finish, one woman's legs turned to jelly. She collapsed in a heap. Several other runners and I helped her to her feet. She immediately started sprinting, and crashed to the ground. I begged her to slow down, and offered her a sports drink sachet. She declined, on both counts. Several runners tried to hold her down to contain her self-destructive tendencies. She wriggled loose, started sprinting and crashed onto her face again. I found my car and drove off, feeling very sorry for her, and for myself.

    The next few weeks will be tough. Apart from the half marathons every Saturday that Laurens so thoughtfully bullied me into, there is a 32 km race in three weeks, and a marathon in six. I'm not so sure that it's achievable, but I'll certainly give it a try. There truly is only one way to find out!

    The Good: Good organisation, marshalling and water points. A large field with a festive atmosphere.

    The Bad: A congested start. No green drinks at the finish.

    The Ugly: Those hills. Twice. Really?

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    Eersterus 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2019-01-12 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive. 6:00/km would be nice.

    I haven't done a half marathon since early October, and certainly not after hurting my calf muscle. I had an anxiety attack last week after looking at the calendar, though. There is precious little time to get ready for the mother of all hill climbs. Even before that, I have entered for a marathon in March. And the Bronkhorstspruit 32 km race is in February. So it's time for a series of half marathons, regardless of how ill-prepared I feel.

    From last year's race, and even the year before, the routine is now old hat: North on Hans Coverdale West, east on Hans Coverdale North, south on Hans Coverdale East, west on Hans Coverdale South and then another lap. And on the second lap there was going to be a very nasty little extra hill, and a stretch of going west in Hans Coverdale North. I knew that it wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

    Laurens was going to pick me up. At about 05:00, I had a text message from him. He wasn't healthy. I would have to drag myself out of the house and, using super-human motivation, make my way to the start alone. I found parking a block from the stadium. I was early, so I intended to spend a few minutes at the club tent. Not far from my car, I bumped into the Terrible Twins on their way to the start. I decided to join them. At least this way I could keep an eye on them. The start was busy, and we parked ourselves in the middle of the bunch. We exchanged stories about selfies, because several kids were taking pictures of themselves in our immediate vicinity. I saw Mandy and Wanja in the bunch, as well as Johan. Neville was near us. The Twins and I were planning two laps; Neville was taking the sensible option and would be abandoning us after a single lap. I discovered that it is hard to keep a conversation going with the Twins. Elaine seems to be everyone's friend. Our chat was interrupted by dozens of admirers who came to say hello. I didn't know any of them. And here I thought I was her only fan...

    There was a Minute of Silence prior to the start, for a well-known athlete who had been knocked down and killed in Thembisa earlier this week. Actually, it was 19 s of almost-silence. Just as the last athletes in the bunch stopped talking, the announcer re-started his continuous babble. The start was exactly on time. The street was very full, and it took about a minute to cross thes start line. The bunch flowed reasonably well. I saw Hennie briefly. The Twins were mostly just ahead of me, babbling continuously. I was gasping for breath. At the 2 km mark, I was almost a minute off the pace. Not too bad, considering the slow start, but the horrible hills were lying ahead. Locals were sitting by the roadside, dispensing advice, encouragement and bad, loud music in equal measure. I walked most of the steepest hills, along with most of the runners around me. Locals kept yelling criticism to the tune that running shoes are not made for walking. I invited them to join us. None accepted.

    I gradually lost ground to my planned pace. By 4 km, I was three minutes behind. This deficit stayed much the same for a long time. Ahead of me was a runner who was clowning around. Or so I thought. He was running with extreme knock knees, with his toes pointed inwards. Surely no-one could maintain that gait for any period of time without breaking something? It soon became clear that he was just running in his natural style. And regardless of what I thought about his style, he was still ahead of me!

    I passed the 10 km mark and the beginning of the second lap at 1:03. Wanja was just ahead. I wanted to pass her, as I knew that she never walked on uphills. I needed a head start, failing which I would never see her again. I couldn't do it, though. As we hit the foothills, she was just ahead of me. To my amazement, I was able to catch her around the 13 km mark, as she was also walking up the hills. We chatted for a while. She had broken some toes a few months ago, and was also trying her first half marathon in many moons. Neither of us was having an easy time of it. She commented about Mr X Legs ahead of us, saying that she initially thought he was clowning around. I told her that I'd had exactly the same thoughts on the first lap, but felt that I had to point out that he was still ahead of us. On the steep hills, I had some pain in my left knee, and my right calf muscle was complaining slightly. I hoped it wasn't going to tear again.

    In the hills on the second lap, I lost more and more time. In Helium Street, an official told us that it was all downhill now. I knew he was lying. The loop to make up the extra km would wind back up the mountain before passing the cemetary. By the 17 km mark, I was over 10 minutes behind my pace. I chirped to Wanja that we could finish in 2:22:22 if we sped up slightly. I was only half joking. At least the last 3 km would be mostly a slight downhill.

    The distance markers were as broken as last year, so I never knew how far we still had to go. Wanja lagged behind with around 3 km to go. Soon after, I saw Jonathan ahead. I actually passed him at one point, but he sailed past again in the last km for a strong finish. I caught up about a minute in the last 3 km, finishing in about 2:15:30. Jonathan was just ahead. Wanja was not far behind. The Twins finished about 10 minutes later.

    At the Club tent, everyone complained of slow times. It seems like the route was slightly long, and the temperature was 30°C in my car on the way home. I suppose I should be happy. Although I was slower than planned, I did manage to complete a half marathon relatively unscathed. By mid-day, only some stiffness and a dull ache in my left knee were left. There is hope that I will be able to run again on Tuesday.

    The Good: Festive atmosphere (as one would expect in Eersterus on weekends!). Good marshalling. Green cold drinks at all the waterpoints (except the finish).

    The Bad: Those hills are still not getting any easier. The distance markers were again completely broken.

    The Ugly: Manoni Club's CGA5975, who loudly dispensed his questionable taste in music to all around him.

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    Sterkfontein Parkrun, Tuesday 2019-01-01 at 09:00

    Goal: Don't crash. Under 30 minutes would be nice.

    Today was going to be the big day. We would run the Valhalla Parkrun, then zip across to Mogale City for the Sterkfontein Parkrun. There was some ambiguity on the Valhalla Website, so we had a Plan B. The Golden Harvest Parkrun was accessible, provided we could leave Valhalla by 06:45. Accordingly, we left Laurensís home just after 06:30. It was raining continuously. This day was going to be wet.

    The first spanner in the works happened about five minutes from Laurens's home, when I realised that didnít have my Parkrun barcode with me. We turned around to get it. It was now unlikely that we could make it back to Valhalla in time for the 07:00 start. We eventually decided to head straight to Golden Harvest, as we had a better chance of making it there by 07:30.

    We got there with several minutes to spare. Unfortunately, we got bad news as the gate. The park was flooded with "two feet of water". The Parkrun had been cancelled. I was disappointed, but on the other hand, I definitely didnít want to get both feet wet. We headed to Sterkfontein Parkrun, making phone calls on the way to find out whether that run would still be on. We didnít want to play in the same horror movie twice, and we could still find an alternative if we started early enough. At the venue, there was lots of activity, and we soon confirmed that the run would be happening.

    We now had an hour to kill. Being growing boys, we decided to look for breakfast. We found breakfast at the Key West Mall, then headed back to the site. We had to park several blocks away. Clearly, the crowds had not been deterred by the pouring rain.

    The start announcements started ten minutes late. We were all looking like rained-on chickens. The race director made the announcements, repeating three times that we should "keep right" and even getting the crowd to say it after her. Bruce Fordyce said a few words. Thank goodness—many words would have been really painful in that drizzle. We set off, and it soon became obvious that this Parkrun wasnít going to be the easiest or the fastest ever. The ground was rough, the slopes were steep and the mud was slippery. I saw many runners skidding, but my foot slipped only once. After about 2 km, I was being blocked by two runners abreast. I asked them politely (or so I thought) to keep right. The one runner started pontificating about how one has to keep left, and how I wasnít a real runner, and how Iíd never run a real race before, and how some guys just donít get it. I kept trying to pass on the left. At one point, she cut in front of me, almost causing me to crash into a tree. I held out my hand straight in front of me to indicate that I was there. I lightly touched her shoulder. She turned around, elbowed me forcefully and yelled at me. I later had to look up the four-letter word she used. It seems to be a vulgar word pertaining to intercourse, with the remarkable characteristic that it can serve as a noun, a verb, an adjective, an interjection or an adverb. Live and learn! At least the vulgarity aspect was perfectly evident to me from the outset.

    The route was steep in places, often on a narrow path with two-way traffic. Keeping right seemed to work well. Iím obviously not a real runner. As if to prove that point, it soon became evident that I wasnít going to make it in 30 minutes. I managed to maintain a fairly even pace, and crossed the line in about 32:30, in 92nd place and feeling strong. Laurens finished a few minutes after me, also feeling good.

    The results showed that the winner was no less than Shadrack Hoff. The relatively slow winning time of 19:38 makes it clear that I wasnít the only one suffering in the conditions!

    Was the expedition a success? It was disappointing to miss out on two new Parkruns for the day, but in retrospect it wasnít a bad outing. The Parkrun itself was quite an adventure, and the leisurely breakfast beforehand wasnít too bad either. And we were home by 10:00!

    The Good: Good organisation. Good distance markers. Beating not just Bruce Fordyce, but three Fordyces, fair and square!

    The Bad: The difficult conditions and steep slopes made for a challenging and interesting run...

    The Ugly: The local "real runner" with the colourful vocabulary.

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    2018 Races

    Old Year's Race, Monday 2018-12-31 at 17:00

    Goal: Survive 10 km and remain strong enough for two 5 km runs tomorrow morning.

    Today would be the first time in many moons that I would attempt a 10 km race. This fact alone is daunting. The further little detail that weíre in the middle of an athletics fest involving two Parkruns tomorrow made me more than just a little apprehensive. I decided to take it easy, with the sole goal to survive intact for tomorrow morningís capers.

    The Old Yearís Race (despite its dubious linguistic veracity) is a long-time institution in our area. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately for a fragile runner), the route changed a couple of years ago, excluding the horribly steep hill around three-quarters through the race. Rumour has it that some carmudgeon complained about people having fun in the neighbourhood, and they had to re-route the race to avoid his street. Nevertheless, even without the sting in the tail, 10 km is a respectable distance for someone who hasnít done it recently.

    I came straight from the office, electing to buy a temporary licence rather than having to drive back to my house. I arrived about 25 minutes early, and very quickly managed to get the number and tack it to my shirt. It was raining, and I stayed indoors as long as I could. Wanja and Juline and Mandy were there, as were Laurens and Peter and his wife. The Terrible Twins were also there, admitting boldly that they had come there with the sole purpose of humiliating me in public. Again.

    I got lucky. As I left the building at 16:55, the rain reduced to a slight drizzle. It stayed that way for a while, and then stopped entirely. I never got more than slightly damp. The start was a few minutes late. It didnít feel like a slow start, with a very small bunch, but I was almost two minutes off the pace at the 1 km mark. Laurens and the Twins were with me, with Wanja and Juline just behind. The Twins were chatting continuously, just to show me. Although we would miss the nastiest hill, there was plenty of undulation in the route, and I often found myself walking. The Twins did too, presumably just to annoy me.

    Although it wasnít quite a two-lapper, there was a lot of winding and weaving to fit a 10 km route into a small suburb. I was severely traumatised near the half-way mark, when the lead vehicle came screaming past, followed by some sinewy athletes at breakneck speed. Itís been a while since I have been lapped in a race, and it wasnít a nice feeling. Fortunately, I soon saw the 5 km mark up ahead, and felt a little better. They still had some way to go when I passed the halfway mark, so at least I wasnít taking more than twice as long!

    Around the 6 km mark, I was walking up the hill to the highest point with the Twins when Wanja and Juline shot past. We were 1:40 behind my planned progress, and they provided the incentive I needed to pick up the pace. I had relatively little time to make up almost two minutes. I moved as fast as I dared, jockeying for position with a guy panting like a steam train and a woman in black looking very determined indeed. With 3 km to go, I had 1:20 to gain. With 1 km to go, facing the oncoming traffic in Soutpansberg again, I had 0:55 to gain. I sailed home with 20 s to spare before the hour elapsed, suggesting that Iíd done the last km in well under five minutes. There is some life left in these old legs after all, despite all indications to the contrary.

    Mandy was waiting at the finish, looking rested. Laurens finished about two minutes behind me, followed by the Twins and then by Wanja and Juline. They had maintained almost exactly the same pace since I left them, and they looked relaxed.

    As I write this report, perhaps two hours after the race, I feel pretty good. Iím hoping I actually got away with it. There is a slight ache in my left knee and a hint of stiffness in the calves, but it looks like I should be ready for some action in the morning. A good nightís rest, and I should be ready to hit the road around 06:00 for our first Parkrun. Survive that one, reposition to the next one in under an hour, and survive the second one—thatís the order of business tomorrow.

    With just over 1000 km in the log for the year, it looks like Iím well positioned to start some serious Comrades training this week. Just cover 1000 km or so, get some other training like swimming and biking, and stay injury free. Piece of cake. Letís hope it proves as easy as it sounds!

    The Good: Breaking the hour mark relatively easily and remaining unscathed.

    The Bad: Those hills are not to be sniffed at.

    The Ugly: Almost being lapped by the winners.

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    Laudium Parkrun, Saturday 2018-12-29 at 08:00

    Goal: Beat 30 minutes without breaking something.

    A bout of over-exuberance after my personal-best previous Parkrun caused me to tear a calf muscle. A six-week recovery period followed, and I'm only now getting ready to try some "normal" running again. Laurens has likewise suffered from a hamstring injury, and is also taking it easy. We therefore decided to use the festive period to rack up some new Parkruns. Both of us have done seven previous Parkruns, but in very different ways. I've done six different Parkruns, while Laurens's previous experience has all been at a single venue. Given that we know that some Parkruns do exceptional runs on public holidays, we did some homework. We were too late for the Christmas bonus races, but it seems feasible to do two new Parkruns on New Year's Day. So step one was to do a new Parkrun today (a routine Saturday) and then find two Parkruns that happen at different times on Tuesday.

    I picked Laurens up at 07:12 and proceeded to Laudium. We arrived with plenty of time to explore the environment. We even took a warm-up run down the route with the tail walker, who was doing his own Parkrun before taking up his duties.

    Announcements started exactly at 08:00. Visitors were welcomed, some from as far afield as Port Elizabeth. A local youngster and a white Rasta bolted from the start and quickly built up a lead. I resisted the temptation to chase them. A woman ran past and followed them. I was impressed, but she didn't last long. I settled down into a two-way tussle for third place. My partner didn't know the route either, so we had to try and stay in sight of the two leaders. Very soon, they were out of sight half the time. The route was mostly marked with yellow stones, but in places they were a little confusing. We gradually descended into the cricket club, running around several pitches before tackling the uphill back to the start. We entered the second lap from the main entrance. Somehow, the hills seemed so much steeper this time. Number Three started leaving me behind just as another runner passed us. I settled into fifth place, with my previous partner just ahead and another runner just behind. I started lapping the stragglers halfway through the second lap. The climb up to the finish was torture, and I probably would have slacked off a lot had it not been for Number Six about 100 m behind. I finished in fifth place in about 28 minutes. Laurens finished about two minutes behind me in tenth place. The results took longer to appear than expected, only showing up on the Web site at 17:26. There's something to be said for smaller Parkruns—neither of us could dream of a Top Ten finish at a busy venue!

    The Good: Good organisation, no traffic and green surroundings.

    The Bad: No distance markers.

    The Ugly: Those hills on the second lap...

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    Delaware and Raritan Canal Parkrun, Saturday 2018-11-10 at 09:00

    Goal: Try a Parkrun in foreign climes. And use the ideal conditions to set a respectable time.

    I was in the USA for some gliding, and could not resist the temptation to run a Parkrun there. My trip had been arranged at fairly short notice, so I could not make use of the opportunities afforded by the Marine Corps Maraton and the New York City Marathon during my stay. Parkruns have not really taken off in the USA. Surprisingly so, given that the "five kay" is a popular distance in that country, and that their races are extraordinarily expensive. There are only 27 Parkruns countrywide, very thinly distributed indeed.

    I planned to try the Delaware and Raritan Canal Parkrun. This Parkrun takes place on the western outskirts of New York City, near Somerset, New Jersey. It typically attracts a small field, with the previous week's record entry attributed to the nearby marathon. I had to repeatedly adjust my travel schedule due to changing demands, but still managed to end up in the right area around sunset on Friday night. After having had to make a detour to get around a damaged bridge, I found the correct parking lot. I spent some time surveying the area before finding myself a place to sleep for the night. I could not identify the Parkrun route, as I hadn't seen the map in several weeks, but I did walk around the park and look at the general lay of the land before finding a place to sleep for the night.

    I arrived early. There was no sign of activity, except for a handful of people walking their dogs in the bitter cold. I was wearing a parka, gloves and a woollen hat. My breath formed clouds around me as I walked. These would be ideal competitive conditions.

    Around 08:50, two dozen people started arriving and ambling down to the river. It took some resolve to strip down to running gear. We were starting from a completely different location to the one I had surveyed the previous day. Nevertheless, it was clear that the route would be completely flat, a definite plus for someone who lives in hill country. The announcements were made, and there was a question about visitors. Several hands went up, and one mentioned that he was from Britain. There was considerable excitement about the visitor from a distant place. We started around 09:05. I settled into third place, behind the Briton, who in turn was pursuing one of the locals. We ran between a canal and a river on a paved trail. Both the canal and the river showed no perceptible flow, suggesting that the slope was practically zero. Probably because I ran alone, I was able to maintain a 5:00/km pace to within a few seconds, up to the 3 km mark. At this point, I started suffering. I still had the Briton in sight, and a local was chasing me from behind. The pursuer passed me before 4 km, and I desperately chased him for the last while. I managed to make up about half a minute in the last 2 km, allowing me to finish in just about exactly 24:30.

    The results were pleasing in more ways than one. Apart from my fastest Parkrun ever, I also achieved my highest placing. Let's just ignore the fact that it was also the smallest field ever...

    The Good: Lots of sea-level oxygen and perfectly level terrain, resulting in a personal best.

    The Bad: Not much, really.

    The Ugly: I may never improve on my Parkrun personal best again, at least not in my native high-altitude hill country!

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    CSIR Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2018-10-21 at 06:00

    Goal: Help as marshal, then earn some League points in the Helpers' Race.

    This year's race would be a League race, so good attendance could be expected. I was placed at the same place as the last two years, at the end of the nastiest climb in the entire race. I had severe trouble getting in through the gate, as the guard had been instructed to lock the gate at 05:00. Nevertheless, we were in position around 05:40. Jon came by to check around 05:50. The start must have taken place on time, as the lead car came up the hill around 06:15 showing more than 14 minutes on the clock. After the first few runners, the density of the bunch started growing, until around 6:30 there was a continuous stream of bodies streaming up the hill. Most of them looked slightly strained, having conquered the steep hill to turn left at my marshalling point, only to find a dirt road climbing even further up the hill.

    I saw dozens of familiar faces in the crowd; Danie, Debbie, Wayne, Kevin, Sonet, Melanie, Iain, Louis, Laurens, Tebogo, Marix, Hennie and Elbert spring to mind, more or less in order of appearance. I tried to encourage them, pointing out that the flat part of the route was almost over. Laura showed up after a while, reporting that her first half marathon attempt was thus far going exactly according to plan. Around 07:10, the traffic slowed to a trickle. Once I thought the last walker had passed, I drove down to the East Gate to ensure that no stragglers remained. I advised Jon, who asked me to find out where the last half marathon runner was. Alet and I drove down the route, finding the last half marathoner around the 8 km mark. I then crawled through the traffic, escaping to meet an Air Force commitment by eight.

    The next morning, it was to be my turn to face the same route in the Helpers' Race. I reported at the start just before 06:00. We all filled in our entry slips, and started around 06:05. A group of four, led by Colin, immediately left us behind. Zelldra ran with me for a while, claiming that she was so unfit that she was probably going to crack around 6 km. I had the distinct impression that she was going to crack me instead, so I let her go. Brian was just ahead of her, and the two were soon joined by another runner. There was now a group of four in the distance, the group of three just visible ahead of me, a solitary runner in bright yellow behind me and then a large bunch. In Brummeria, the group ahead of me took a wrong turn. I hollered at them, and they corrected. The group behind me hollered at me, trying to verify that I was still on the correct route. If I had any doubts, at least they were allayed when I soon saw the 3 km mark, the only one that had been left behind from the previous day. We soon found our way back to the CSIR East Gate. After a slight kink, we hit the steep uphill on which I had been perched the previous day. I got to sample the grim reality of that climb for myself. I valiantly ran up the first part, but nonchalantly strolled up the dirt track for the last half of the climb. When I got to the crest near the tower, I resumed my run, about two minutes behind 6:00/km pace. I soon found myself back on the tar road and very familiar terrain, circumnavigating the building in which I work before climbing to the highest point on the road. From there it would all be downhill.

    I slowly but surely caught up with Brian. The yellow runner was still behind me. I was determined not to let him catch me. I maintained a steady pace on the downhill, completing the first loop with the group of three just ahead. I directed Brian into the second loop, and passed him in the loop for a strong finish. The last km took well under four minutes, at least indicating that there was still some reserve left in my legs. I finished in 55:44, roughly in line with expectations given the hilly terrain and good for six points for my club. Of course, Zelldra was standing at the finish line, looking relaxed and rested. I'll never believe her again, ever...

    The Good: A chance to see thousands of runners in action.

    The Bad: Seeing how far down the field my peer group is.

    The Ugly: Having to face those same hills myself the next day.

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    Voortrekker Monument Parkrun, Saturday 2018-10-15 at 08:00

    Goal: Survive.

    This was going to be a tough morning.

    Our club's Jacaranda City Challenge Marathon was on. I was scheduled to help with the parking, starting at 03:30. As is often the case when I have to get up very early, I slept fitfully. I really didn't feel very strong when the alarm clock went!

    I stood to direct the traffic from 03:30 to about 05:30. I had to find a public toilet, which took a while. I then set off to the Voortrekker Monument, arriving around 06:40. I slept in my car in front of the gate. Just after 07:00, I was woken up by a forceful knock on the window. The security guards were worried that they might have to call the morgue. I entered the premises and got another 40 minutes of sleep. When the alarm clock went at 07:45, I needed a lot of resolve to drag myself out of the car. Alet was parked not far from me, and we ambled to the start. After the customary announcements, we started up a very steep hill. The Website advertised a steep climb to Fort Schanskop, followed by an equally steep descent to the finish. In reality, the route was very different. After the initial madly-steep ascent, we ran around the Monument on a relatively flat ring road before resuming the climb towards the fort. I had a hard time just maintaining 6:00/km. We ran through the fort between the 3 km and 4 km marks, descending madly down a steep gradient. I pursued a youngster with earphones and a barefoot runner about my age. Just after the circle, where I expected to turn right and tackle the ultra- steep descent to the start venue, we were directed into a channel and unceremoniously finished.

    To my amazement, Mapmyrun claims that the finish is only 16 m higher than the start! It also claims that the route is flat from 3 to 4 km, something which is very far from the truth. Nevertheless, the route shows up as 300 m too long, which helps a little to ease the pain. The 28:41 is my slowest Parkrun so far, by a long shot.

    The Good: No traffic. Good distance markings. Reminiscing about my victory in a cycling race at the same venue, almost 40 years ago.

    The Bad: The Monument is on a hill. A very steep hill.

    The Ugly: Having to keep my eyes open.

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    Capital Classic Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2018-10-06 at 06:00

    Goal: 21,1 km in 2:00 or so.

    Like last year, this race would be Agape Athletics Club's annual half marathon championship. As before, the sponsors would celebrate their Scottish heritage by encouraging runners and marshals to wear kilts. Anyone completing the half marathon in a kilt wins a Chamberlains gift voucher.

    This time, the weather was fine. I got up at 05:00 and made my way to the venue. I found parking a few blocks away and managed to enter and line up at the start with about 10 minutes to spare. I easily found Louw and Marita, and Laurens joined us a few minutes later. Laurens was also wearing his kilt, but all three of them had decided to opt for the 10 km race.

    As I haven't exactly been training hard, my goals for this year were even more modest than last year's. I didn't even bring PJ's SHESM with me.

    We were again walked from the initial start to the real start line, but this time without a pipe band. It was a welcome relief. Louw and Marita bolted from the start line, and I didn't see them again. Laurens stayed with me initially. On the protracted uphill around the 2 km mark, he stayed behind. I expected him to catch up with me on the downhill, so I didn't wait. I didn't see any markers before the 3 km mark. At this point, I was almost three minutes too slow for a two-hour finish. I wasn't worried just yet, as the start had been relatively slow. I made up a bit of time on the descent into the Innovation Hub. At least the dirt road has been tarred in the recent past, making the descent a little less risky. I passed Ken N, who was wearing a white T-shirt and a temporary number. He'd apparently forgotten his club garb and licence at home. The climb up Meiring Naude Drive is never a lot of fun, but I cruised across the bridge at the crest feeling relatively strong. After the gradual descent to the start of the second lap, I crossed the 10 km mark at 1:01; at least four minutes behind schedule.

    Although I managed to maintain my pace fairly well during the second half, I wasn't able to catch up on my planned pace. About 3 km from the end, two clubmates cruised past. I set about chasing them, but just could not maintain their pace. The incentive helped, though, as I was able to maintain a much faster pace on the last stretch than I had been doing. The last km sailed past in under five minutes. As I entered the finish venue, I noticed another clubmate in front of me. I was catching up quickly, but not quickly enough. Gustav finished just one second before me. Not much of an ego trip to be beaten by the first walker in my club, in my age group!

    I collected my shopping voucher and bumped into Laurens. He had decided to wait for me, and we set off to our customary post-race breakfast venue. I unexpectedly got an invitation from Louw to do some gliding for the rest of the day. I would be lying if I didn't admit that it became a looooooong day. About two hours into that flight, I started feeling very sorry indeed for myself and mysomewhat tender glutei maximi...

    The Good: Relatively easy parking. Good marshalling. Good water points, including green drinks.

    The Bad: The slog up King's Highway and Meiring Naude. Twice.

    The Ugly: Finding a neat pile of three unspent Chamberlain's gift vouchers in my wallet.

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    Kroonstad Parkrun 5 km, Saturday 2018-09-29 at 08:00

    Goal: Finish in the top 100 in a Parkrun...

    I had to be in Kroonstad for some weekend gliding, so I decided to take in the Kroonstad Parkrun before reporting for the day's activities. I was awake well before the 4:20 alarm clock, and despite the drive of well over two hours, arrived at the venue with plenty of time to spare. Attendance was lower than most of the Parkruns I've attended, but there was a lot of banter as we waited for the briefing and start. The briefing (in Afrikaans nogal) was comprehensive and included a welcome to all out-of town visitors.

    The start was quick, and I ended up in 15th position as we went through the first gate. Most of those ahead of me were primary school kids, with one or two adults in hot pursuit. The first stretch was out-and-back, so I got a good look at much of the field after the turn at the 1 km mark. After about 2 km, we turned north. As one would expect in the central Free State, the route was mostly flat, with only a slight uphill grade to the windpump at the northern end. I was in 12th position by this time, and jostled for position with another runner for the remainder of the route. I did some walking, and eventually saw him slipping ahead. I was strongly motivated by a pursuer perhaps a hundred metres behind me, and finished strongly. The sequence marker was not handed to me. Instead, it was on a ring held by a volunteer, who presented the tags to the scanner in order of finish.

    While waiting at the finish, I chatted to my pursuer. He thought the route might be a little short, perhaps 4,8 km or so. He is preparing for Two Oceans, and had run to the venue from his home in town. After chatting for a few minutes, he set off to return home. At least he did have the decency to admit that he had desperately pursued me and failed miserably. So there.

    As is customary, the results appeared within hours.

    I managed to tackle my day without being unduly exhausted, but nevertheless having had some vigorous exercise. At least my ever-improving results give me the impression that the regular training is not a total waste of time!

    The Good: A nice run through flat countryside, with quick and comprehensive results and no traffic.

    The Bad: Not much!

    The Ugly: Up at 04:00...

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    Muller Potgieter Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2018-09-08 at 06:00

    Goal: Half marathon under two hours, if possible.

    After several weeks of travel and other commitments, I wanted to get some distance on my legs again. PJ has been torturing me twice a week with sessions of around 10 km, but despite trying very hard and being coaxed by lots of competitive testosterone, we haven't been able to do better than 06:00/km pace. Maybe the steep hills around the CSIR had something to do with it, but it is still frustrating to be relegated to little more than walking pace.

    This race shares its venue with the Jackie Mekler 25 km race. I dragged myself out of bed at 04:40, collected Laurens at 05:20 and managed to find parking and enter very easily. We lined up for the 06:00 start with a few minutes to spare. It was cold, but not to the extent of recent races. The horn sounded about two minutes late, and we set off in a smooth start. Both Laurens and I suffered from stiffness and discomfort, but the first km went by in 6:15. I would have to maintain a 5:40 pace or so, but there was lots of time. At the 1 km mark, Melani cruised past, casually mentioning that she had been out of action since May due to an injury. She didn't look very injured to me. We passed walkers Jaap and Gustav around 2 km—a likely sign that we were going a bit too fast. At the first water point, I lost Laurens. It soon became apparent that he was well behind me. I didn't wait, as he has a habit of catching up on the downhills. I soon caught up with Melani, and we spent several km chatting. I was suitably impressed to learn about their travel plans for the next month or two. She soon struck up a conversation with another woman. I was somewhat relieved, as I didn't have much oxygen to squander. We ran through the upper half of Valhalla, on reasonably level terrain. I was relieved to notice that we were maintaining the required pace without too much discomfort. I was also relieved to notice that we didn't take the Jackie Mekler's steep downhill route all the way to the Hennops river.

    Melani pretended to be taking it easy in the aftermath of her injury. Nevertheless, she remained with me until she split off to the 10 km finish. I passed the 10 km mark at 55:30, well on track for two hours. In the second half, I walked more regularly than in the first, definitely feeling the effects of the first lap. This time, we did descend all the way to the Hennops. Getting back up the hill wasn't much fun at all. Once back in Paul Kruger Road, I was confident that a two-hour finish was in the bag, and I started working towards beating 1:59. At the 19 and 20 km marks, I was well on track. The last km seemed very long. Despite being slightly downhill and me running comfortably most of the time, it took well over six minutes. I finished at 1:59:57 according to the clock. I suppose it is sub-two, but that's cutting it a bit too fine for my liking.

    Laurens was waiting for me at the gate with a medal around his neck. It turned out that he'd had some trouble and decided to call it quits after the first lap. Our Club tent was not there, so we cruised to his house and then to our customary breakfast buffet. I was decidedly stiff on my way back to the car.

    If I am to make another attempt at Comrades next year, there is definitely a lot of work to do!

    The Good: Easy parking and entries. Good marshalling and light traffic.

    The Bad: No green cold drinks on the route; just caffeine and water.

    The Ugly: The female PMC athlete who cut 45° in front of me, almost causing me to crash. Is she a part-time minibus taxi driver, or what?

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    Wierie Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2018-08-11 at 06:30

    Goal: Half marathon under two hours, if possible.

    I haven't done a half marathon under two hours in six months, but based on recent progress, I was hoping that today was the day. Unlike last year, I didn't schedule any further commitments for the rest of the day. And this year, I was still slightly sore from Thursday's proceedings at Castle Walk.

    I collected Laurens at 05:55. We arrived around 06:15. Entries went smoothly, and we were lined up at the start with about five minutes to spare. There was a nasty nip in the air, and between the cold and the after-effects of Thursday's race, I wobbled awkwardly for the first km or two. Iain was regaling one of his clubmates with a biased account of Thursday's tale that I shared with him, while I was trying for dear life to keep up with Laurens. As is his habit when my tempering influence is not around, he started much too quickly, and we shot past the 1 km mark in 5:20. This time, the distance markers were perfect—a far cry from the total absence at last year's race.

    We were gradually descending, and I knew that we'd have to recover the altitude at some point. From about 5,5 km, we climbed continuously for more than 2 km. We were climbing straight into the rising sun, making it impossible to see the officials and the traffic ahead. About 1 km of slight downhill followed, then a gradual climb back to the starting point. The 10 km finishers peeled off to the left. We hit the 10 km mark at 0:57, just a minute short of the required pace. I was feeling relatively comfortable, and was hopeful that we would make it. I lost Laurens on the uphill. I didn't wait, as I assumed that he would overtake me on the downhill, as is his custom.

    Just after completing the 1 km loop, we saw the 5 km finishers passing us in the opposite direction. The first two were probably the captain and the vice-captain of the school rugby team. Number three looked like the school nerd. Number six was an overly-friendly li'l people person who grinned widely and waved at us as she passed effortlessly. She could have been no older than ten. It was quite an incongruous sight. I would keep an eye on her for the 2024 Olympics.

    Ms Aurecon provided me with constant pace from 10 to about 14 km. Just as she left me behind, Laurens approached from behind. He was complaining loudly that he didn't think we'd make two hours, given the amount of climbing ahead. I admonished him as not being a quitter, and told him that I thought it was doable, given enough determination. As if to prove me right, he shot past and disappeared up ahead. I thought he was overdoing things, and overtook him on the tedious climb. By the end of the climb, I could no longer see him behind me. I just continued with a walk-run strategy, and around the 18 km mark it became evident that I was going to make it in under two hours. Two Affies runners cruised past, encouraging me to join them. I couldn't quite keep up, but in chasing them, I did manage to finish just behind Ms Aurecon, in just short of 1:59. Laurens finished less than a minute behind me. He had apparently caught up nicely while I was doing my walk-run thing in the last km.

    There were goodie bags and green drinks at the end. I collected my jacket from the club tent and spent a few minutes breathing heavily before tackling the trip back to the car and the now-customary breakfast buffet.

    The Good: Easy parking. Plenty of water and green cold drinks (albeit of the unbranded variety). And good distance markers.

    The Bad: Feeling smug about a sub-two-hour finish. It's not supposed to be a big deal!

    The Ugly: Those stiff calves the next day. Note to self: Don't do Castle Walk and a half marathon in the same week...

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    Castle Walk 10 km, Thursday 2018-08-09 at 07:00

    Goal: 10 km in under an hour.

    Like last year, I set a modest target. The hilly terrain wasn't going to make it easy, and I'm not at my fittest. I was sorely tempted to stay in bed, as the wind buffeted the house throughout the night and it wasn't exactly warm. I arrived about 15 minutes early. I found parking close by. Entries were quick and painless, and the start bunch was relatively small. Seems like many others succumbed to the temptation to stay under the blankets.

    Laurens said that he might stay in bed due to some sniffles. I couldn't find him at the start, so I chatted to Josias and Ken. I took the initial uphill easy, then cruised down the protracted downhill. I surprised myself by finding enough breath to tell Iain at length about my recent flight in Yemen. I arrived at the halfway mark about two minutes ahead of schedule, leaving me with 32 minutes for the last half. Given the serious climbs, it wasn't going to be easy. I ran for a while with an Affies bunch, passing James on the way. I could see Frances up ahead, and used her as a pace marker. Unfortunately, I could not shrink the gap.

    With about 3 km to go, we joined the 5 km tailenders. The road was very busy, but most of them managed to keep left and our progress was not impeded. Just before the 8 km mark, I finally managed to sail past Frances. I cruised strongly up the last hill, and to my own amazement, managed to finish with about two minutes to spare.

    We all received goodie bags, but I did not find the contents inspiring. There were no free drinks this year. I spent some time at the Club tent, chatting to Josias and Mandy, before making my way to the breakfast buffet place. It had been a great start to a restful public holiday!

    The Good: Easy parking and entries. Leafy surroundings. Distance markers were fine this year.

    The Bad: No cold drinks on the route, just water.

    The Ugly: These hills are not getting any better.

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    Botanical Gardens Parkrun 5 km, Saturday 2018-08-04 at 08:00

    Goal: 15 km or so, just to get some distance on these legs.

    With the Spar Ladies Race being held this afternoon, and with me not gender-identifying as a Lady (even in these enlightened times), I was wondering what to do. I've had three slow weeks, with 10 days in stifling-hot Dubai for simulator training and then more than a week of sniffles eating into my regular running. Louw asked me on Friday if there was a race on, so I had no excuse. I suggested that Laurens and I would meet Louw at his house around 07:15 and include the 5 km between his house and the Botanical Gardens as a warmup and cooldown.

    I hadn't done this Parkrun since my first attempt in February, so this attempt would be my second. I was hoping to match my previous time. Hoping for a substantial improvement was probably too much to ask under the circumstances.

    We left Louw's house a few minutes late, but with plenty of time to make it to the venue in time. Arriving early would not be a great idea, as we didn't want to cool down too much before the start gun went. Both Laurens and I were a little sluggish—Laurens as an after-effect of the previous Saturday's sub-two half marathon and I as a result of a sedentary lifestyle and advanced age. Plus possibly some after-effects of the sniffles. Louw suggested a detour to avoid the busy Watermeyer Street, but we declined. Running more than absolutely necessary was not part of the plan.

    Amanda picked Louw up close to the start venue. We met them at the gate, made our way through the crowd and got into position just as the gun went. The start, just like last time, consisted of countless maniacs dashing madly for the first turn. I resisted the temptation, but once I'd turned the corner, none of my companions appeared to be close to me. I was in a fairly tight bunch, but no-one obstructed my progress. Ahead of me was a young woman, ostensibly of Indian descent, whom I immediately dubbed Pocahontas (although I didn't find it necessary to share this fact with her).

    I did a bit of walking on the worst uphills. Mostly, I cruised at a comfortable rate. Pocahontas maintained a fixed pace, and we played Hare and Tortoise several times. On the second lap, I'm not convinced I would have been able to maintain anywhere near the pace without her.

    As we tackled the steep climb back across the ridge on the second lap, we started hitting the slow traffic in earnest. Most people were fairly considerate, keeping left and allowing the runners to pass on the right. A few needed verbal prodding, and I was politely asking a bunch of walkers to keep left when one of them pointed out to me that they were forking to the right for their second lap. The split was not marked, and the official standing there was not very helpful. I managed to overtake Pocahontas in the last 100 m, and was handed a tag showing Number 76 as I finished just under 27 minutes. Beats my previous 109th finish!

    I stayed near the finish, waiting for Louw and Laurens to show up. Laurens did, just a minute behind me, but Louw was nowhere to be found. Laurens told me that Louw had been ahead of him, so we speculated that he might have retraced his steps to find Amanda after completing the course. We did likewise. I saw Ken finishing, probably with an impressive age-graded time as always! After a while, we decided that it was now too late, and returned to the finish. We found Louw there. It turned out that Amanda had run much too fast and only completed one lap. Louw had pursued me with great vigour and missed the final left turn to the finish, running an extra km or so in the process.

    The official results appeared around 16:00. This time, I didn't show up in the results. "Unknown" was 76th of about 1000 finishers, with an official time of 26:48. Laurens was just over a minute behind me. Louw got lucky. He presented his tag after his unscheduled detour, but didn't show up in the official results. At least he avoided the black mark on his record!

    The route back to Louw's house was torture. I'd used up my running brownie points for the day, so I resorted to a 4+1 survival strategy for much of the route. We also took the scenic route, adding about 1 km to the distance. When I started feeling better half-way through, I used the opportunity to do some informal fartlek, and caught up with some news with Louw. Laurens was still suffering the after-effects of the previous week. At least Louw and I managed to complete the last km to his house in 5:40—almost a respectable pace for us old fogies.

    After a bit of scratching around, I sent an email to the local Parkrun organisers. By mid-day on Sunday, my name appeared in the results. And it's a new Personal Record too!

    The Parkrun is definitely a great resource. Being able to run in controlled conditions away from traffic, without spending a cent on entry fees, strikes me as a great idea. Unfortunately, the phenomenon has not taken root everywhere, but at least in some countries it is well represented. Maybe we should find a few Parkruns with fewer finishers, so at least I can jack up my personal best finish ranking!

    The Good: Still free, at a reasonable time, with quick and comprehensive results and no traffic. I like it.

    The Bad: No distance markers. The invisible official at the final split that caught two of us unawares.

    The Ugly: The 6 km home...

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    Garsfontein Ice Breaker 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2018-07-07 at 07:00

    Goal: Half marathon at 6:00/km with as little heel striking as possible. And earn some league points for the Club.

    Had Laurens not conned me into pre-entering for this half marathon, I might well have stayed in bed. After a week characterised by sleep deprivation, strenuous manual labour and no running, plus a long list of commitments for the rest of the weekend, I was decidedly inclined towards just lazing the morning away in bed. As it was, I valiantly dragged myself out of bed at 06:15 and jumped into my car. I had a logistical challenge too: I didn't have anything in the house for breakfast.

    For the first time this year, I wore a T-shirt under my vest. It must have been the title of the race that got the better of me, I guess. It was cooler than last year, at around 7°C, but not the coldest race in recent memory by far. The start was again somewhat crowded, and I passed the 1 km mark in about 7:50. I was running uncomfortably, slightly stiff from the week's abuse. Around 2 km I started loosening up, as we started the relentless climb to recover the initial descent. By the 7 km mark, I had reduced my deficit from two minutes to about one. However, here things started slipping. I ate my emergency gel as a precaution, but there was nothing sugary without caffeine to drink. At the end of the first lap, I noticed Lammie walking back to his car. He must have done the 10 km race, and earned a gazillion points for the club in the 70-plus category. We passed the 10 km mark around 1:04. I grimly tried to reduce the four-minute deficit, but it grew to almost six minutes at one point. The last stretch home contains several vicious hills, which did nothing to make it easier. I managed to finish in just over 2:12, about five minutes off the pace. Reading last year's report makes for demoralising reading. It was so much faster and so much easier, suggesting that my training will need to resume at some stage! The upside is that I managed to restrict the heel-striking to reasonable levels. Maybe I'll yet learn to run like a real athlete one day...

    After the race, I picked up my jacket from the Club tent and drove off with Laurens for the breakfast buffet that seems to be becoming a regular fixture. After seeing to a tyre problem on my car and getting a 90-minute snooze, my heart rate was back under 50. At least I haven't completely turned into lard.

    The Good: Easy parking. Relatively little traffic. Good distance markers. Leafy surroundings.

    The Bad: No caffeine-free cool drinks!

    The Ugly: 2:12! I made the cutoff for five points by less than a minute.

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    Glenfair Boulevard 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2018-06-30 at 07:00

    Goal: Half marathon at 6:00/km with as little heel striking as possible.

    I've been trying to reduce my tendency to crash down on my heels when I run. It's an uphill battle, if you'll excuse the pun. After several weeks of experiments, I was going to try my hand at a half marathon. The course is very hilly, as I can still vividly remember from last year. To minimise the possibility of injuring myself, I wore my supportive race shoes, but resolved to try to touch down with as little heel impact as possible.

    For some reason, I woke up half an hour before my alarm clock, despite not having had much sleep. I left home too early, and by the time I realised that I was making a mistake, I was already on the road. I easily found parking and spent almost half an hour sitting in my car. The thermometer showed 5,5°C, and I wasn't too keen to stand around much.

    I made my way to the start around 06:50. I was feeling cold, and again I was one of few athletes without a jersey or jacket of some description. I chatted to Neville for a while. While scanning the crowd for Laurens and Erna and Hester, I noticed my colleague Louis. Soon, a face started bobbing up and down beside him, intermittently becoming visible. It was Laura, another colleague who had recently started running. I made my way over to them, and chatted for a few minutes before the gun went. Laura was quite adamant that they would not be running together, so I fully expected Louis to come gliding past me at some stage. Like last year, the start was reasonably quick, despite me being in the back of the bunch. I concentrated on my gait, and managed to get it right most of the time. I could definitely feel the effects in my calves, though!

    Up the first hill, I chatted to Wallie and Josias. The latter was recovering from Comrades, but seemed comfortable and relaxed. We were catching up to Ken for a while, but he soon pulled away from us, presumably on his way to another victory in the 80+ category. Around the 5 km mark, Josias and Wallie lagged behind, and I ran with Hendrik for a while. After the last steep uphill in Ashton Street, we hit the 9 km mark. I knew it was fairly level from there, and briefly toyed with the idea of bailing out at the 10 km finish. Wanja and Mandy came past, looking comfortable. Wanja turned off to the finish, while Mandy continued to gradually open up a gap ahead of me. I passed the 10 km marker almost exactly on pace. I was vaguely surprised that Louis hadn't passed me. Maybe he did run with Laura after all. In the loop soon thereafter, I could see Ken and Walter well ahead of me, then Mandy. Behind me I was surprised to find Laurens. I had assumed that he would be ahead, as he is not famous for showing restraint in his post-Comrades recovery phase. Wallie and Josias were also there. Around the 12 km mark, I lost sight of Mandy. I was definitely suffering a bit on the uphills, and gradually losing ground to my planned pace. Josias came by, telling me that he was chasing a friend who was doing her first half marathon. I continued to walk and run, slipping increasingly behind my target.

    After climbing the last steep hill for the second time, I tried to make up a bit of time. I was feeling very sorry for myself by this time. Hester came from ahead, having completed the 10 km race and looking exasperatingly fresh. She was pushing a pram and had the two boys in tow on their bikes. My frazzled brain didn't realise until much later that the family must have been on the way home. Somehow, the last km took much longer than I expected. I'm not sure if there might have been a measurement error. It's something I'd like to believe, as I finished almost four minutes behind my planned pace. I spent a few minutes at the club tent before heading off to tackle a busy day.

    I write this piece just more than 24 hours later. I'm definitely stiffer and more sore than usual, yet it seems like the session didn't do too much damage. Maybe I'll finally learn how to run properly after all.

    The Good: Relatively little traffic. Good distance markers. Easy parking. Good water points.

    The Bad: Missing my target by four minutes.

    The Ugly: The Metro policeman who ran with me for about 5 km, who casually tossed all his water sachets onto the road surface. So much for setting a good example.

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    Run for Bibles 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2018-06-23 at 07:30

    Goal: Earn 6 points for the club (10 km in under 56:45).

    I collected Laurens at 06:40. We found parking in the grounds, and managed to enter with plenty of time to spare. Considering that it was a league race with the normal huge crowd, everything went very smoothly. I bumped into Miriam near the start. When I last saw her, she was expecting her first child. She had a teenage daughter with her. It's been a while.

    The thermometer showed under 6°C when we left the car, so I stayed at the tent with my jacket on until just a few minutes before the start. I positioned myself near the front, as I didn't think the cutoff for six points would be easy to achieve. The start featured a sharp turn after about 100 m, so I expected heavy traffic. In the event, it wasn't too bad. Xolani on his crutches has become a feature of AGN races, and he departed about five minutes before the bunch. The start was on time, and twenty seconds later I was around the corner and running freely. The first km flashed by in 5:00, with a slight downhill grade. I maintained a constant 5:30/km thereafter, with few exceptions. I occasionally walked on uphills.

    Just after the 4 km mark, I saw a runner stumbling ahead of me. He managed to regain his balance. Amazingly, he had stumbled on the same undulation in the tar that had caused Ken to crash last year. At least this guy got off without injuries. Lammie came sailing past and disappeared up ahead. Around the 8 km mark, we joined the 5 km walkers. Most of them were ambling in relaxed fashion, but there was enough room for everyone. I was pleased that I was able to maintain my pace to the finish, and arrived at the finish line with a minute and a half to spare. I was pleasantly surprised. Given my rather lacklustre training of late, I wasn't expecting it to be so easy.

    I noticed several Comrades runners from our club, running much too fast for someone who is supposed to be recovering. Kevin and Sonet were running strongly, and tackled a second lap when I was just finishing. Laurens also arrived just ahead of me. Amazingly, Lammie finished behind me, having taken a wrong turn. Marshals at one of the splits were calling two options: 5 and 21. Lammie took the 5, and ended up having to retrace his steps.

    Organisation was great. The route was well marked, with little trouble from traffic. Parking was well marked. Marshalling mostly worked well. There was plenty to drink, including caffeine-free cold drinks. All in all, an impressive race! After spending a few minutes in the queue to get through the exit gate, Laurens and I enjoyed a quick buffet breakfast before I raced off to join friends to go gliding.

    The Good: A pretty flat route, with little traffic. Good distance markers. Parking was well organised. I achieved my goal, with time to spare.

    The Bad: Not much.

    The Ugly: Marshals doing weird things at the split.

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    Roses Parkrun 5 km, Saturday 2018-06-16 at 08:00

    Goal: 5 km in under 27:00.

    With Comrades behind us and winter showing its teeth, there is a paucity of races in our area. After last week's Parkrun and a lazy training week, I toyed with the idea of trying another new Parkrun in our area. I tried to get several friends interested. PJ and Hester declined, inviting me to a 27 km run instead. I politely declined, pleading self-preservation. I've already suffered enough for one lifetime. Louw and Amanda were more interested. So at the crack of dawn, Louw, Amanda, Alet, Marita and I departed for Ludwig's Roses, the rose farm about 25 km north of Pretoria. Marita was noncommittal on her expected time. Louw was apologetic, claiming major injuries and citing a gut-wrenching war story to support the claim. I should have known.

    We arrived about 20 minutes early, staying put in the car for some time to avoid freezing to death without our multi-layered clothing. At 07:50, we took the plunge and lined up at the start. The announcements were clear, although I got the impression that the route markers might leave room for some guesswork. I started near the front, hoping to maintain that position. Just before the start, a large but elderly German shepherd (a breed of dog, just to avoid confusion) ambled by. A little white mutt barked furiously, straining at its leash to gain the right to savage the Alsatian. As we started, I counted nine runners ahead, so I was number 10. The guy restraining the shaving brush cruised by. I thought it unfair that he was using external propulsion, but in all fairness, having to put up with that shaving brush every day is a terrible price to pay for mere running glory. Another one or two runners cruised past. As we approached the 1 km mark, I walked up a steep incline onto a dam wall. The first lady sailed past. Marita! She looked comfortable and disappeared up ahead, passing the 1 km mark at 05:00. Another dog sailed past, this time a larger breed trying to drag the owner along, and having no luck as the owner was comfortably keeping the tension off the leash. It just looked too easy. After just more than 2 km, I was walking up an incline when a voice behind me suggested that I might run again, as I'd been caught. Louw cruised by as I begged for mercy, out of breath. He also gradually increased his lead, never to be seen again. I passed the shaving brush, this time being reluctantly dragged along by the owner. Justice!

    The route winds among the rose bushes, with turns marked by large rocks sporting white arrows. I lost sight of the preceding runner around the 3 km mark. Given the uncertainty suggested by the start announcer, I wasn't sure that I was on the right route at all, the series of white arrows and the timing between distance markers worked well. I thought that I was number 19 at this time, but was given the Number 16 bar code. My time was 27:10, a few seconds slower than last week. The second lady arrived seconds after me. Imagine my surprise when she turned out to be Elaine, one of the two ghouls haunting me at almost every time trial and race for the past few months, chattering incessantly while sailing effortlessly past me. At least this time she was alone and behind me. Maybe the chattering makes her faster...

    We could select a rose from a bucket at the finish. I found the nicest-looking pink rose in the bunch and pulled it out. It was attached to another, landing me with a pair of pretty respectable roses. I had some damage to my shoe, so I went barefoot. Neither the sharp stones nor the soggy ice-cold ground proved to be much fun, but I'm trying to harden up for my planned barefoot running attempt. Amanda and Alet strolled in about 25 minutes after me, in a tight bunch. We cruised back home for another sumptuous breakfast at the buffet place. All in all, not a bad way to spend an early Saturday morning.


    The Good: Like last week, a flat route, with no traffic. Well marked, including distance markers. Parking close by. Nice ambience, with thousands of rose bushes all round. And it's free!

    The Bad: I'm clearly not getting any stronger with my current level of training.

    The Ugly: The contemptuous ease with which my frieds sail past. No respect!

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    Bapsfontein Parkrun 5 km, Saturday 2018-06-09 at 08:00

    Goal: 5 km in well under 28:00.

    With Comrades tomorrow, there are no races in my area, so I decided to tackle another Parkrun. I decided to tackle a new venue, not too far from home, with fewer participants and an opportunity to improve on my 109th place finish in the previous one. Bapsfontein seemed a great place to go, with a rural environment and not too many participants. My 28-odd minutes on the previous race would have placed me around 14th last week! I spent a few minutes warming up, as the temperature was not far above freezing and my muscles were very sluggish. I noticed that the ground was quite uneven, and many of the holes were hidden by perfectly-flat lawn grass. I made a mental note to pay lots of attention to my footing.

    The announcer was hard to hear, as the megaphone was placed too far from the start line and many participants were chatting loudly. The start was furious, and even though I deliberately resisted the temptation to follow the maniacs ahead, the 1 km marker flashed by in under 4:40. I was aiming for around 5:20/km, so I really had to slow down. I took a walk break on the first gentle uphill, and soon managed to get my breathing under control. I was surrounded by people who were obviously more used to these short distances than I was, and I had to be very careful not to follow them to destruction. One guy with a dog passed me at a gentle trot. The dog took a leak, and they again passed me effortlessly. The figure-eight route traverses reasonably flat terrain, with a gentle descent to and climb from a dam at the lower property boundary. The first three km markers were visible and appeared accurately placed. I didn't see the 4 km marker.

    I trimmed about a minute off my previous attempt, and ended in 24th place. Official results later in the day showed 214 finishers, placing me 11% down the field. With a bit of work, perhaps I can figure out this 5 km race thing. Either way, the 5 km time trial will be useful if I decide to tackle a real training programme one of these days—it is the starting point from which I'll have to determine my training pace.


    The Good: Flat route, with no traffic. Well marked, including distance markers.

    The Bad: Uneven footing, with potential for ankle injuries.

    The Ugly: The grey-haired 60-something who sailed past in the last km to finish ahead of me...

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    Race of Faith 15, 10 and 5 km, Saturday 2018-06-02 at 07:00

    Goal: 15 km at well under 6:00/km.

    Laurens and I agreed to meet before the start. He was going to do a leisurely 15 km, but his idea of leisurely wasn't exactly clear. Given that Comrades happens in just eight days, it wasn't going to be a speed session, though.

    Traffic wasn't too bad, with the snarl-up only starting at the traffic light next to Silver Oaks Crossing. We found parking about 500 m from the centre. Entries were reasonably prompt, with enough pens at the tables. I left my jacket at the Club tent. Hennie wasn't running, as he was going to get the food ready. There was a definite bite in the air, and I noticed with some amusement that I was the only runner in my part of the bunch with no more than a vest to cover my torso. The bunch was not huge, and despite starting well down the group, I passed the start line about 20 s after the gun. It took a while for my gait to settle down, but once warmed up, I was cruising comfortably. We soon entered the Silver Lakes Estate, and cruised past mansions with perfectly manicured lawns and no traffic at all. I spent some time chatting with Deon, as Laurens decided to slow down and take it easy. Around the 2 km mark, we were climbing a gentle rise exactly into the sun. I could hardly see the road surface ahead, and could not recognise the marshal to my right. As I passed him, he called my name. I turned around to find Koos there; one of the two runners living in Silver Lakes that I know. I soon found myself with Chris and a bunch of other Affies runners. I was relieved that I wasn't wearing an Affies hat. They left me behind around the 7 km mark, and I watched them gradually disappear into the distance. I passed Gustav, who was making great strides (sic) as usual. He was a little concerned about the advertised off-road stretch. I found myself thinking that off-road in Silver Lakes was probably still better than most municipal roads...

    We meandered through the estate, working our way towards the game reserve section in the northeast. As we entered the gate, I passed Danie and Melani—the other two runner-residents of Silver Lakes that I know. Danie was announcing the 10/15 split through a megaphone. We ran past their house, then descended into the valley to give me my first-ever glimpse of the actual lake. We skirted the lake, the proceeded to the north wall. I was gratified to pass several members of the Affies group, one by one. At least I wasn't the only one that found their pace a bit much. At the 10 km mark, we turned left to follow the dirt road used by wall patrols. It was indeed pretty smooth, with just a touch of moisture from the previous night's light rain. Had it rained hard, it could have become pretty nasty. A dozen bushbuck bolted past, skirting the bushes in the opposite direction. We cruised along the N4 for about 2 km, then turned left toward the finish. Mari sailed past. She explained at great length why she was taking it to easy. I was too breathless to respond. We rejoined the 5 and 10 km runners (probably more like walkers) just after re-entering the Estate roads. At the 12 km mark, I was about three minutes ahead of my target, and feeling pretty comfortable. I walked occasionally, but was still aiming for about 1:27. I never saw another distance marker, and needed my full concentration to weave past the walkers taking up the full width of the available paving. I followed a strong runner to the finish, to cross the line just under 1:23. I was a little puzzled, but assumed that the route must have been short. Indeed, several Club members with fancy GPSs confirmed that the route had been about 500 m short. We were treated with boerewors rolls. Laurens and Alet both finished a few minutes behind me, with Alet having done the shorter 10 km route. I spent some time chatting with Ken and Neville, before departing to a nearby buffet restaurant to enjoy a hearty breakfast with Laurens, Alet and Neville.

    My left ankle is still giving me trouble, but at least the ligaments that were torn in February seem to be behaving well enough. I haven't quite decided what to do next. Maybe the time has come to tackle another concentrated training programme. Maybe for a 10 km race in October? We'll see.

    The Good: Scenic flat route, mostly inside the opulent neighbourhood. Light traffic. Good water points.

    The Bad: Not much. We've had two good races in a row!

    The Ugly: The woman with the Porsche who insisted on driving among the runners and who seems to confuse the purpose of indicators and hazard lights...

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    Cosmo Run 10 and 5 km, Saturday 2018-05-26 at 08:00

    Goal: 10 km in well under an hour (<6:00/km).

    Laurens tried to talk me into doing the Hercules race with him. I was not too keen to get up early and drive halfway around the planet for 10 km of running. Eventually, we settled on the Cosmo Run, which was taking place at the much more civilised hour of 08:00 and much closer to home. We would meet at the gate to the Botanical Gardens at 07:30. I arrived a few minutes earlier. I found parking right in front of the gate. There was a nip in the air (my car said it was 10°C), so I kept my jacket on. Laurens was a few minutes late. It turned out that there had been an altercation between car guards that resulted in some stone-throwing, so he was a little apprehensive about damage. Entries were easy, except that the entry form demanded all kinds of personal information that they had no business with. Fortunately, the person behind the table did not push the issue, and I got away with number 2222 in my hand without having to disclose my entire pedigree.

    Laurens, Neville and I took a short run before the start to loosen up. Laurens was far more determined than Neville and I, and we turned back to the start long before him. The bunch was not huge—perhaps 800 people or so. The start was relatively orderly, although the path was busy as we negotiated the initial uphill. We were still in the Botanical Gardens when we saw the first distance marker: 9 km to go. Unlike most races, this one counted down. Just after leaving the gate, we hit some really steep uphill to the east of the Gardens. As I've often observed before, I must have an allergy for concrete. I found myself unable to run, having to amble up the hill and gasping for breath. Laurens had disappeared quite soon, but I grimly pursued Neville as he maintained a lead of up to half a minute. With 7 km to go, we were descending into Silverton. With 5 km to go, we were in the valley, making our way back to the Garden. I was making up a little time on my goal at this point, and I was hopeful that I might be able to shave a few minutes off that dreaded hour. I covered about 2 km with Neville, exchanging ideas on various topics. I'll never look at Neville with the same eyes again. We entered the north gate with just over 2 km to go. We soon joined the 5 km walkers, and had to negotiate a constant stream of slow walkers all the way to the finish. At least it gave me an excuse to walk now and then. I finished in about 57:25, with Laurens about a minute ahead and Neville about a minute behind.

    At the finish, we received shopping bags with some goodies. I was envious when I saw what Laurens got. I wasn't as lucky. Nevertheless, I was happy with achieving my goal. I suppose it wasn't too shabby, given the hilly terrain. Maybe I'll actually become a runner again one day...

    The Good: Nice scenic route, with almost half inside the Garden and the rest in a relatively traffic-free leafy neighbourhood. Nice goody bag.

    The Bad: Not much.

    The Ugly: Last week's hills in Valhalla were no isolated incident. The joys of living on the rim of the world's largest impact crater...

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    Jackie Mekler 25 and 10 km, Saturday 2018-05-12 at 06:30

    Goal: 25 km at as close as possible to 2:30 (6:00/km).

    Last year, this race came at the height of my Comrades preparation. This year, things were very different. After my foot injury in February, I've done two half marathons, both in a slow time of around 2:20. So this 25 km race was not to be taken lightly. Nevertheless, I was hoping to start regaining some speed, perhaps around the 6:00/km mark. I arrived at Jonathan's house around 05:40. We collected Laurens and set off to the venue. Traffic was very slow close to the venue, but I was able to buy my entry and report at the start before the appointed time. Laurens and Jon were both planning an easy pace of 6:30 and 6:40/km respectively. I was sceptical. Neither of them is known for restraint when it comes to maintaining slow pace. The start was about 10 minutes late, presumably because of traffic delays and entrants still streaming into the start well after the appointed time of 06:30.

    We were about a quarter down the bunch, and managed to break into a comfortable run pace quite quickly. We passed the 1 km mark at about 07:00, a minute behind my pace. Not bad! As expected, Laurens and Jon were much faster than advertised, and gnattering constantly just behind me. By 3 km, we'd made up the minute we lost at the start, and were exactly on pace at 6:00/km. The twins were still there. They gradually fell behind somewhere around the 4 km mark. By this time, we were going downhill into Valhalla. I overtook Gustav and we chatted briefly. He was walking a constant 6:00/km, so I made a mental note to keep him in sight as a pace marker. Around 6 km, the Lenoges came past. We ran together for almost 10 km, alternating positions as I took the odd walk break. As is their custom, they maintained their very constant pace nicely.

    Just before the 10 km mark, a woman complained loudly about the missing distance marker. I was surprised, as I'd seen them come and go like clockwork, and was within 5 s of my pace at each of them. I told them that I expected the 10 km marker to pop up in exactly 40 s. They disagreed, as their fancy GPS watches said 10 and 10,3 km respectively. They didn't appear to notice the irony of the significant discrepancy between their ultra-accurate tools. As luck would have it, we passed the 10 km mark at exactly 1:00:01, one second after I said we would. They looked a little sheepish. I didn't.

    The second lap has an extra loop extending much further south and much further downhill. And, of course, one has to painfully regain that height on the return. We rejoined the first lap route just before the half marathon mark. Between 15 and 20 km, I'd lost about two minutes to my planned pace. At this point, the Lenoges were slightly ahead, and I was running with Karien and another Agape runner I don't know. I was also being tormented by the same two women who torture me on the Tuesday time trials, by repeatedly walking ahead of me and then overtaking me effortlessly, all while chatting continuously. Their actions don't go down well when I am on my last legs and gasping for breath. The same Irene crew from last week's race also sailed by on one of the uphills.

    I passed the half marathon mark in 2:09, about 12 minutes faster than the previous two races and about two minutes behind my planned pace. I found the thought of another 4 km rather daunting, but was determined to survive. I used lampposts for a 4+1 walk strategy for the last stretch. I jostled for position with a female 40-something runner from Striders. We were comparing notes about various aches and pains. Strangely, my major problem was with the glutea maxima, both of which were making their presence known in no uncertain terms. I managed to complete the last 3 km in about 17 minutes, finishing in just under 2:32. I was happy. Despite the mediocre time, I was only 5 s/km off my planned pace, and actually felt reasonably strong.

    There was little activity at the Club tent. I was expecting to wait about 12 minutes for Laurens and Jonathan, but saw Laurens finishing only about three minutes after me. When I found him in the crowd, Jon was there too. He'd finished just before Laurens. So much for their intended restraint. I took the opportunity to stretch out on the grass and watch the clouds sail by while they queued for a caffeine fix. We strolled back to the car and made our way out of there quite painlessly. The Military Precision of previous years had failed, and the airshow was not on the same day this time. We didn't have the distraction of aircraft overhead during the race, but at least we didn't have to battle the traffic like the previous year either.

    We were all happy. I'd almost achieved my planned pace, which is not a bad thing given the constraints. Laurens and Jon had comfortably exceeded their planned pace, without feeling much the worse for wear. They both seem to be happy that they are well on their way to Comrades, although they both seem to feel that a bit more distance in the logbook would have been more comfortable. And I'm starting to think that I may be able to resume a decent training schedule again one of these days.

    The Good: Great distance markers; I saw all 25 of them! Good marshalling and not too much traffic.

    The Bad: Congested entry tables and a lack of pens.

    The Ugly: Those Valhalla hills just aren't getting any flatter.

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    The Love Run Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2018-05-05 at 07:00

    Goal: Survive the Half Marathon.

    Like last year, it was cold and threatening rain. This time, I was nowhere near as fit. With only one half marathon behind me in more than three months, I faced this hilly route with some trepidation. Laurens was planning a gentle run, with a goal time similar to my 2:15 or so. We met at the start, near the back of the bunch. The route was roughly the reverse of last year's route, leaving the nastiest hills to much later in the race.

    Also like last year, many runners were clad in warm clothing. With the cold not being quite as severe, at least I wasn't alone in my minimal vest this time. As we were tagged electronically, we started at the back of the bunch, crossing the line about 2:20 after the gun. Roald joined us from behind around the 2 km mark. We found our way across January Masilela quite soon, meandering through the relatively flat terrain of Constantia Park for the first 6 km or so. Laurens lagged behind as Roald and I chatted, mostly about aviation. I was a little surprised, as Laurens was constantly about 50 m behind us. We waited for him several times, but around the 7 km mark we lost him completely. We maintained a relatively gentle pace, making not much better than 7:00/km most of the time. I was in no hurry, as I knew that there were some vicious hills between us and the finish. I feared that the organisers might not be able to resist the temptation to include them in our route.

    I was right. In the second half of the first lap, we faced a nagging climb, depositing us on the hill south of the church. The last portion was a steep descent, followed by a short climb before separating from the 10 km runners. The second half was similar to the first. Like last year, there were many ostensibly strong runners cruising relatively slowly in anticipation of Comrades in less than a month. Unlike last year, I was not one of them. One group of Irene runners came cruing past around the 13 km mark. I could not maintain their pace, but by alternating my walking and running, I was able to keep them in sight.

    With about 3 km to go, I knew that I would last the distance, and allowed myself to speed up somewhat. I was able to cover the last 3,1 km in 18 minutes, leaving my tormentors from Irene behind. Still, my time was more than 20 minutes slower than last year, and I felt considerably less unscathed. My left knee was again complaining, and I had a massive blister on my left foot. However, I came close to matching my time in the Wally Hayward earlier in the week, suggesting that my foot injury is on the mend.

    Laurens arrived a few minutes after me. It turned out that he'd repeated his low heart rate exercise, taking a walk break whenever his heart rate exceeded 138. No wonder he didn't stick with us! We enjoyed a great buffet breakfast nearby before tackling the remainder of a busy Saturday.

    The Good: Good organisation. Relatively little traffic. Great running weather. Signs of a recovered injury.

    The Bad: Another runner with a boom box, and not much interest from the referees in doing anything about it.

    The Ugly: Slow paceó20 minutes slower than last year and with more aches and pains!

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    MiWay Wally Hayward Marathon, Half Marathon and 10 km, Tuesday 2018-05-01 at 06:30

    Goal: Survive the half marathon.

    I've had a lay-off of almost two months after severely injuring my left foot by stepping in a hole. After several weeks of gentle jogging to get back into shape, I decided to try a half marathon for size. I was unexpectedly out of town for the long weekend, so the Wally offered the first opportunity to catch up. The venue has changed, now being at the Centurion Rugby Club, not far from the cricket stadium.

    Laurens was going to run the full two-lap marathon, while I was going to do a single lap. We were planning similar paces, and were looking forward to a great opportunity to do some catching up. Laurens told me that there would be self-seeding, and we agreed to meet around the 4:30 mark. We also had alternative rendezvous plans, just in case.

    The street in front of the rugby club was crowded but orderly. However, there was no sign of the self-seeding pens I expected to see. I tried for a long time to find Laurens, all in vain. I started about five minutes late, and waited after the first turn and at the first water point. At this point it was clear that I'd been stood up. I now knew what a voluptuous blonde feels like when she is dumped at the roadside from some flashy Ferrari.

    The first portion of the route is a gentle uphill. I was right at the back of the bunch, and on the uphill I was constantly passing people. The bunch got increasingly denser. I saw Willie and Suzette and Hennie and Marix, all taking it easy to survive for the long haul ahead. After about 5 km, I was shoulder to shoulder with a mass of humanity, with a solid stream of runners filling up the full width of the major roads up ahead as far as the eye could see. It was quite a thrilling sight! At about this time, the leading 10 km runners started passing us, after starting a quarter of an hour behind us. I settled into a relaxed rhythm, careful not to exceed the ability of my unconditioned body. I had some niggles from my left foot and knee, but nothing that I could not live with.

    I saw the first distance marker at 8 km. It was lying toppled behind a rubbish bin. Up to this point, I'd been keeping track of distance solely by my stopwatch. I was about five minutes behind my imagined pace, which came as a nasty surprise! Nevertheless, I managed to maintain my planned pace of 6:20/km fairly accurately for the next 10 km or so. I managed to speed up substantially in the last 3 km, encouraged by the need to get away from the two 5:00 buses. Amazingly, I was going to pass the half-marathon mark in just over 2:20, yet both buses were ahead of me until very close to the end. They were both about ten minutes too early at the halfway mark! Clearly they believe in the "sprint until you crash and then crawl" approach. About three minutes from the finish, the lead vehicle for the marathon appeared in front of us, closely followed by the four leading runners. It was amazing to see them speeding past, having covered twice the distance and still looking much more comfortable than I felt. It was an amazing coincidence to be able to see the marathon leaders finish right in front of me.

    One facet of the race that I found profoundly unpleasant is an increasing tendency for runners to carry boom boxes and foist their dubious taste in music upon the surrounding runners. I don't think I'm alone when I resent the beat-driven cacophony dispensed by these thoughtless runners.

    I was delighted with the outcome. I survived my first half marathon in several months reasonably intact, and even got a refrigerated bright pink washcloth for my trouble. After a long walk back to my car, I was out of there without significant traffic delays (as long as I stayed away from the race route!).

    The Good: Amazing organisation—a start of 9000 athletes that goes smoothly, efficient water points, good traffic. Surviving a half marathon again!

    The Bad: Distance markers were few and far between (or possibly invisible?).

    The Ugly: Those oafs with the portable sound systems that force the rest of us to share in their dodgy musical tastes...

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    Botanical Gardens Parkrun 5 km, Saturday 2018-02-10 at 08:00

    Goal: Check out the Parkrun phenomenon.

    Today's race was in Bronkhorstspruit, a 45 minute drive away. More importantly, it was a 32 km race. Last year, I managed to complete it at faster than 6:00/km, but this year, I would probably not survive without serious damage. I wasn't going to drive all that way for a 10 km race, so I decided to use the opportunity to try out the Parkrun phenomenon.

    For those of you that haven't been on Planet Earth in a year or three, Parkrun is an organisation with weekly 5 km runs in parks all over the world. My nearest one is not far from my office, in the Pretoria Botanical Gardens. I like the idea of the Parkrun. It starts at 08:00, which strikes me as a fine time for a race to start. None of this getting up at (or before!) the crack of dawn. Then there is the entry fee: It's completely free! Finally, the results appear within hours. In my case, I see official results as an excellent way to keep me humble.

    The organisation is simple. You register on the Web site, then print a barcode on paper. Take the barcode with you, and you're ready to go.

    I've therefore been wanting to do this run for some time, and registered some months ago. This Saturday was the first that seemed set to work out. I arrived around 07:30, easily found parking and made my way to the start. I spent some time chatting to other starters, and gained some valuable tips. I exchanged a few words with the Mollers and with De Wet. I bumped into Francois at the start—a nice surprise. We chatted for a few minutes, before I set off for a five-minute warmup. I was ready at the start just in time for the gun. Just before the gun went, Laurens tapped me on the shoulder. I had tried to get in touch with him during the week to arrange a joint effort, but it never quite worked out. Needless to say, I was pleased to see him.

    My warmup run did nothing to set my mind at ease. To quote from the official course description: "It is a double lap course, quite flat and fast". Now if you know the Botanical Gardens, you would know why I was more than just a little sceptical. Even if you are a regular reader of these race reports, you will have gathered that Pretoria and environs cannot be considered either "flat" or "fast". We started quite quickly, with the runners on the right and the walkers on the left. The first section is slightly downhill. I was on the right. Unlike the usual race starts, there were no walkers in my way. Indeed, the biggest challenge was madmen (for they were mostly men) dashing past headlong at incredible speeds. I wondered if they knew that we had a full 5 km ahead of us.

    Laurens and I stayed pretty close together. As is normally the case, he tended to sail past on the downhills, and I tended to catch up on the uphills. The course is almost oval, starting westbound, then making a clockwise turn around the Gardens. There is a long, gentle uphill on the back straight, followed by a short, nasty climb back across the ridge before arriving near the main gate again. "Quite flat and fast" my foot! On the second lap, we would turn left into the finish just before the original start venue.

    We constantly caught up with slower runners. These were over-exuberant starters that were paying the price. I shamelessly walked up the steep hill, as did many around me. Around the 3 km mark (or so I surmised from the time), we started passing walkers. Most of them were fairly good at keeping left, so we weren't being obstructed too much. It got worse towards the end, as the bunch became denser and denser. I did some walking and some running, and managed to stumble across the line in about 28:15. I'd lost Laurens somewhere around the 4 km mark. To my surprise, he didn't catch up on the downhill stretch to the finish. As I passed the official finish line, they handed me a little barcode with the number "109" on it. I handed this slip and my own barcode to someone with a scanner, and they entered me into the database.

    The official results appeared within hours. I was indeed 109th of about 1700 finishers, with an official time of 28:04. Laurens was less than a minute behind me. Clearly, the organisation is as slick as I was told it would be, although it looked like their timing was off by perhaps 10 seconds.

    My interest has been piqued. I understand that it is possible to gain all kinds of milestones, like running a certain number of parkruns, or running at a certain number of venues. I'll keep my eyes open in future when I travel. Perhaps we can work in a few more venues in the next few months.

    The Good: It's free. I could get up at a reasonable time. Results are quick and comprehensive. No traffic. What's there not to like?

    The Bad: "Quite flat and fast" my foot!

    The Ugly: The Affies staff member with his/her BMW X5 that parked illegally, blocking my departure from the parking lot and forcing me to wait half an hour until someone could let me out. I know it's a BMW X5, so rules are only for other people, but still.

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    Wonderpark/Akasia 10 km, half marathon and marathon, Saturday 2018-01-27 at 05:30 and 06:00

    Goal: 10 km in 0:56 to earn five points for my club.

    Given my recent sluggish state, I decided to run the 10 km race rather than the half marathon. The later start (06:00 rather than 05:30) was a factor, as was the fact that it was a league race, and it is easier to earn points over the shorter distance. I could either run 50:15 for six points or 56:00 for five points. Given my state, the former was completely outside my reach, and the latter sounded doable, with a bit of effort.

    Like last year, the weather was perfect. A low cloudbase and a slight nip in the air made for perfect running conditions. Neville had told me that rain was expected, but fortunately it was not raining at the start. The traffic was dense, but we managed to find parking reasonably close to the venue. As we arrived, the full and half marathon runners were starting. Entries were reasonably painless, and I was looking for a place in the start bunch with almost 15 minutes to spare. I wanted to be reasonably far forward, but not to the extent that I would be a nuisance to the faster runners behind me. Relatively few of my clubmates were spotted.

    The start was very, very slow. We started down an urban street, and the slow runners had seemingly all started ahead of me. Clearly, I had been too considerate! It took more than four minutes before I could break into a sustainable run. By the 1 km mark, I was almost two minutes behind schedule.

    The 2 km mark was clearly misplaced (either that or I had done a sub-4 km!). Otherwise, everything about the race was perfect. Marshalling was effective, turn markers were clear, distance markers were exact and visible, water points were efficient and there were enough caffeine-free drinks.

    Terrain is as flat as anything I've seen in Pretoria. The only exception is a nasty hill in the last km, leading up to the bridge across the R80, but at least it is very short. I struggled to make up the two minute deficit. By the halfway mark, I was down to about a minute, but could not make any headway over the next 3 km or so. At the 9 km mark, I faced the task of completing a sub-4 km if I wanted my five points. It was a tall order, with the steep hill and a gentle but sustained climb all the way to the finish. I ended at 56:33, close but no cigar. Maybe I should have started in the front row...

    At the Club tent, Ken Nurden informed me that the League cutoff times have changed. Apparently, the scale now goes from 1 to 10 instead of to 7. The tables are not available anywhere, so I have no idea how I did. Imagine, I could have saved myself all that effort!

    It started raining about half an hour after I finished, so I got soaked to the skin walking back to the car. Plans to wait out the rain while having a hearty breakfast were thwarted by a long queue of other runners with the same idea.

    The Good: Excellent organisation. The flattest course in the Pretoria area. Enough green cold drinks.

    The Bad: Getting soaked to the skin on the way back to the car.

    The Ugly: I'm a far cry from my own self a year ago!

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    Eersterus 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2018-01-13 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive. 6:00/km would be nice.

    After last week's disaster, I was not sure what to expect today. There is some very hilly terrain, so in principle it wouldn't be any easier this time.

    From last year's race, I knew the routine: North on Hans Coverdale West, east on Hans Coverdale North, south on Hans Coverdale East, west on Hans Coverdale South and then another lap. And on the second lap there was going to be a very nasty little extra hill. How difficult could it possibly be?

    I was a few minutes late for the start. As luck would have it, this time they started early. When I crossed the start line at 06:03, the official time was already over four minutes. I resisted the temptation to regain too much time too soon, knowing as I did that there were going to be some nasty hills. And since I hadn't run since my slowest half marathon ever last weekend, I wasn't going to be any stronger this time.

    I worked my way through the ever-denser bunch. I passed Elbert, Hennie and Marix and a clubmate that I didn't know. Because the race entry slips were not visible, I didn't know who was going to do only one lap, and who would soldier on to the end. Around the 3 km mark, I had an unpleasant interaction. A woman suddenly changed direction in front of me, cutting in front of me and almost causing me to lose my footing. I stuck my right arm out in front of me to alert her to what was happening. She crashed into my arm, and immediately started swearing at me. I didn't respond, but another woman in the 2:30 bus to my left also started gushing invective. I again decided not to respond, instead getting as much distance as possible between myself and the bus. I was just reminded again that Gauteng's population is a very stressed one.

    Fortunately, there was no further unpleasantness from fellow runners. Instead, the nasty hills were doing all the work in that department. I included lavish doses of walking in my regimen, and managed to maintain an average pace of about 6:00/km. I didn't manage to eliminate the deficit due to the late start, though.

    Around the 6 km mark, I caught up with Marius. Now I don't know if he was still smarting from me overtaking him in the finish straight last week, but he decided to stick with me for the remainder and make my life a misery by insisting that he would also walk whenever I did. He caused me to be racked with guilt if I didn't run most of the time. Now it's not only a bad thing, as I would imagine I could have easily notched up yet another all-time record for time on the road if it weren't for his torture. Either way, for the remaining three-quarters of the race, I was coaxed mercilessly. Coming down from the dizzy heights of Hans Coverdale North, even further east than Hans Coverdale East, we passed a cemetary. In a glycogen-deprived haze, I wondered if it might be called Laasterus.

    The extra loop in the second lap was rather confusing, as for a while before ascending to Helium Avenue, we actually ran west on Hans Coverdale North. That wasn't part of the plan!

    The distance markers on the last lap were definitely broken. Again, each pair of boards (7 and 18, 8 and 19, 9 and 20) was out of sequence, suggesting that either or both boards of each pair must be significantly out of position. Nevertheless, I finally staggered into the stadium after a reasonably strong finish, covering the last 2 km or so at less than 6:00/km. There wasn't a lot of fun to be had in that last stretch, but we did manage to maintain a respectable average pace.

    I managed to break 2:20 by seconds, with Marius just behind me. Taking the start delay into account, I lost about nine minutes to my hoped-for pace. Looks like I'll have to take some drastic action if I want to return to more respectable times—like to actually train between races! Marius mentioned to me that last week had also been his all-time slowest.

    This time, I was thoroughly wrung out. I slept for a while before my next mid-day meeting, but it did nothing to relieve the fatigue, the sore muscles and the sorer left knee. I hope it clears up in a day or two.

    The Good: Festive atmosphere (it is weekend in Eersterus, after all!). Good marshalling. Some feed points with green cold drinks (although several didn't have any).

    The Bad: Those hills don't get any easier, even if you've done them before. The 10 km and half marathon markers were consistently in the wrong order.

    The Ugly: The battle-axe in Virgulle Steenkamp's 2:30 bus, who insisted on venting her spleen about an incident that she had not even witnessed.

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    Road Safety Run 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2018-01-06 at 06:30

    Goal: Survive. 6:00/km would be nice.

    Another two weeks of too little training and too many other things have passed. It's time for another half marathon, just to keep the total training for the week within reasonable bounds. Given December's outcome, I expected that I would be able to maintain 6:00/km, which would give me a finish in about 2:07.

    The late start meant a relatively civilised time to rise. Traffic was relatively light, and I managed to enter with about 20 minutes to spare. I chatted to Pieter and Kevin and Josias. The start was relatively quick, and I soon found myself settling into a comfortable pace. At 2 km, I was exactly on pace.

    From 3 km or so (I never saw the marker), the picture started changing. By 5 km, I was about half a minute behind schedule. Since last year's race, the route has changed significantly. No longer did we traverse the streets of Highveld Park. Instead, we turned right into Oliewenhoutbosch Avenue for an out-and-back loop of over 2 km. I saw Danie, Kevin and Josias, Pieter and Melanie pass me, giving me a good indication of how slowly I was progressing. Just after the first lap ended, I passed the 10 km mark in about 1:02—the slowest in recent memory.

    Around the 15 km mark, I started playing Hare and Tortoise with Thinus, then with Kobie. I was walking on most of the uphills, and running (or perhaps rather "shuffling") on the other bits. In the loop, I again saw the same faces I'd seen in the first lap. I was surprised, as I felt that I'd lost ground. It turned out I was not mistaken. This time, the loop went considerably further, ending in a nasty uphill all the way onto a bridge across the Gautrain tracks. I did a lot of walking, and soon found myself many minutes behind my target pace. I started playing Hare and Tortoise with Marius and his young female companion. They were also walking and running, although I could not figure out their pattern. I managed to sneak past them near the end, to finish in just under 2:22. It was my slowest half marathon ever.

    Several fellow runners reported slow times. We could not identify anything substantial to explain the catastrophe. To be sure, the late start exposed us to some high temperatures (it was 31°C when I got back to my car), but it doesn't explain the lethargy entirely. Maybe it's just the tail-end of the festive season...

    The Good: Quiet traffic. Enough cold drinks for non-addicts of caffeine, including including both green and orange!

    The Bad: Despite the new route, A4A again messed up the distance markers. Through the last 4 km or so, the 10 km and half marathon markers were consistently in the wrong order. Again.

    The Ugly: 2:22. The bruise on my ego may never heal completely.

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    2017 Races

    Wonderful Run 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2017-12-16 at 06:00

    Goal: Survive fresh enough to tackle the rest of the day.

    It's been a rough few weeks. My dormant flying career suddenly resurrected itself, and I flew around 40 hours in November. Too many commitments, too little sleep and the occasional bad weather wreaked havoc with my training programme. I've slowed down tremendously and am too scared to step onto a scale.

    The obvious solution is to tackle a half marathon and see whether there is still any life left in me. The brochure was filled with language errors, and the GPS coordinates placed the venue about 50 km away from the Bundu Inn that I know. A phone call confirmed that the place I know is the right one. So I made my way towards Brits around 05:00 with some trepidation. I had a busy day ahead, including some helicopter flying. Helicopter skills with a decade of rust and tired legs would not make a good combination, so I didn't want to be completely exhausted. I therefore resolved to try and maintain a leisurely 6:00/km pace.

    Entries were relatively easy. The start was some distance from the registration, and a smallish bunch ambled across the busy main road with assistance from marshals. The half marathon would start earlier and slightly ahead of the 10 km bunch. Making my way through the 10 km bunch, I was entertained by tall tales of horrible hills around the halfway mark in the half marathon. Apparently, there had been a profile at the registration desk. My trepidation didn't get any better.

    We finally got under way around 06:08 after an inaudible speech by a marshal, presumably trying to explain why we were starting late. I had started chatting with Mike, a 60-something American pastor from Soweto, and we kept up the chat after the start. He was aiming for a time of about 1:50, so I told him up front that I wasn't going to keep up. He lost me around the 4 km mark, by which time I'd made up about two minutes on my planned pace. We were joined by Gerrit, and had had time to exchange ideas on Christianity, theological degrees and nasty surprises one sometimes makes in self-discovery. We even got around to the fact that Mike, who travels north to run on a Saturday to leave room for his Sunday commitments, finds a stark difference in language distribution north of the Jukskei. I suspected, though, that I would later pay a terrible price for these lively debates.

    I wasn't disappointed. Even before the halfway mark, my legs were complaining loudly. I started walking occasionally. Around the 8 km mark, we hit the steep Magalies foothills, and I was more or less relegated to walking most of the way up. I passed the 10 km mark in about 0:58, feeling better than I'd feared but worse than I'd been hoping for.

    Up the hill and most of the way down, I played Hare and Tortoise with Ebrahim. Both of us alternated walking and running, and must have passed one another dozens of times. Around the 14 km mark, Iain passed me, and we had a quick chat about his missile-building career not sitting well with me as a pilot. A runner ahead of me collapsed in a heap, apparently with calf cramps. She couldn't or wouldn't say what was happening, though, so there was little we could do to help. An informal bus of about 20 runners passed me near the 16 km mark. By this time, I was completely unable to maintain my chosen pace, and spent perhaps 50% of the time walking. I finished in 2:08, about a minute slower than I'd hoped for.

    Given the rather spotty training of the past few weeks, I guess I was happy. I survived the helicopter flying later in the day, and my legs were even reasonably obedient. I will admit, though, that my eyelids were very heavy that evening, so the unaccustomed exercise did not leave me entirely unscathed.

    The Good: Surviving in reasonable shape.

    The Bad: 21 km is a long way!

    The Ugly: The Magalies.

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    Redhub Standard Triathlon (1,5 km swim, 40 km bike and 10 km run) and Duathlon (4 km run, 40 km cycle, 10 km run), Sunday 2017-10-29 at 07:15

    Goal: Figure out the logistics around triathlons.

    I've been wanting to do a triathlon for some time. I decided several months ago that I would attempt this particular triathlon. However, a particularly demanding training course and an unexpected out-of-town flight (only the second in more than a year!) limited the amount of preparation I was able to do. I did manage to do two 1000 m swims and a 10 km bike ride, plus the usual assortment of random running. My main concern was around logistics. After picking the brains of Dave and PJ, I figured I had a sufficient assortment of toys. PJ lent me a pair of cycling pants, which I've subsequently used for a few run sessions and two swim sessions. Now was the time to try out my toys. Although simple by most standards, I was hoping that my collection would suffice. I hadn't ridden a bike for more than 10 km since 2001, but how hard could it be? It's just like riding a bike...

    I arrived at Cradle Moon around 06:00. There was enough time to collect my timing chip, put all my toys in one place, scout out the swimming route and arrive at the briefing at 06:55. The event was relatively small, with probably no more than 100 entrants. I was amused by the collection of bikes. Mine was probably the oldest by a decade or more, and probably the cheapest by a factor of at least three. There were some very fancy bikes indeed. I didn't need a fancy bike. I was pretty certain that my bike's engine would be the main limitation. The biggest challenge would be the weather. It was ideal for cycling and running, but waiting for the swim to start in 11°C weather was not a lot of fun. Only about 10 participants were wearing simple swimming trunks with a bare torso, like I was.

    We started at 07:20, about five minutes late. I tried to settle into a swimming rhythm, but was soon in trouble. I was seriously short of breath. I tried to slow down and regain my breath, but was unable to. Pretty soon, I was faced with the grim realisation: I was not going to complete this swim. I stuck up my hand and was rescued by a youngster on a paddleski. He blew a whistle, and pretty soon I was on my way back to the start, perched on the Boat of Shame. Not a great end to my first triathlon!

    The marshal who recorded my number on the Roll of Defeat suggested that I might still want to do the bike ride and the run. Clearly, this was not a very formal triathlon! I accepted the offer, and made my way to the changeover area. I was one of the first on my bike, and tackled the serious uphill with gusto. Unfortunately, my front wheel was flat and was quickly getting flatter. I stopped to fix it. I pumped the wheel, trying to find out where the leak was. I could not find the leak, so I decided to continue. The wheel seemed to remain inflated throughout the rest of the ride. Perhaps the valve leaked, after I had pumped the wheel that morning.

    My second setback came about two minutes later, when I had scaled the first hill and started heading downhill. My gears would not shift out of first. Although a lot of coaxing eventually allowed me to get out of first gear, it was mostly only to second or third gear. I never got beyond fifth. Perhaps it was a good thing. There was no way I could pedal on the downhills, so at least I was able to take intermittent breaks. I was amazed by the number of cyclists on the road. All the public roads we used were open, but all had bike lanes on both shoulders, and there was never any trouble with cars on the road. I did have one or two close calls with discourteous cyclists, but in general the 500 or so cyclists I saw were all enjoying a great morning on the Muldersdrift roads.

    Towards the end, the saddle was hurting me, with very limited padding relative to the chamois that I'd been used to when I last cycled. My left knee was also complaining slightly, like it has been in recent long road races. My speed was an embarrassment, as I got nowhere near the 30 km/h reference speed that I'd used as an absolute minimum for long-distance cycling as a teenager. I finished the cycle leg in 1:45. Subtracting the downtime from the flat tyre, I'd not quite managed an average of 25 km/h. Not something I would like to admit in public!

    The run leg started very uncomfortably. My muscles were stiff and slightly tired. I soon settled into a rhythm, aiming for what would normally be a very slow pace of 7:00/km. I was hoping to speed up later if I could, but this pace would ensure that my wheels did not come off. Or so I thought. The run had not been advertised as a trail run, which it certainly was. Terrain was undulating, with the winding route traversing ditches, outcrops and even a ghost house that we passed through twice—complete with ghoulish white faces! Having started the bike leg earlier than I should have, I was way ahead of my peer group. Most of the runners effortlessly came cruising past. It soon became evident that the female triathletes are well above average in the figure stakes, although I have to admit that the haemorrhoid-like padding in cycling pants detracts somewhat from the aesthetic enjoyment. We crested the highest point around 7,5 km. At this point, a male in a fancy red triathlon suit was just ahead of me, and a female in a pink cap was just behind me. I resolved to keep them right there. By this time, my quadricepses were really hurting. I assume it was the cycling that did the damage, as I'd never had trouble with quadriceps cramping before. My left quadriceps verged on cramping for the last 3 km or so, and it was actually less painful to run than to walk. I did manage to keep the red suit in my field of view and the pink cap behind me. I passed the 10 km mark at 1:11, just one minute slower than my target pace, with the finish line coming about two minutes later.

    I crossed the timing mat in about 3:20. I declined the medal I was offered, as they did not seem to have a way of checking who had finished all three legs.

    I'm disappointed, but I did achieve my objective. I got to try out the logistics. I got to ride a bike for 40 km and survived. I got to cycle just after swimming and run just after cycling, and experienced the discomfort first hand. I'm not sure why I flaked out on the swim, but it could be that my first open-water swim in two years suffered from too fast a pace. It is always harder to judge pace when there are no marks on the bottom to go by, and I can only assume that I started too fast. Either way, I'll have to do some work on my open-water swimming before the next attempt. And I'll have to do some tweaking to my bike's gears.

    The Good: Getting to try out my triathlon toy collection for the first time. A genuine cyclist's tan on my right leg, for the first time in decades.

    The Bad: Riding the Boat of Shame.

    The Ugly: The thug in the game ranger outfit who washed his mouth on customers in the reception area. He was the sole reason several of the participants did not enjoy breakfast at the venue. And his boss, Andy Dott, who thoroughly endorses his behaviour and is obviously his role model. If you don't enjoy being verbally abused or facing head-on collisions on unmarked one-way roads, stay away from Cradle Moon!

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    CSIR 10 km Helper Race, Sunday 2017-10-22 at 07:00

    Goal: 1:00 or so.

    The small group that arrived to run the helpers' race resulted in an easy start. There was no obstruction caused by slower runners that insist on starting in the front row, although there was enough banter about the "snail scrapers". I started in front, and maintained an easy pace for the first half of the route. Around the halfway mark, Johan and I ran together for a while. Up the steep hill where I had done duty the previous day, Johan left me behind. I didn't see him again until after having crested the hill. It turned out that he'd taken a wrong turn, running a detour of about 200 m almost all the way up to the microwave tower. We continued together for most of the remaining route, sailing down the hill towards the ring road. I had some reserve left with about 2 km to go, and decided to speed up somewhat. Intimately knowing the terrain helped. I knew exactly how hard I could afford to push. As I crossed the finish line, my stopwatch rolled over to 1:00:00. Nothing to crow about in public, but perhaps given the nature of the terrain, it wasn't too bad.

    The Good: A gentle run without the clutter of thousands of other runners.

    The Bad: When last did 10 km take a full hour?

    The Ugly: That hill. It's actually worse when you run it than when you're a spectator.

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    CSIR Half Marathon, 10 km and fun run, Saturday 2017-10-21 at 06:00

    Goal: Point everyone in the right direction.

    For the second weekend in a row, I'm writing this report as an official rather than a runner. Although I am not a member of the CSIR club, I work for the organisation and regularly help with the annual race. I was placed on exactly the same position as last year, so there was little in the line of surprises. I reported to my position at 05:30. The first thing I did was a safety check. I saw several things that struck me as a little unsafe, given that several thousand people would come streaming through. I extracted a pole that once supported a road sign from the ground, moved a banner to a safer position, picked up a few dozen boulders and repositioned the boom that had been removed from the gate to a safer position in the bush. I also positioned my car to make it less likely that anyone would miss the turn at my position.

    My station was just after perhaps the steepest portion of the route, around the 5,5 km mark. Runners would definitely arrive at my position feeling rather sorry for themselves. To make matters worse, I had to gesture them into a turn that took them into a dirt road with almost the same upslope as the preceding section. Many runners would not be happy.

    So I decided to continue my approach of the previous year. I would make light of it, and cheer the runners up by telling them that the worst of the level section was almost behind them. As I had the previous year, I received mixed responses. Some runners did not respond at all. Some grinned. Others took a few seconds to respond, as if realising too late that I was yanking their chains. A few looked genuinely distressed. Most, though, seemed to enjoy the quip.

    As always, it was fun to see the entire field pass. The leaders were running up the hill with effortless speed. Then started a steadily-increasing trickle of runners, culminating in a mad rush with hundreds of runners simultaneously surging up the hill. Many familiar faces passed. I made a special effort to chirp each of those familiar faces. Eventually, the bunch faded to a mere trickle. By about 07:30, the last valiant runners were walking past in ones and twos. Most were cheerful, but it was clear that not a lot of fun was being had here at the back end of the bunch. Soon after, Jonathan came past and gave me the all-clear to leave. After spending about a quarter of an hour picking up stray water sachets and other rubbish and rolling up the tape used to form the runners' lane, I was on my way to meet other commitments later in the day, and took a last look at the runners still on the 21 km route outside the CSIR campus. They all seemed to be cruising comfortably, having conquered the CSIR hill and now traversing the relatively level terrain in Brummeria, outside the gates.

    From my limited perspective, it seemed that the race worked well. I heard rumours that the metro police had not arrived as expected, making life difficult for marshals on public roads, but the luxury of running most of the race in the CSIR premises made the problem manageable. I certainly didn't see any evidence of unhappy runners.

    The Good: Another opportunity to see thousands of runners surging past.

    The Bad: One of the club members who caused some unpleasantness in the late stages, driving through with his vehicle.

    The Ugly: That hill. Even as a spectator it was daunting!

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    Jacaranda City Classic Marathon, Half Marathon, 10 km and fun run, Saturday 2017-10-14 at 05:45

    Goal: Don't get run over.

    This race report is different to the others. I wasn't a runner. Well, technically I'm not really a runner in any of the other races, either. Nevertheless, I normally dutifully don my running gear and report to the start line to desperately shuffle towards the finish line with other real runners. This time, I didn't. My club, Agape Athletics Club, presents this race, and I had to help. This year, I was in the parking team. It was a nice break, after several years of being the route captain on the half marathon and marathon routes. That job involved managing a team of several dozen marshals, starting before 04:00 and ending after mid-day. This time, I was a parking attendant, and was scheduled to leave around 06:30. What a pleasure!

    In a previous race report, I explained that I had already run the helpers' race, and that this race would be a League race. As you can imagine, it was going to be big.

    I reported to Magnolia Dell at 04:00 to receive final instructions and equipment. The instructions handed out by email were exceptionally clear, and I didn't need any equipment, so a few minutes later I was at my post with my high-visibility jacket and my best reflective strips, holding an electric torch and ready for action. Unfortunately, I had nothing to do until 05:30. I initially thought I'd use the spare hour to do some running, as I had been very lazy the past week. However, I wasn't keen to leave my car in a deserted spot. I took a drive around the area, but the one garage was already congested, one was deserted due to a refurbishment and the other had treatening signs that said that my wheels would be clamped if I parked there. Not relishing the prospect of getting trapped far from my assigned spot, I decided to sit tight and wait. John Milton would have been proud of me.

    Stephan and I stood around, watching the vehicle traffic gradually increase. Even before sunrise, there was a constant stream of arriving cars and even some runners, all making their way towards the start venue at the SABS Headquarters. Wispy clouds were sailing past in front of a half moon, and there was a decided nip in the air. Perfect running weather! A handful of chickens appeared from a yard and started scratching on the sidewalk. The number grew gradually, until there were perhaps ten of them doing their thing by the roadside. I didn't know if they were expecting what happened next.

    At 05:30, we closed Sibelius Street and started redirecting vehicles. Two traffic policemen had been stationed at the intersection, but it was clear that they had no idea what to expect. I thought I did, so I briefed them. The half and full marathon runners would start at 05:45, run up Dr Lategan and turn right towards us, reaching us within minutes. Then the bunch would grow and grow for about a quarter of an hour, then wane and wane, until the street was peaceful again. Then we would go home, leaving the traffic police to deal with the second lap's runners starting an hour or so later. The 10 km runners would start around 06:15, but their route would not pass our position. Or so I had been told.

    Turns out I didn't actually know what to expect either. For starters, it was a full ten minutes before the pace car appeared in Sibelius Street. It seems that the runners had taken a loop around the steep streets of Muckleneuk before bearing down on us. I later discovered that we were near the 3 km mark. For the next half hour, the bunch grew and grew. As I've reported on previous occasions, I was amazed at how long it took before my peer group started appearing. Unfortunately, the race numbers are coloured grue (something between green and blue), so it was actually impossible to distinguish between half and full marathon runners. However, the real surprise came around 06:25. I had already agreed that Stephan could go on his merry way. The bunch was already starting to thin out. Our job was almost done. Imagine my surprise when the 10 km pace care came lurching down the hill, followed by a pack of sinewy athletes that seemed to be in a mad rush. They shot past, and I noticed their black race numbers. Clearly, the bunch was about to start growing again!

    And so it was. For the next half hour or so, the bunch grew again, at one point filling up the entire width of the streets into and out of the intersection. I heard rumours that there were over 7000 pre-entries, suggesting a total field of about 10 000. It is amazing to stand by the roadside and see a continuous stream of 10 km people passing. It is absolutely heart-warming to see so many people prepared to drag themselves out of bed long before dawn and work up a sweat to get the juices flowing. Despite the impressions to the contrary, we are not a nation of couch potatoes after all!

    The surprises were not over yet. Around 06:40, red numbers started appearing in the field. It appeared that the 5 km fun run was also going to pass our position. The first wave consisted mostly of scrawny teenagers in a mad rush. After them, things started looking very different. I have long believed that 5 km races and diet cooldrinks make you fat. Today's observations did not dispel the impression.

    When the wave of red numbers finally petered out, I excused myself and found my way to the start and finish venue. I was hoping to collect my fancy T-shirt. Unfortunately, it was not to be. When I parked my car and started walking towards the venue, a patrol car with fancy lights pulled up. Kobus, the race director, asked me what I was doing. I answered that I was idly ambling about, and he asked me to help at another intersection, where they were short-staffed. I soon made my way to the intersection of Florence Ribeiro and Mackey, where the 5 and 10 km runners would cross the dense traffic on Florence Ribeiro about 1 km from the finish. I arrived there with Kevin, who had ridden the lead bike for the 5 km race. We formed a chain of four marshals with flags, allowing the traffic police to stop the cars while we directed the runners around the cars. It worked fairly well, and with the exception of a few runners that were apparently hard of hearing, we managed to allow all the runners to cross the dense traffic without disrupting their pace. Eventually, as the traffic grew denser and denser, the bunch started thinning out to the point where runners were arriving in ones and twos, and Kevin and then I left the two original marshals and the traffic police to wait for the tail end.

    Being a marshal can be soul-destroyingly boring, or a lot of fun. It all depends if you make use of the amazing opportunities for observing human behaviour or not. I quipped many runners with remarks about there being only 5 km to go. Most of them flinched, then laughed. They knew full well that they were in the final stretch. If they didn't feel their entire bodies crying out for a break, they would probably have entered the half or full marathons! I also made an interesting experiment. I planted my flag to my right as I faced the oncoming runners, to try and make it clear that the runners had to turn right and pass me on the other side. By moving the flag only 300 mm, I could change the number of runners ducking past on the wrong side from about 20% to absolutely zero. It is actually possible to coax hordes of people into orderly behaviour with the necessary signals. Our chain of marshals developed concise but clear instructions for oncoming runners. "Keep right, then cross behind the minibus" seemed to invite virtually total compliance. Yet, for as long as I stood there, the marshal to my left must have repeated the mantra "People just won't listen!" at least once a minute. We certainly don't change our perceptions lightly!

    My timing was perfect. On the way home, I stopped for my favourite breakfast buffet and managed to get home before 09:00 to catch up on some sleep. Now if only I can convince myself to get some exercise today, it won't be a total waste!

    Just as an aside: You'll notice that this report is a perfect example of Parkinson's law. It is unusually long, despite the fact that I didn't do any running at all. As you can imagine, I feel like a worthy bureaucrat, with my mid-life crisis perfectly under control.

    The Good: An amazing opportunity to see perhaps 10 000 runners surging past. Very clear instructions from my boss.

    The Bad: Confusion about what was going to pass our duty point and when.

    The Ugly: Getting up at 03:20. Really!?

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    Capital Classic Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2017-10-07 at 06:00

    Goal: 21,1 km in 2:00 or so.

    This race has two special characteristics. One is that it is Agape Athletics Club's annual half marathon championship. The other is that the sponsors celebrate their Scottish heritage by encouraging runners and marshals to wear kilts. Anyone completing the half marathon in a kilt wins a Chamberlains gift voucher. It's almost like being a pro runner.

    Were it not for these two factors, I might well have stayed in bed. When I woke up, it was drizzling lightly and rather cold. Traffic was much lighter than we're accustomed to, so clearly not everyone had had enough resolve. Parking was also much easier to find than in previous years. Despite arriving rather late, I had only about two blocks to walk. Entries were painless, except that I had trouble finding a working pen. I left my jacket at the Club tent and spent about ten minutes standing in the drizzle with a relatively small field.

    I don't believe in over-ambitious goals. It's hard enough to maintain a buoyant demeanour in these trying times, and I do not want to set myself up for failure by choosing unattainable goals. So I was simply hoping to make it into the Top 20, in my age group, in my club. Last year I was going great guns until cramps stopped me in my tracks around the 17 km mark. Instead of breaking 1:50 as I had hoped, I limped home in just under two hours. This year, I was not as well prepared as last year, and decided to simply maintain a comfortable 6:00/km pace and accellerate towards the end, if I could. I was also secretly hoping that PJ's Secret Horse Endurance Salt Mix would help to stave off the cramps. If not, enduring the taste of PJ's SHESM would be a cruel diversion. I cannot imagine how horses, who do not understand the supposed benefit of the SHESM, can endure that taste willingly.

    We were walked from the initial start to the real start line by a pipe band. Perhaps it is not all a bad thing. Perhaps the pain helps to focus one's mind. The route starts with a serious climb, so focus is soon needed. We arrived at the 1 km mark about a minute behind my planned pace. I tried to gradually whittle away at this deficit. It wasn't too hard, as we descended into the valley towards the Innovation Hub. Climbing back up Meiring Naude Drive past the CSIR, though, was a different matter. Nevertheless, I arrived at the bridge over the River N1 just slightly ahead of schedule. With the undulating terrain, I saw several faces come and go, as we jostled for position with the varying pace. Ken N and Brian were two faces that I saw repeatedly. The last stretch to the finish line is a gradual downhill, and just after the 10 km runners turned right into the finish venue, I passed the 10 km mark in about 0:58.

    I asked many runners which clan their tartan was from. I got many answers, some sensible. It was inevitable that I would also be asked. My stock answer was MakLeeu, although I explained that my mother's side of the family was actually MakLammetjie. I did notice a marshal by the name of MacFadyen. Not sure why he wasn't sporting the compulsory kilt, though.

    The second lap was pretty much a repetition of the first, with an extra loop to make up the distance. I kept seeing Wayne ahead of me, just out of reach. Around the 16 km mark, Roco came up from behind. We spent some time catching up on news. Although about ten years my senior, he comfortably maintained the pace despite not being in regular training. I sometimes walked up steep hills, and often overtook him again when he stopped to chat to acquaintances. Roco thinks that it is his thirtieth Capital City Classic in a row.

    Around the 17 km mark, Mari came cruising past. I was not going to take this affront lying down. I kept seeing her up ahead, and resolved to try and catch her on the downhill to the finish. It took some doing, but I managed to pass her with about 1 km to go. Gritting my teeth, I managed to maintain the pace all the way to the finish line, finishing just ahead of both Mari and Roco.

    I collected my gift voucher and found my way to the club tent. There wasn't much beside water, and Wanja and I found our way back to our cars after a short break.

    Did I make it into the Top Twenty, in my age group, in my club? Time will tell. I did see Fritz in the loop on the second lap, about five minutes ahead of me, so I can safely assume that he beat me. I saw Paul at the start, and never saw him again, so I assume that he beat me. Let's see. Maybe I'll get lucky.

    Running a half marathon in a kilt is an enriching experience. There is no way that one could possibly understand the fearless confidence of a man like William Wallace if one hasn't. Although it wasn't my first time, I realised yet again that it is not a coincidence that the Scots keep talking about leaving the UK. The annual gift voucher doesn't hurt, either. In fact, one of these days I'm going to rake them together in a neat pile and actually go and spend them.

    The Good: Relatively easy parking. Good marshalling.

    The Bad: Waiting for the start in the drizzling rain. Climbing those hills, repeatedly.

    The Ugly: A pipe band and dozens of brutes in fancy skirts. I am an old-fashioned type, you know.

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    Clover Irene Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2017-09-30 at 06:00

    Goal: 21,1 km in 2:00 or so.

    Traffic turned nasty about 1 km from the start venue at Irene Village Mall. I was sitting almost still for several minutes before crossing the R21, wondering if I would get there in time. However, I found parking not too far from the centre with about 15 minutes to spare. After struggling with recalcitrant pens to fill in the entry slip, I found my way into the middle of the start bunch with about five minutes to go.

    The start was slow, with a very dense bunch on a relatively narrow road. I arrived at the 1 km mark more than a minute behind schedule. The bunch started spreading out soon afterwards, and I was able to find my comfortable pace. I came across Dave, and spent about five minutes exchanging news. I always enjoy his company, but it was clear that I was enticing him into a slightly uncomfortable pace, so I eventually succumbed and left him behind. I spent a few minutes running with Beate, who was winding down for a marathon and taking it easy. Perhaps around 7 km, I found a bunch of Agape runners, and spent a few minutes chatting to Wanja before leaving them behind too. I hit the 10 km mark around 59 minutes, nicely on track.

    One source of frustration was the nourishment being offered at the water points. Apart from water, there was only iced tea, made by the sponsors. I would hardly rate iced tea as a universally-acceptable drink, and its caffeine content ruled it out from my point of view. I really, really would have appreciated something but water to drink with more than two hours out in the sunshine!

    At this point, the distance markers started falling apart. I was impressed with the markers themselves. Each distance marker was clearly visible on a Garbie bin. However, their positioning became rather suspect. From 10 km, my splits for the next few km varied between 2:50 and 7:30, while maintaining even pace. I took a while to understand what was happening, and initially had the impression that I was lagging way behind my planned pace. However, from about 15 km the markings became more regular, and it appeared that I was just slightly behind my goal pace. I spent several km running with Wayne, while he was consistently moving along and I was taking an occasional walk break before catching up with him again. Around the 18 km mark, I sped up. I had 3 km to go and 15 minutes to do it in—not easy, but not impossible due to the slight downhill grade. In the event, I wasn't able to keep up the pace. I had to take one last walk break at the short climb into the shopping centre, and ended up missing the two hour mark by six seconds.

    I was reasonably happy. I guess 2:00:06 is close enough to two hours for government work?

    The Good: Relatively easy parking. Light traffic. Flattish route. Good marshalling.

    The Bad: Congested start.

    The Ugly: Iced tea. Please!?

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    Jacaranda City Challenge Helper Race 10 km, Monday 2017-09-25 at 07:00

    Goal: 10 km in under 56:00 to earn five League points.

    On most races, the helpers' race takes place after the race, often the following day. For our club's Jacaranda City Challenge, this year it was different. The race takes place in late October, but our helpers' race was organised for Heritage Day, several weeks before the actual race.

    As I had been unavailable for Saturday's race due to other commitments, I was relatively fresh. As this race is a League race this year, I was planning to comfortably break 56:00 for five points. The six-point cutoff for my age group, 50:15, was probably just out of reach.

    I arrived at the SABS a few seconds late, just in time to see the bunch of red-clad runners disappearing up the street. I quickly parked my car and set off in hot pursuit. I didn't know the new route, so I could not afford to let the runners out of my sight. The route starts with an immediate climb onto Lukasrand. It then meanders through the steep part of Muckleneuk before descending into Magnolia Dell and finding its way down the Apies River into Clydesdale. After a gradual climb up Park Street, we found the halfway water point at the University of Pretoria campus. Another gradual climb up Lynnwood Road found us in the leafy streets of Brooklyn, then past the Bird Sanctuary and up the hill to return to the SABS.

    The run was pleasant, with mostly familiar faces. This early on a public holiday, traffic was light. With a small bunch that would not cause significant traffic disruption, the lack of marshalls did not present a problem. I'm not sure if it was the relatively quick start, but I was soon struggling. Even before tackling the downhill into Magnolia Dell, I was rather sorry for myself. As I worked my way up the field, I soon realised that my target might not come as comfortably as I had anticipated. Just before the halfway mark, I joined a group with Pierre and Kobus and a few strangers, and we doggedly worked at not losing sight of the runners in front of us.

    The finish came not a moment too soon. I was almost two minutes outside my target, and thoroughly tired. I hope this malaise does not continue too much longer!

    The Good: Light traffic. Good company.

    The Bad: Still struggling.

    The Ugly: Not making what I considered a relatively easy target.

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    Brooklyn Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2017-09-16 at 06:00

    Goal: 21,1 km at 6:00/km or so.

    This race used to be the Andrew Greyling Memorial, and normally attracts a large field. It takes place near Brooklyn Centre, through affluent suburbs with leafy lanes. I have been slacking the last few weeks, feeling a little under the weather and not up to the rigours of a full-on training programme. Nevertheless, I decided to tackle the half marathon, taking it easy enough to be ready for other commitments at mid-day.

    Louw and I have been talking regularly, mostly about gliding, but I was pleasantly surprised when he decided to join me at the race. Domestic pressure eventually caused him to opt for the 10 km instead, but if he was prepared to take it easy enough, we could run the first lap together, leaving me to complete the second lap while he headed home.

    Parking was easy, using the normal shopping centre parking garage. I probably had less than 50 m to walk to the entry table, and within five minutes I was ambling along to the start sporting my race number. I found Louw relatively easily in the bunch. We started about halfway down the bunch. The bunch was dense and required some deft weaving. I didn't see a distance marker before 3 km (although some reported seeing a 2 km marker), and by that time we'd given up only about 90 s to the planned schedule. We maintained a comfortable pace, chatting to each other and to various other runners. Ken passed us several times, each time claiming that he was going to tell his wife that he'd managed to pass me. How magnanimous. Especially since he shot past around the 9 km mark and disappeared in the distance, towards the finish line.

    Louw finished in under 0:59, and I continued with the second lap. I managed to maintain a similar pace, despite having to adopt a walk-run strategy to prevent collapsing in a heap. A nice feature of the race is the substantial downhill in the last km or two. I made good use of it to finish in about 2:04. Although I was a bit slower than normal, I noticed most of my peers finishing after me: Mandy, Wallie, Laurens, Ken H and Walter spring to mind. For some reason, the route produced relatively slow times. I spotted Gina walking by the roadside at least 5 km from the venue, and offered her a ride. She was grateful, apparently not relishing thought of a walk all the way home.

    I made up about five minutes relative to my planned pace, and was reasonably fresh at the finish, so at least I'm not entirely dead yet. Hopefully I can pick up the pace a bit in the next few weeks!

    The Good: Good marshalling and organisation. Easy parking. Pleasant surroundings. Enough drinks, including green stuff. Chatting with Louw, especially since he was prepared to slow down enough, just this once...

    The Bad: The pace was relatively slow and I'm still not back to my old self.

    The Ugly: Old age is not for sissies.

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    Spirit of Flight 10 km, Saturday 2017-09-02 at 06:30

    Goal: 10 km in 0:49 or so.

    This race traditionally acts as our Club 10 km championships. As if that isn't enough incentive, it is also free of traffic and on a relatively flat course, providing ample opportunity for fast times. The race takes place at historic Swartkop Air Force Base, using the relatively flat terrain around the runway to good effect. Last year, I did my first post-plastic-knee sub-50 race, and was hoping to repeat my feat this year. My long session on the previous Saturday did not bode well, requiring almost six minutes more to complete the 11 km than I had planned. The unavailability of Hillcrest swimming pool has hampered my cross-training for the past few months, and the effects were starting to show. Nevertheless, I dutifully tapered this week, with relatively easy sessions on Tuesday and Thursday.

    Parking was easy, and I managed to warm up in relaxed style before lining up at the start. I was able to maintain a constant 5:00/km from the start, arriving at the halfway mark at 25:00, exactly on schedule. The race route has been re-routed since last year, meandering up and down the runway and the main taxiway. The plan was to start speeding up with about 3 km to go. Unfortunately, I had started to run out of steam even before that point, and I had a hard time even maintaining the original 5:00/km pace. In the end, I finished around 51:20, more than two minutes slower than last year. Although I'm very disappointed, I did not notice that my main age-group competitors from last year in the field. I might yet get lucky. Even if I do, though, the victory will be somewhat tempered by the fact that Erika sailed past me about 2 km before the finish, beating me comfortably and taking the club 50+ female title in the process.

    The Swartkop runway is by no means flat. I have made several hundred landings in various aircraft, from ultralight Jabirus to large jets, on this runway. In other times, I spent about a year of my life in the control tower watching others do the same. I am therefore well aware that the northern end slopes up significantly. However, I was rather surprised to learn that the other end of the runway also features a significant slope. Maybe it has developed since last year...

    The Good: Easy parking. Relatively flat route. No traffic. Ample green cold drinks.

    The Bad: Not much.

    The Ugly: Two minutes!

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    Roman's Pizza 15 km, Saturday 2017-08-19 at 07:00

    Goal: 15 km in 1:22 to gain five League points for my club.

    15 km is a rather unusual distance. I had to look up the cutoffs for League points. My goal was 1:22:45 for five points and 1:15 for six. The latter would require sub-5:00/km, which was probably doable but would leave me in a heap of quivering jelly and remove me from my training programme for a week or two. So I elected to aim for the rather more sedate 5:30/km pace required for five points.

    Parking at Pretoria Boys' High was relatively easy, and we lined up at the start around 06:50. It was icy cold. My car's thermometer showed 3,5°C when I left home, and around 8°C at the venue. I was pleasantly surprised to bump into Olga, whom I hadn't seen in several years. She'd told me that she would be coming and I agreed to run back along the route to meet her after my finish, but she'd advised me the previous day that she was unwell and would not be making the trip across the Boerewors Curtain.

    The start flowed reasonably well, with a gentle uphill grade meandering through leafy Brooklyn. The route was different to my last Marcel Van't Slot, as we made our way down to the Apies River and back up to the school only once. We spent some time in eastern Sunnyside too, before returning to repeat our meander through Brooklyn and coast down to the finish.

    Laurens was still suffering from a calf injury, and wanted to aim for about 1:30. I left him behind in Brooklyn. Paul came into view around the 4 km mark, always in view but just out of reach. Around the halfway mark, at the lowest point on the banks of the Apies River, I finally caught and passed him. It was just temporary, though, as he maintained his run on the uphill back to the school while I intermittently walked. Around the 10 km mark, he passed me again. Around 12 km, he disappeared from view. I tried my best to catch up, but could not do so without inflicting grievious harm on myself. I finished in about 1:20, and Paul was in the pen about ten runners ahead of me.

    After receiving my medal and a welcome drink, I made my way back along the route to find Olga. On the way, I passed Erna coming the other way, looking relaxed. I found Olga around the 12 km mark, indicating that she was going faster than she had anticipated. I joined her and her running mate Helen for a while, but started cramping and had to walk back to the finish via a short cut. Olga finished almost ten minutes faster than planned. We spent a few minutes catching up on old times before she tackled the return journey to the City of Gold.

    I spent a few minutes at my club tent before sailing across to the CSIR tent to wait for the last finishers. Laurens and Alet both finished according to plan. We ambled back to the cars before setting sail for home. I was pretty happy, surviving fairly comfortably and within my target time. Despite not having followed a rigorous training programme for the past months, I'm hoping that I'll be able to equal last year's run at the Spirit of Flight. We'll see. Those cramps concern me, and I haven't stumbled across a solution yet!

    The Good: Easy parking. Nice leafy suburban route. Green cold drinks.

    The Bad: Not much, really. Some claimed that the route was about 200 m short.

    The Ugly: Those cramps are becoming a recurring theme in my life.

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    Wierie Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2017-08-12 at 06:30

    Goal: Half marathon under two hours, and get away quickly.

    I had to get to Brits airport as soon as possible after 09:00. With almost an hour needed to get there and get cleaned up, it was going to be a tall order. Nevertheless, I figured that if I was able to finish well under two hours, I could still arrive at a respectable time. I arrived early to try and peddle a spare entry that I had bought. I found parking relatively close to the finish line (or so I thought), and found a buyer for my spare entry almost immediately. He was as grateful to avoid the queues as I was to recover my money. I made my way to the club tent and spent a few minute chatting with my clubmates.

    Although the Wierie race is a regular fixture on the race calendar, it was the first time to my knowledge that it was actually being run from the Wierdapark Laerskool. This year is their fortieth anniversary. I felt really old, as I can distinctly remember when Wierda Park was being laid out, with the first starter homes appearing in the open fields.

    I found Laurens at the start, and we set off together. The start was busy, but flowed well almost immediately. The first 2 km or so consisted of a gradual downhill grade; it didn't bode well for the remainder of the race. I chatted with Laurens, Iain, Ken H and a few others that I recognised, maintaining what I thought was a comfortable pace. Unfortunately, the distance markers I was relying on were nowhere to be seen, so I had no idea of how I was actually doing. I also had a slight niggle in my right Achilles tendon, an after-effect of my injury from a few weeks ago. Around 30 minutes into the race, an estimated 6 km from the start, I decided that trying to run the half marathon with no pacing information was too risky. I decided instead to run hard and bail out at the 10 km mark. I sped up considerably, hoping for a finish well under an hour. I passed several clubmates, including Ken N and Lammie, plus Melanie and Ally towards the end. I could have felt almost like a real athlete, had it not been for the fact that I knew that most of them would continue with the second lap. I arrived at the finish line relatively fresh in about 53:30. I collected the goodie bag and some green drinks before finding my way back to the car, well under an hour after the start. I even made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare!

    The Good: Easy parking. Reasonably level terrain. Green cold drinks (albeit of the unbranded variety).

    The Bad: No distance markers! And the resulting shorter distance. I heard later that some runners noticed some distance markers spray-painted on the road surface, but I noticed none of them, despite looking intently throughout the route.

    The Ugly: The fact that school kids and staffers called some of the runners "Sir". But not me.

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    Castle Walk 10 km, Wednesday 2017-08-09 at 07:00

    Goal: 10 km in under an hour.

    You may wonder about the modest target. You clearly haven't seen the terrain, then.

    From the start at Castle Walk, there is a climb of about 50 m in the first km or so, then a drop of about 140 m to the half-way mark. In the next 3 km or so, there is another climb of about 130 m. The next 1,5 km or so offers a respite with a drop of about 70 m, with a gentle 30 m climb in the last km or so.

    Very little else needs to be said. Parking was easy, entries were easy (although a misguided official pointed me to the wrong table), and the start was not awfully congested. Even better, last year's crazy entry fee has been reduced to a more palatable level. On a personal note, I've been nursing a bruised Achilles tendon for a week, so I had to be a little careful not to overdo things.

    I started about a quarter down the bunch, and was immediately able to run as fast I wanted to. Which wasn't all that fast, given the topography. I saw Wallie and Wanja ahead of me, and took more than 1 km to catch up with them. Conversation became a little easier when the first downhill started. The distance markers were not all that great, which I figured out from the fact that it took less than four minutes to cover the third km. I also met Paul, Iain and James on the way down, the latter speeding past like a steam train.

    I hit the half-way mark near Garsfontein Road around 29 minutes. With almost 100 m to climb in the second half, breaking an hour was going to be hard work. The odd concrete section didn't help. I am clearly allergic to concrete—whenever I'm on a concrete road, I find myself unable to run. Although I managed to maintain a respectable pace, I was never certain that I would be able to make my target, with the 6 km marker missing and with only about 300 m between the 8 and 9 km marks.

    We soon encountered the 5 km walkers, and the road became quite crowded. I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived at the line with more than a minute to spare.

    We all received goodie bags at the finish line, and they offered complementary aQuelle bottled water and cold sports drinks at the finish. I bumped into Wallie and Wanja, who finished just behind me. Wallie had taken a tumble on some uneven terrain and drawn some blood. I also chatted to Danie and Melanie afterwards. They seemed none the worse for wear, as always. After Alet arrived, we drove out in dense traffic. We managed to avoid the worst jam near the Castle Walk centre, and soon found ourselves on the way home. All things considered, the race proved a very pleasant outing.

    The Good: Easy parking and entries. A more reasonable entry fee than last year. Leafy surroundings.

    The Bad: Erratic distance markers. No cold drinks on the route for anyone but Coke addicts.

    The Ugly: Pretoria is a hilly place, man.

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    Zwartkop Lapa 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2017-07-29 at 07:00

    Goal: Half marathon in 1:56 or so.

    Last week's 10 km race hasn't entirely left my legs, despite a relaxed training week. I had some trepidation about trying a relatively fast half marathon. Nevertheless, if I am ever to resume serious training, I'll have to do it some time. My task for the day was to maintain a 5:29/km average pace—not a pushover, but not out of reach either.

    I collected Alet at 06:00 and Laurens shortly after. We hit the first traffic a few hundred metres from the gate, and crawled in first gear for about 15 minutes before finding parking. The temperature was hovering around 3,5°C, cold but a lot more comfortable than last year's sub-zero temperatures! Alet had to buy a temporary licence, so by the time we made it to the start bunch, it was time for the gun to go. Go it did, before we were quite ready, so we started at the back of the bunch. Laurens and I gradually made our way through the bunch, arriving at the 1 km mark in over eight minutes. Not a great start, but not a train smash either. We gradually made up time, and the 10 km mark passed in about 58 minutes. I was going to have to turn up the speed a bit, but I was feeling good, so there was hope.

    The route has changed since last year. Instead of completing a second lap of the same route, we branched off towards Sunderland Ridge for the remainder of the route. After a long gradual climb, we turned east into Raslouw. Like last week, we entered an out-and-back loop of more than 3 km. It was fun to see the oncoming traffic. I didn't see the leaders, but I did see a fair assortment of the more serious athletes ahead and the less serious ones behind. Laurens was a few minutes behind me, looking grim. I gradually managed to wind up the speed, and by the time I passed the 18 km mark, I thought that I would actually get close to my target. My finish time was just under 1:57, not exactly what I was hoping for, but close enough given the slow start.

    We waited at the Club tent until Laurens finished, then made our way back to the car. Laurens had suffered somewhat. It seems like his stellar effort between Durban and Pietermaritzburg of eight weeks ago is still asserting itself! We queued for perhaps a quarter of an hour to make it out of the premises and the neighbourhood.

    The Good: Pretty good marshalling. Green cold drinks at every water point. New route with less interference between runners.

    The Bad: Heavy traffic, in and out.

    The Ugly: Why can't runners keep right in an out-and-back loop? Outbound and returning traffic crossed several times in the loop, and the vehicles didn't know where to go.

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    Long Walk for Freedom 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2017-07-22 at 07:00

    Goal: Earn some League points for my Club and make it to my meeting not long after 08:00.

    Ideally, I would have liked to have done the half marathon, but I had a meeting scheduled for 08:00, not far from the start at Eco Boulevard. During the week, I asked my boss for some flexibility to be a few minutes late, and decided to try and do the 10 km instead. If I was quick, I might be able to get away from the race before 08:00, get cleaned up and arrive only a few minutes late for the meeting.

    Traffic was not too bad, and I found parking not far from the start venue. Entries were another matter entirely. There was a single group of tables, with no notices except on the tables, hidden by the dense crowd. Several runners braved the crowd for a long time, only to arrive at the table and be told that they had to queue somewhere else. This club seems to have a lack of common sense at so many levels. One wonders why they get given so many races on the annual calendar.

    In my men's age group, I could earn five points by beating 56:00 or six by beating 50:15. The former was a pushover. The latter would take significant determination, especially with last week's Vasbyt still lingering in my legs. Nevertheless, it was worth a try.

    The start was on time. As I was planning to run fast this time (at least by my standards), I warmed up beforehand and started near the front. The start was uneventful, and I was running freely from the first moment. Debbie sailed past in the first km, as did Josias and Kevin a few minutes later. De Wet joined me, and we chatted for a while, partly about my un-earned 1:47 at a recent race. He was planning to do 50 minutes, so I expected that I would see a lot of him. And so it was. At the 2 km marker, we were about 15 s ahead of pace. We were about to hit the first uphills, so I was happy. I walked perhaps a dozen times, as I certainly could not sustain the pace without some respite. De Wet was able to sustain a constant pace, and we kept passing one another for most of the route. Just before the 5 km mark, we entered an out-and-back loop in a single road, so I could watch the entire field from the lead car to well behind me over the next 2,5 km or so. It was fun to see where everyone was in the field—Sonet shot past, then Kevin and Josias, and behind me I noticed Melanie and several others. The far end of the loop was also the highest point on the route, so the remaining 4 km would mostly be slightly downhill. At this point, I was almost a minute behind the pace, so I would have to make good use of the downhill to gain some speed. Fortunately, with a few interruptions, I was able to do so. De Wet was perhaps 100 m ahead of me for most of the last push. I finished just inside 50 minutes, and jogged back to my car. I was well on my way to the meeting by 08:00, and managed to sneak in a few minutes late.

    I'm pretty happy. Mission accomplished, with my first six-pointer in the bag! Given that I still had some slight niggles in my left knee from last week and did not rest as I would have for a maximum-effort race, coming in under 50 minutes is not too shabby. Despite the general malaise my training has suffered from since Comrades, it seems like the last three years of training has actually achieved something!

    The Good: Light traffic and easy parking. Green cold drinks at every water point. Not too many hitches with the traffic (although I would imagine it would have been worse had I stayed a bit later).

    The Bad: The new route is a bit drab, winding through an industrial area and then out-and-back in brown grasslands. Some km markers were facing the wrong way, where runners could not see them.

    The Ugly: The chaotic entries. This club doesn't seem to learn anything from its mistakes.

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    Afriforum Springbok Vasbyt 10 and 25 km, Saturday 2017-07-15 at 07:30

    Goal: Survive.

    I entered for this race on a casual basis, buying numbers for Laurens and myself when I happened to be near the sports shop. "Vasbyt" means something like "hang in there", so there was obviously some element of challenge. But seeing that I can run 21 km comfortably, even on hilly terrain, how hard can 25 km possibly be?

    The trouble started during the week, when my colleague Erna told me how she had been advised by her club to stay away. Tales of single-file tracks with no opportunity to pass slower runners abounded. Seeing that passing people is not a big thing in my life, I wasn't deterred by that part of the story, but the tales of horrible slopes and loose stones sounded a little disconcerting.

    Laurens didn't help. He told me that he'd done the race several times, each time vowing never to do it again. He mentioned something about a sting in the tail. I checked past results on the Web, and it wasn't a pretty picture. My peers were all at least 20 minutes slower than I would expect, indicating that the race was not going to be fast and flat. But I knew that part already—there is no flat terrain near the venue, at the Voortrekker Monument.

    The start was at a civilised time, so I collected Laurens around 06:55. We easily found parking and walked across the hill to the club tents. Just this trip involved a serious descent and a serious climb back to the start. The start bunch was relatively big, and a sense of anticipation reigned as we waited for the flypast. Sure enough, a few minutes before the scheduled start, three Harvards appeared from the south for a low formation flyby. The three planes were all painted in different liveries: One with the original SAAF springbok roundels, one with the SAAF castles and one in the characteristic chevrons of a drone tug. The sound of the two flybys reminded me strongly of flying a Goose in Alaska two years ago—a fond memory indeed. An artillery gun was fired, causing half the crowd to jump. Shell shock?

    The start was very slow. We started halfway down the bunch, and had to contend with a lot of slow starters, narrow roads and bad surfaces. The first distance marker showed "24". Aha, a countdown, a la Comrades. Given the traditional slow times, Laurens had set his fancy pacer to 7:00/km. I was hoping to do better, but not by much. With 23 km to go, the average pace was closer to 7:30/km. We started with a steep descent on rough roads into the valley north of the Monument. We then hit an uphill on the main road (R101) up to the Exxaro headquarters, turning right across the bridge to traverse the Weskoppies before returning to the Monument grounds.

    Just before re-entering the Monument grounds from the north, I passed Frances and Iain. At least starting in the middle of the bunch had one advantage—I was constantly passing people. And I suppose passing a former Comrades winner must count for something.

    The average pace had by this time increased to about 6:30/km. It looked like a finish time of 2:40 might be realistic. However, I was a little concerned as we descended all the way down into the Fountains valley, before tackling the hill back to the Monument. I remember this particular hill from my cycling days. It was the steepest hill in Pretoria, and we often used it to train for mountain climbs like the Long Tom Pass. In the Vasbyt, it was just a respite, as many of the off-road climbs were steeper than any road would ever be allowed to get. Add some loose pebbles and the odd thorn branch at eye level, and you have a lethal combination of physical and mental strain.

    On the final climb up Schanskop hill, with about 10 km to go, I noticed a fragile-looking ginger blonde in front of me. I quickly figured that someone so fragile, with such gossamer limbs, could not possibly do something that I couldn't do. I resolved to use her as a pace marker. It worked for a while. Just before we crested the hill, she disappeared from sight, never to be seen again. Sigh...

    On the hilltop is Fort Schanskop, a relic of the late nineteenth century South African Republic. We actually ran right through it. A blast from the past! As we left the Fort, we hit the 5 km mark. We were well above the finish line, so the remaining part of the route was a pushover. With 4 km to go, I could see the finish line, well below us. Home and dry! There was a repeated announcement of "10, 21 right" as we approached an intersection. I was amused to notice that it was an MP3 player. What a great solution! MP3 players don't get tired like marshals do.

    The finish wasn't quite as easy as I'd grown to expect. We dropped well below the finish line, all the way to the R101 on the north side. We then clambered up the hill towards the Monument. With about 2 km to go, I was negotiating a steep climb on loose pebbles, involving occasional use of all fours and with not a single runner actually running, when I was tripped up by a young woman running on my heels. I managed to avoid actually crashing to the ground, but it would be nice if she could learn to be a bit more considerate one day. The steepness of the terrain reminded me of climbing stairs, much more than road running. With about 1 km to go, we got to the stairs of the Monument. Believe it or not, the marshal waved us up the stairs. We climbed all the way to the top, ran around the Monument and descened down the same steps again. With just a few hundred metres to go, we entered the Amphitheatre, descending rather precariously down the steep slope before finishing on the stage. I had a strong sense of deja vu; this was the exact same spot where I finished my most illustrious sporting victory ever; an open cycle race of something like 40 km around 1980, aged 15. Hopefully, at 2:48 or so, I'll make it into the top 1000 this time...

    Now that I know the full details of this race, I have no idea how it ended up on the road racing calendar. I would estimate that less than a quarter of its distance was on roads. The rest was on footpaths with uncertain footing and extreme slopes, with dust covering everything. One fascinating aspect of the race was the distinction between different sections. There were obviously different route captains handling different sections of the route, with some being rather rough and others being very pleasant indeed. My favourite section was on the south side, from perhaps halfway up to about 7 km before the end. In this section, marshalling was superb, all nasty thorn bushes on the route were marked with warning flags, there was a stencilled springbok on a flat stone every few metres and there were regular notices enjoining runners not to litter. It actually worked; I saw almost no water sachets lying around in this section. The few that I did see, were neatly stacked in a pile next to one of the notices! It's encouraging to see that people actually have the ability to behave if they're just reminded.

    There was another interesting aspect to this race. Much was made of the remembrance of fallen soldiers in years past. Along the route were perhaps a dozen boards with the names of major battles, including Delville Wood and El Alamein. Although most of these battles were in the world wars, there were several battles in the Angolan war, in which the SADF got entangled. Seeing that both sides in those battles had South African involvement, I wasn't sure that these references would be universally appreciated...

    I've been meaning to try a trail run for some time now. I was thinking about doing a shortish one just to see if my legs were up to the task, but being tossed into this trail run unexpectedly allowed me to do my experiment rather sooner and rather more intensely than I was planning. And I guess the experiment was a success, although my left knee is more painful than it has been in many moons. I'm hopeful that I actually got away with it! Laurens was slightly less lucky. On the same stretch close to the finish where I was tripped up, Laurens crashed to the ground. Fortunately, he picked a good spot and has only a minor abrasion on his palm to show for it.

    The Good: Light traffic and easy parking.

    The Bad: No green cooldrinks.

    The Ugly: Duh.

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    Ice Breaker 10 km and Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-07-08 at 07:00

    Goal: Finish the Half Marathon, hopefully under 2:00.

    This year, the Ice Breaker wasn't icy. With temperatures hovering around 10°C, the race was positively balmy.

    Alet and I arrived about 25 minutes before the start. We easily found parking a block away, enrolled with little trouble and made our way to the start. After posing for a group photo with half a dozen CSIR runners, we started on time. The start was a little slow, passing the 1 km mark in about 7:30. The undulating terrain rolled by relatively quickly. I passed Ken H and group, and asked him at what time he was planning to do his weekly acrobatic routine. He did at least pretend to be amused.

    I gradually made up time, arriving at the 10 km mark in about 59:30. If I wanted to finish in under two hours, I would have to do the last 11,1 km in a similar time. I gradually incrased the pace, without too much strain. In a calibration loop around the 13 km mark, I noticed Melanie and then Mandy and Marie coming the other way. They must have been around 300 m ahead of me, giving me a good target to aim for. Around the 15 km mark, I had them in sight and continued to reel them in. They acted as great bait to keep the pace up. For the last few km, I didn't have this advantage, and just kept pushing. The last 2 km sailed by in under 10 minutes, allowing me to finish in just under two hours.

    I have mixed feelings about this race. If I want to achieve my new-found goal of running a half marathon in under 1:47, I'll have to find more speed. This leisurely pace isn't going to cut it, as it's barely adequate for my prescribed training long runs. Even the tempo training sessions will be an ordeal unless I get a little faster!

    The Good: Light traffic and easy parking. Good marshalling. Good refreshments, including green cooldrinks.

    The Bad: A clear indication that there's a lot of hard work remaining.

    The Ugly: Not much.

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    Run4Bibles 10 km and Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-07-01 at 07:30

    Goal: Finish the Half Marathon, hopefully under 2:00.

    Again, a start at a civilised time and no need to rise at an ungodly hour. I collected Laurens at 06:45 and we made our way to the registration and start with plenty of time to spare.

    As usual in these parts, the terrain was hilly. A downhill start made for quick dispersion of the bunch. A nice surprise in the first km was Toy, whom I hadn't seen in more than three years and who was running the 10 km race. Laurens wanted to keep his heart rate down to idle, so Toy and I gradually left him behind. We caught up on the events of the last few years, until she decided to slow down around 2,5 km. I sped up slightly, but wanted to avoid overtaxing myself. Approaching the halfway mark, I was on track for a comfortable two-hour finish.

    Just after the 9 km mark, two marshals were enthusiastically chanting, "Five and ten left, 21 straight!". I found myself wondering if a decent sign would not have been a lot less effort. I continued straight ahead for the second lap, while the shorter distance runners peeled off to the left. About five minutes later, I started looking for the 10 km marker. Instead, I found a 12 km marker. Strange—one marker must have been misplaced. No, the next marker showed 13, and the next 14. Around this time, a very agitated older female runner passed us from behind, asking what distance we had done. It was becoming apparent that we had missed a portion of the route. Indeed, all the remaining markers were consistent, showing the same remaining distance as the markers for the 10 km race. I had a slight niggle in my left knee and my left foot, so I decided that I would simply accept the 10% discount and let 19 km suffice. Many other runners around me were not so philosophical. Discussions ranged from outrage to crafty plans to add the extra 2 km that we had missed. I saw the two-hour bus taking an unmarked detour into the neighbourhood, presumably to make up the 21,1 km distance using GPS.

    Just after the 12 km mark, I saw a runner tumbling onto the ground ahead of me. It looked like a fairly heavy fall, and I saw surrounding runners stopping to help. When I got there, I noticed that it was Ken H. He had tripped on the uneven road surface. In addition to scratches all over his shoulders and limbs, he had a deep gash on his left cheek. He was trying to stem the blood flow with one of his lily-white gloves. I gave him a description of the gash, reassuring him that it was closed and not bleeding profusely. He declined an offer of help, and we both continued on the route.

    Soon afterward, I passed Alex. She seemed fairly relaxed. A stranger remarked about my "strange" style. I asked him what was strange about it. He elaborated about my unusually high cadence and the height at which my hands were being swung. Nevertheless, he opined, it seemed to work for me. Not very well, I thought, given that I was in the middle of the bunch! Nevertheless, I was gratified to hear his comments—both of his comments related to things that I had actively worked on while making my comeback after having my plastic knee installed.

    When I got to the 9 and 20 km markers, we turned left towards the finish. I noticed an 11 km marker on the opposite side of the road. It was now clear; we should have turned left after the first lap and completed a 2 km loop before rejoining the route at the same point. Those marshals were clearly not the sharpest pencils in the packet, causing havoc in a race that was otherwise fairly well organised.

    The race ended at the traditional finish venue for the Wally Hayward race. Anyone familiar with that race in years past will remember the very steep climb to the school, before the left turn into the grounds. At least we hit that hill halfway up, so instead of having to ascend all the way from the valley, we only had half a hill to climb. Just before the top, I passed our club tent. One would hope for reassurance after having conquered this major hill. Instead, all I got from Hennie was, "It's just a hill, get over it!". Hennie has obviously only read the last half of Dale Carnegie's book.

    I tried hard to get myself disqualified, but the referees were clearly not in a mood for discussion. They had their hands full with many irate runners who felt hard done by, feeling that everyone else had done a shorter distance than they had. I was the only one demanding to be disqualified because I had not done the full route. The referees were not interested in my story.

    Had I done the full distance, I would have run around 1:57, a slightly sub-standard time. The official time of 1:47, though, looks like a personal record. Given my inability to get myself disqualified, there is only one way to get rid of this blemish on my record: I'll have to beat that time fair and square.

    Perhaps I've now found a worth-while target for the next few months, more or less by accident...

    The Good: Light traffic and easy parking.

    The Bad: Limited green cooldrink.

    The Ugly: The marshals at the 9 km mark.

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    Glenfair Boulevard 10 km and Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-06-24 at 07:00

    Goal: Earn 5 points for my Club by finishing below 0:56.

    Had this race not had League status, I might well have stayed in bed. The combination of winter malaise, icy weather and the last vestiges of a serious cold conspired to leave me very lazy indeed. Nevertheless, I managed to take two runs this week, leaving me confident that I could survive 10 km in 56 minutes and earn some points for the club. Unlike anyone who ran Comrades seriously, I got off unscathed by missing out on the last tortuous 33 km, so I could probably have resumed training the day after Comrades. If I had wanted to.

    I had some misgivings about the venue. I know the area around Glenfair very well, and think as I might, I could not imagine any route that would not involve some very nasty hills. I arrived in light traffic, easily found parking and registered at the shopping centre. Two things were different from other races. I saw at least two dozen dogs on leashes, and heard at least four dozen runners comparing notes about Comrades.

    The bunch was massive, but the start was fairly quick. Within about 200 m, we routed along Lynnwood Road, leaving plenty of room for everyone to spread out. Despite the civilised start time, I had trouble reading my stopwatch at the 1 km marker, but it was well below six minutes. More or less exactly at this point, we hit the first nasty hill. The yo-yo effect continued to roughly the 8 km mark.

    I could not find Laurens in the start bunch. He sailed past me early in the race, but didn't seem to notice me. I caught up with him on the first serious uphill. We chatted briefly and compared notes. We were both feeling fine, and neither had specific plans except to break 56 minutes. Our rhythms didn't coincide, so I gradually left him behind over the next few km. Thinus kept popping up in my field of view, and we briefly chatted. It turned out that he'd gone to Comrades, but only as a supporter. He was obviously in a hurry. For the next half-hour, I kept playing hare and tortoise with him. I occasionally walked on uphills. Each time, I used him as a target to regain my pace. It worked well, and it soon became evident that I could easily reach my target. I started wondering if I could aim for six points. I hadn't seriously considered this possibility beforehand, and hadn't looked up the cutoff time. I thought it might be 51:15. Around the 8 km mark, it looked like I might just be able to make it, as the route back to Glenfair was fairly flat, possibly even slightly downhill. I resolved to try. I started leaving Thinus behind, at about the same time that I discovered that he was running the half marathon, and had another lap ahead of him. In the event, I could not maintain the required pace over the last 2 km, and ended up finishing in just over 52 minutes.

    It turns out that I was overly optimistic anyway. Consulting the lookup tables afterwards, I would have needed to break 50:15 for a six-pointer. It just wasn't within my reach this time. I didn't see Laurens at the finish, but he apparently finished about a minute behind me. Not bad for a guy who actually completed Comrades three weeks ago (although some might question the wisdom of this intense effort so soon...).

    I still haven't decided what to do over the next few months. I certainly do not want to tackle another life-consuming project like the past few months, but I do need to figure out something that I can use as motivation to drag my lazy ass onto the streets occasionally. At least this race was a start.

    The Good: Light traffic and easy parking arrangements. Good marshalling. Oh no, not another "challenging hilly route"...

    The Bad: No green cooldrink, or anything but water to drink if you don't want a caffeine fix.

    The Ugly: The li'l old lady who knocked down a runner just before the finish, apparently completely severing his foot.

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    Comrades Marathon, Sunday 2017-06-04 at 05:30

    Goal: Finish. A bronze medal would be nice.

    I quoted the Flying Dutchman when writing about the Vaal Marathon, so Iíll have to come up with a different clichť this time. Nevertheless, the moment of truth has really arrived.

    The week before Comrades was not ideal. I had business commitments outside the country, and arrived back in South Africa on Friday night. The schedule necessitated a rather cramped departure, only arriving in Durban on Saturday afternoon. I managed to get enough rest in the preceding week, completing my last training run on Thursday morning in rather relaxed fashion. The carbo-loading regime afterwards made me feel a little sluggish, but after four weeks of tapering, the chronic stiffness and fatigue had disappeared from my legs. The only abnormality was the customary slight pain in my left leg and a blister under my left big toe. My hotel was about 2 km from the conference venue, and the daily walk each way must have done me in. On Friday night, I set about working on the blister with a syringe and some fiery liquid. After draining the blister, I squirted the liquid in there and stared straight ahead for several minutes until the pain subsided.

    My training run terminated with 1003 km in the logbook. The exact distance was a homage to Mozartís Don Giovanni. Louwís model predicted that I should be able to complete the race in somewhere under 11 hours. The exact number was open to some conjecture, as I didnít have a flat-out marathon time to play with, but based on my 10 and 21 km times and my effortless finish in the Wally Hayward, I was confident that a bronze medal was within reach. Laurens was in the same boat, having a faster qualifying marathon but less training distance. Accordingly, we planned for a 10:50 finish. We were hopeful that we might be able to push a little harder in the last stretch.

    On Saturday morning, I visited my physio Hanri to be strapped up. Although I hadnít had trouble with the ITB niggles in a while, I wasnít going to take any chances. She also strapped up my left kneecap to reduce the chances of trouble. The last hour before departure was spent printing and laminating the profiles and pace tables. My sister Yolande dropped us off at Lanseria airport, and we had a plate of potato chips while waiting for check-in.

    Laurens whisked us from King Shaka airport to the guest house in Durban North. After a hearty late lunch, we spent the early evening getting our logistics ready before slipping into bed way too early for comfort. I had a continuous stream of text messages and phone calls from well-wishers. With a fancy app available for download from the Comrades Web site, it was clear that Comrades is becoming a very visible pastime. The glory—or, indeed, the humiliation—was going to be very public.

    We were up by 04:00, to have breakfast early enough to allow for digestion before the race. Eggs, bacon and yoghurt made up the breakfast, as hopefully the leg muscles were already pre-loaded to saturation with those precious carbohydrates. After a short drive, we entered our start pen at 05:08, well before the advertised cutoff. Laurens had voluntarily elected to join me in my G pen, even though he was eligible for the D bunch. In the event, it made no difference. The barriers between the pens had been removed much earlier than advertised, and runners were already pushing forward. We ended up fairly close to the back, surrounded by H runners. We had planned for a seven minute delay at the start, so it wasnít a major crisis.

    The start is always very noisy. Some guy who likes the sound of his own voice pours out a continuous stream of inane comments, occasionally interrupted by another commentator whose every comment reveals his misunderstanding of the rules and the race. Fortunately, the pain of Chariots of Fire was mitigated somewhat by a timing problem, leaving too little time for them to inflict the cacophony of Vangelisís cheap synthesiser on our refined musical ears for longer than absolutely necessary. Then came the fake cockís crow, and the starting gun. We were mostly in darkness, but up ahead we could see the sky awash with a myriad paper ribbons circulating through the air in the glare of the television floodlights. The bunch didnít start moving until after more than two minutes had elapsed. At this point, we slowly started walking forward. We were near the right edge, and soon noticed that the left side was progressing better than we were. In fact, at one point we were in the very last row! We elected to sail up the left side of the bunch, and eventually crossed the start line with 08:20 showing on the stopwatch. On the right, there was still a bunch of more than 100 m behind us. Some of them would not cross the start line until more than ten minutes had elapsed. We were still moving relatively slowly, but we were not in a hurry. 87 km lay ahead, and any tendency to hurry now would cost us dearly later.

    The first hour sailed by very comfortably. Laurens kept complaining of tired legs—not a good sign. The first stretch of road consists of illuminated urban streets and highway. After 06:00, the glowing dawn started showing its face. Most runners seemed completely relaxed, with only the occasional crusader sailing past in misguided haste. Several buses were seen. A female runner squatted on the embankment, obviously having consumed more liquid than she should have. Like Maslow told us, modesty takes a back seat to baser functions. After about an hour, the 11:30 bus was still ahead of us, even though we were exactly on schedule for our planned 11:00 finish. Perhaps they were being a little too boisterous?

    In Comrades, unlike any other race I have run, the distance markers count down. Seeing an 86 km marker soon after the start is a little disheartening, to say the least. I have to watch the time carefully to maintain my feeding schedule, as the hours roll by unnoticed. At the top of Cowieís Hill, with the first of the Big Five named hills behind us, everything is still on schedule, and I am feeling very comfortable and relaxed. I am relieved to note that my blister is not causing undue discomfort. I feel it, but it does not noticeably hamper my progress.

    Near the top of Cowie's, a runner rushes up an embankment to meet his female supporter. He meets her at speed, crashing to the ground on top of her in a tight embrace. Hundreds of runners laugh boisterously. Someone behind me cries, "Teach me, oh Master!".

    We are surrounded mostly by G and H runners, with just a handful of higher seedings to be seen. In this part of the bunch, there is no shame in walking up the steep hills. It is therefore no surprise that most of us walk up Fields Hill, with only a few brave individuals running. At the top of Fields Hill, we are perhaps two minutes ahead of planning, and I still feel relatively fresh.

    A cheering crowd lines the road most of the way. It takes a while to get used to all the people calling my name. After initially feeling like a celebrity, I soon realise that my race number gives my name away, and the ongoing cheers become routine.

    57 km to go. At the Winston Park cutoff, my colleague Preia waits on the left, handing me something to nibble on. I almost miss her, as the cry of "Chris" doesnít really indicate a friend any more. We briefly talk about the next stop before I continue. Laurens is slightly behind me, but he is taller than most and I had briefed him carefully to look for the Gorgeous Babe on the Left, so I am hopeful that they will find one another. Preiaís dad is aiming for a similar time to us, so I am surprised to learn that he passed her over a quarter of an hour ago.

    The "halfway" mark at Drummond is in fact not quite halfway yet. On the descent into Drummond, it is daunting to note that we have already covered a full marathon, with more than a full marathon to come. I notice Hennie and Marix on the right with a huge camera. My left knee is slightly sore, but probably no worse than usual. More worrying, though, is the slight hint of a cramp starting to manifest in my left calf. I take some salt and try to stretch my calf muscles on the run, with limited success. The crowd infringes on the route near the halfway mark, leaving only about a 3 m wide lane for the dense field to run in. A misguided spectator coming up this narrow lane crashes into me. Fortunately, I retain my balance and stride.

    A candidate for a fourth green number and his entourage run with me for a while. The young girls in the group seem to be part-time minibus drivers, weaving to and fro in a reckless manner and making it very difficult to run behind them. They keep warning runners behind them about the cat-eyes. I keep warning runners behind me about them.

    As we tackle Inchanga, and the real halfway mark comes up, conversation has dried up completely. An American asks about the name of the hill weíre on. I tell him that itís just another random unnamed hill, and that we would soon hit Inchanga. I can see that heís impressed. When I tell him a few minutes later that he is almost at the top of Inchanga, he is jubilant. I think I made his day.

    Preia was going to meet me somewhere around Inchanga. She is nowhere to be seen. I canít find my Rehydrat in my clothing, and take more salt from a bystander. The raw salt without water is not exactly pleasant.

    36 km to go. With less than half the distance and less than a marathon ahead, we have already climbed over 750 m from sea level and conquered four of the five major hills. The remainder of the route is undulating, with the highest point no more than 70 m higher than where we are now. It looks like this year is going to be my year. I can almost smell that elusive medal now. Laurens tells me that TA and Alet are waiting after Cato Ridge, just after a yellow truck. After giving up hope, I see Preia and her mom on the left. Laurens is just ahead, and again didnít make contact. She hands me my sports drink and some electrolyte. I report the bad cramping. I canít respond sensibly to her question about what I would like at the next meeting, somewhere around Camperdown. I guess a respirator and a bed wouldn't count as valid answers.

    35 km to go. The cramping has now spread into my hamstrings. I stop at a physio station. A young physiotherapist instructs me to stretch while softly massaging my calves. I ask her to treat it a little more vigorously. She seems very young and very tentative, so eventually I proceed on my way with very little relief, frustrated.

    34 km to go. I see a Hillcrest Villagers tent with some chairs. I ask them if I can sit down. I sit for about eight minutes, stretching my calves as much as possible. I eventually take to the road again, managing a respectable jog for some distance. Hope flares up. With about five hours left to the finish, I can do this. Under normal circumstances, 34 km would take about three hours. All hope for a bronze medal is gone, but with a combination of walking and jogging, and enough grit, I should be able to do it relatively easily. I watch the passing rescue buses with mixed feelings.

    33 km to go. After a walk break, I start running gently again. Suddenly, my left calf contracts in a violent cramp. It feels like a cannon shot. The intensity and the suddenness both catch me by surprise, and I tumble headlong onto the tarmac. Two runners stop to help. I try to get them to flex my foot and stretch my calf muscle, but they seem to do exactly the opposite. The resulting pain is quite debilitating. Eventually, they do the right thing, and they continue on their way. I get up gingerly, but it is clear that there will be no further running today. I see Raynold ambling by, near one of the twelve-hour buses. I guess a passing twelve-hour bus is a bad sign, this late in the race.

    The first five Buses of Shame are full. They all shout that there is another one just behind them. There isnít. Eventually, an unmarked minibus offers me a ride. It is a staff bus of sorts, but they have about five broken athletes on board. At least the mood isnít as sombre as it is in an official Bus of Shame. I phone Alet and TA. They are still waiting at Camperdown. They havenít seen Laurens. I tell them that he would be past them by now, but that I would try to join them where they are. Eventually, my bus passes the point where I think they are. Another runner is using my phone to phone his wife, and I eventually get off the bus without knowing exactly where. Perhaps my mental acuity isnít all I thought it is, as I find myself searching for Aletís green boutique truck rather than Laurensís limo. It turns out my guess wasnít all that far off, and I find Laurensís car in the parking lot.

    We start making our way to the finish. The traffic on the N3 crawls in first gear. The first 6 km stretch takes more than 45 minutes, at just about exactly the same pace as the runners by the roadside! We continue to see runners off in the distance, as the two routes cross several times. We eventually make it into Pietermaritzburg. Traffic is fierce, and the road we were aiming for is closed. A traffic cop tells us to turn right at the Shell garage to get to the finish. There is no right turn at the Shell garage. We explore several options. Eventually, we find another Shell garage, with a real right turn. We join a queue of vehicles heading in the right general direction. Several times, bogus carpark attendants try to sell us parking at exorbitant rates. We eventually find free parking by the roadside, and start the walk up to the finish venue. We find the CSIR tent relatively easily. Tebogo and her team welcome us very warmly, with food and drinks. I find the Agape tent with a bit more effort. Only Sonet is there. The hospitality trailer is nowhere to be seen.

    I try to find the Mat of Shame, where I have to register my withdrawal. The Mat is very closely guarded. It is much easier to sneak into the finisherís lane and to register a finish than to register a withdrawal. I can easily understand why some runners miss the last two cutoffs and still officially finish... Eventually, I manage to register my withdrawal and go to the finish to watch the 11:00 cutoff. There is a certain amount of irony watching the runners finish exactly when I was hoping to be there myself. There is the usual drama as runners sprint for the line. Some make it. Some donít. A few collapse onto the grass near the finish, having exhausted themselves in a final desperate vain attempt to get the bronze medal.

    The App shows Laurens as still on his way, hoping to finish in the last ten minutes. Alet, TA and I make our way to the finish a few minutes before the scheduled arrival. On the way, I bump into Juline, sporting a medal around her neck. I congratulate her. She is inconsolable. She hasnít been able to find the club tent. I lead her there. As there isnít much going on, I help her to locate another club tent, where she can get her clothes and telephone. I hurry to the finish, just too late to see Laurens and a small group of our colleagues finish in about 11:51. We wait for them at the exit. Eventually, Laurens appears. It is completely dark by now. We lead him to the CSIR tent, where he lies down with a blissful expression on his face. I find a dozen missed calls on my phone and start notifying all the onlookers about my disaster. Half console me, and the other half tell me what a great achievement it was. At least now I know which of my friends can be trusted.

    We eventually amble back to the car and make our way to Laurensís parents. Laurens soaks his legs in the icy swimming pool. We sit down to a sumptuous dinner, before taking turns to soak in the bath and slip into bed. Apart from one midnight interruption, I sleep the sleep of the dead until the sun awakes me for breakfast. We head off soon after. At the two stops along the way, we see dozens of people waddling rather awkwardly. Most of them are wearing bright-orange Comrades shirts or the little white and red caps. I tease them about their walking style, suggesting that they shouldnít be struggling to walk at their age. Perhaps they need a little more exercise?

    Iím obviously profoundly disappointed. I was better prepared than ever before, and was not expecting to have to ride the Bus of Shame again. On the one hand, it feels like many months of wasted effort. My life has been put on hold in most respects while training for this race, and I have nothing to show for it. On the other hand, I think back about three years, and I remember being unable to walk without crutches while trying to regain the use of my leg after my knee was sewed back together. At the time, there was no certainty that I would ever be able to run again.

    I was so hoping to quote Lin Yu Tang about the medal being so much more meaningful in the light of two previous failures. Instead, now Iíd have to consult some quote repository to find something suitably profound to say. Let me resist the temptation, and just say that Iím profoundly grateful. I actually survived 54 km of the race, including the 750 m climb from sea level and four of the five famous Comrades hills. Itís a far cry from the prospect of being a semi-mobile invalid for my remaining years. So in a sense I have achieved my prime objective, even if the medal still eludes me.

    Will I try again? I doubt it. Three unsuccessful attempts and the creeping onset of old age make success less and less likely as time passes. It is a very time-consuming project, and there are a few other projects that demand attention. But stranger things have happened.

    The Good: The world's greatest ultramarathon, with superlatives to match in all departments. Great personal support by Alet, TA and Preia. And I guess I could call it a "challenging hilly route" if I wanted to be generous...

    The Bad: Cramps. And more cramps.

    The Ugly: Investing an inordinate amount of time and effort, and going home empty-handed yet again.

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    Love Run 5 km, 10 km and half marathon, Saturday 2017-05-13 at 07:00

    Goal: 21,1 km at about 6:00/km with no damage

    My departure to Dubai was delayed by a day, so I had the chance to do another race before departure.

    The three races on offer are imaginatively entitled First Love, True Love and Tough Love, respectively. They take place at the premises of Hatfield church, which is nowhere near its original neighbourhood of Hatfield. It now nestles cosily on the northern slope of one of the nastiest hills in Pretoria. And as I've mentioned before, Pretoria is a hilly town.

    This year, the race was being run in the opposite direction to previous years. To me, it made no difference as I have not run the race for many years. We had perfect running weather, which is a way of saying it was very cold and dripping with rain at times. I decided to leave my jacket at the club trailer, arriving at the start line in my running vest and feeling decidedly chilly. Once there, I wondered whether I had not made a mistake, as only a handful of the runners were similarly clad. Most wore jackets or raincoats or at least a T-shirt in addition to the normal vest.

    The start was not too congested, with about a minute being lost in the first km. Around that point, we turned left towards the south and the high terrain. A relentless climb ensued up to the 7 km mark. I noticed yet again that I am allergic to concrete. In places, the road surface was concrete rather than tarmac, and I found myself unable to run wherever we found ourselves on that concrete.

    I was soon comfortable. The gamble to leave my jacket at the tent had paid off, although many runners around me were still clad like Eskimos. Around the 7 km mark, I lost Laurens. We soon started sailing downhill towards the start, and I assumed Laurens would catch up. I latched onto a runner in black who passed me like the wind, and tried to maintain his pace all the way down. We managed to pass dozens of runners on the way. Even though I needed my full concentration to keep up the pace, it seems that I've finally figured out how to run downhill.

    Just before 9 km, we peeled off to the right to cross January Masilela Street into Constantia Park. The terrain there is a little more level—but only a little. For the next hour, we continued to engage a series of hills. I latched onto the downhill racer, as I was a little stronger than he was on the uphills. We jockeyed for position right up to the end. Like the last few weeks, I was feeling comfortable with only the usual pain in my left knee to remind me of times past. We were also surrounded by strong runners going at leisurely pace, winding down to Comrades which is now only three weeks away.

    I had lost several minutes to my planned pace in the first 7 km. By about 15 km, I was back on pace, and decided to start cranking it up. Around 18 km, I started thinking that I could perhaps break two hours. I kept up the pressure and started sailing through the bunch. The last 2 km or so is somewhat downhill, and I managed to cruise home at faster than 5:00/km in complete comfort, finishing about half a minute inside the two-hour mark.

    Once I had stopped, my jacket was very necessary and very welcome. I enjoyed a cold drink at the club tent before heading back to the car. I briefly toyed with the idea of running home to fill up my quota for the week, but decided to take the easy option and do a short run in Dubai the next day instead. I was pleased. The race was challenging, yet I was able to cruise through it with relatively little damage at a respectable pace. There may actually be something to this training thing...

    The Good: Good marshalling. Challenging hilly route.

    The Bad: Biting cold and a bit of rain.

    The Ugly: Challenging hilly route...

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    Jackie Mekler 25 and 10 km, Saturday 2017-05-06 at 06:30

    Goal: 25 km in about 2:30 with no damage

    Today concludes the toughest two-week period in my training schedule, with 30, 42 and 25 km runs within a ten-day period. On paper, it looked very daunting. This morning, it finally felt fairly certain that I was going to survive. I did not have strong pace expectations, as I was more interested in survival, but Laurens and I agreed that 6:00/km would be about right. We were looking for a good workout without injury risk. My sniffles from the previous week had subsided, and seemed to be reasonably under control.

    This race was virtually a repetition of the 2015 race, although I ran the 25 km race rather than the 10 km version this time. The military precision did not disappoint. Again, there was a major military airshow at nearby Swartkop Air Force Base, leading to serious traffic jams before and after the event.

    Laurens and I arrived about 20 minutes before the start, and had to park over 1 km away. We dumped our jackets at the CSIR club tent and made our way to the start, arriving just in time. The start was reasonably smooth, although the large field due to the race's League status did take its toll. I passed the start line after just more than one minute, and had lost two minutes to our planned pace by the time the 1 km marker rolled around. From this point, the race was mostly downhill for the next 5 km or so. We took it very easy, exchanging notes about various topics. Laurens told me about Nike's attempt to break the two-hour barrier in the Marathon, happening simultaneously at Monza in Italy. Doing so is a tall order, as the existing world record is almost three minutes over the two-hour mark. It was scary to think that the marathon runners would have to run more than twice as fast as we were going today! I passed Hennie and Marix again in the first few km, but I didn't dare coax them into a faster pace, given what had happened last time...

    Around the 10 km mark, I lost Laurens at a water point. I assumed that he would catch up on the next downhill. On the second lap, after the 10 km runners had peeled off to the finish, the atmosphere was very relaxed, with a lot of Comrades contenders completing one of their last longish runs. Surrounded by experienced runners running at a comfortable pace, I even had capacity to field an interrogation from a budding young pilot about my flying career! At the end of a long downhill run, I could not see Laurens when looking back through the field. I decided to stick with clubmates Wallie, Harry and Mandy, who were doing a similar pace to mine. I needed some restraint to avoid speeding up, and the company was welcome. Soon afterwards, Marius joined us from behind. He was chomping at the bit to run a little faster, and I fell for it. We overtook the 2:30 bus on an uphill grade with contemptuous ease, and found ourselves ahead of the bus without our clubmates. I soon realised that we were going much faster than I had been planning, but decided to stick it out. Despite my misgivings about the effects of the previous ten days, I was feeling reasonably strong. Marius and I exchanged tales about the aeroplanes flying overhead—he had also spent time in the Air Force once upon a time. He also told me how a large contingent from his family was joining his brother in his fortieth consecutive Comrades attempt. Fortunately, he mentioned that he was a proponent of walking on uphills, and I seized the opportunity. For the last 10 km or so, I took a few walk breaks while maintaining an average pace of better than 5:30/km, even on uphills. I was definitely not sticking to the plan, but I felt strong and it was clear that we would get away with it.

    We completed the last 3 km in about 15:30 and had very little in the way of after-effects. I was very pleased. I had reached the end of the hardest two weeks in my training relatively unscathed, with only the usual medial knee pain and a very slight remnant of the previous week's lateral ITB problem. Hanri's strapping and exercises had apparently had the desired effect.

    A breakfast sample from a marketer and a cold drink at my Club tent went down well. Most of my peers, including Laurens, arrived within a few minutes after me. We trundled back to the car, getting a welcome lift from Izak along the way. This time we avoided the airshow traffic with a slight detour, and found our way home with relatively little trouble.

    The coming week is the first week of winding down, with only 45 km on the programme. The following weeks will be even less demanding, with only 35, 25 and 10 km planned. It actually looks like I'm going to make it!

    I expect to travel overseas during the next week or two, so there may not be race reports for a while. If I do manage to work in a race in another country, I'll be sure to record it here for posterity.

    The Good: Good marshalling. Challenging undulating route.

    The Bad: Traffic at the venue.

    The Ugly: No green cold drinks at all.

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    Wally Hayward Marathon, Half Marathon and 10 km, Monday 2017-05-01 at 06:30

    Goal: 42,2 km in about 4:30 with no damage

    The Moment of Truth has arrived. Today I'll see if I can survive a marathon properly, after apparently finding some solutions to the nutrition problems that I had in the Vaal Marathon.

    The night was difficult, as a head cold started rearing its ugly head the day before. I woke up several times. Around 04:00, both nostrils were completely blocked, and I spent a few minutes rinsing my nasal passages with salt water. Fortunately, when my alarm clock went at 05:00, I was reasonably clear.

    I ran the checklist that I had compiled during the previous week. It seemed to work well—I arrived with everything I needed, including sunscreen, a hat and all the food that I had to carry. I consumed a bit more time that usual, though, and ended up running about 10 minutes late. We found parking just over 1 km from the finish, with less than 10 minutes before the start.

    The field was the biggest in recent memory. It took up the entire width of a suburban street to a depth of at least 250 m. I was about two-thirds down the bunch. Laurens, who had travelled separately, was nowhere to be seen. The gun went about five minutes late. It took about three minutes before I started moving at all, and about five minutes before I crossed the start line. From this point, the bunch flowed reasonably well, and I had lost only about 5:30 at the 1 km marker. The weather was great, with temperatures in the teens and thick cloud cover that filtered the worst sunshine. The route starts with a fairly flat section, followed by a relentless gentle climb up the M10. After a sharp descent followed by a sharp climb, we traversed the wall of Waterkloof Air Force Base before turning back towards the start venue. Another few rolling hills, and we could commence the second lap. I aimed for a pace of 6:30/km, but gradually eroded the five-minute deficit at the start. I caught Laurens around 2 km. This time, we were not too well synchronised. He came and went several times, but somehow our paces never quite coincided. I ran solo most of the time, but at the leisurely pace, I just pretended to be an impartial observer. There were lots of sights and sounds, and more than four hours to soak them up.

    Some of the sights and sounds involve unusual runners. During the first lap, I passed two guys with crutches and artificial legs. Around the 33 km mark, I passed a runner who was clearly doing things differently. He apparently doesn't think that running a marathon is enough of a challenge, so he runs backwards. Given where I found him, he is clearly no slouch, even going the "wrong" way. There were also some unfortunate sounds to soak up, with AGN13601 again causing a racket that disturbed the rhythm of numerous other runners.

    Water points were generally effective, with some orange slices and shortbread on offer here and there. Most water points had Cream Soda, but a few had run out by the second lap. I mostly ate the gels and some cheese that I was carrying, and never felt hungry or disorientated. Towards the end, I must admit that I would have appreciated something salty.

    I've heard that a marathon starts at 30 km. Everything before that point is only a warmup. Given my history at Vaal, the theory makes sense. I was therefore gratified that my pace did not slow even as the 35 km mark slid past. I was still fairly comfortable, walking some of the steeper climbs and generally just jogging gently at about 6:00/km.

    The Wally is famous for its nasty climb just before the finish. The change of venue has softened the pain somewhat. The last 150 m or so have been replaced by a flat finish, leaving only the first part of that climb intact. I was able to amble up the hill and finish strongly in 4:32 or so, making up most of the five-minute deficit from the start and feeling strong. I felt confident that I could have made the 4:20 limit for an F seeding, had I started a little earlier and been a little less cagey about preserving myself for the next week's training. All in all, I was very happy with my post-bionic best and by far the least tiring marathon I've ever run.

    Buses can be found in most marathons. An experienced runner carries a flag advertising a specific time limit. In this race, the time limits were 5:00, 4:40 and 4:20. The Wally Hayward is traditionally the last Comrades qualifier, and the three times correspond to the H, G and F seedings respectively. There were two 5:00 buses. Given that I was aiming for 4:30 and maintaining a constant pace, I was expecting to end up between the 4:20 and 4:40 buses. Don't you believe it! It took several km just to pass the first 5:00 bus. I passed the second 5:00 bus around the halfway mark, with the clock at 2:15. They were going much too fast! If they were aiming for even splits, they should have hit the halfway mark around 2:30, or maybe even a little later due to the slow start. I overtook the 4:40 bus less than 4 km from the finish. Again, they were clearly going much too fast. I really have the feeling that some of these ""drivers" are doing their proteges a disservice, by starting much too fast and exhausting their charges too early in the race. The 4:40 bus did arrive just before the 4:40 cutoff, so I'm sure there must be many happy qualifiers in that bunch, but I have a feeling they could have done even better with more sensible pacing.

    After making use of the hospitality of our respective club tents, Laurens and I hobbled back to Alet's car with her. She was already well rested, having done the 10 km race and spent a couple of hours with a novel while waiting for us.

    My ITB from the previous two races did not flare up. In fact, with the strapping in place, I was probably a little less sore than after the previous two races. My knee is also no worse than before. On Tuesday morning, as I write this story, I woke up with a heart rate of 48 and my muscles have more or less returned to normal, with no more than slight stiffness.

    Now what?

    After figuring out what had gone wrong at Vaal, I decided to give it one more go. Wally was going to be my final hurdle, and I would decide whether I was going to make the pilgrimage to Durban after this race. Right now, it looks good. I'll wait another day to get complete clarity on the ITB, to see whether my muscles return to normality and to see how the sniffles pan out. On Wednesday, I'll have to decide whether to start booking accommodation...

    The Good: Good marshalling. Challenging route.

    The Bad: Traffic at the venue! Not enough green cold drinks.

    The Ugly: AGN13601 with his ghetto blaster and his obscured licence number. Clearly, rules are for other people.

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    Tshwane Half Marathon and 10 km, Saturday 2017-04-29 at 06:30

    Goal: 10 km in less than 56:00

    This League race came only two days after the 30 km Long Run and two days before the Wally Hayward marathon. With discretion being the better part of valour, I decided to make a tempo run of it rather than to tackle the half marathon. At normal tempo pace, I could earn five points for my club and get in a good workout, hopefully without inflicting damage that I would regret on Monday.

    Despite its league-race status, parking was easy to find. We arrived just after 06:00, bought our numbers and moved towards the start. There was a decided nip in the air, producing great running conditions. Laurens went to warm up to facilitate a fast start, while I decided to start slowly and use the first few km as a warmup. I stripped off my jacket at the last possible moment.

    The start was chaotic, as the bunch started moving without a shot being heard. I started my stopwatch as soon as I noticed the movement. As we passed the start line at about 0:40, two loud reports were heard. Obviously, they finally got the gun working! By this time, the leading runners were disappearing around the corner. I didn't see the 1 km marker, but reached the 2 km mark at about 12:30, about 90 s behind schedule. As I was still warming up, I was happy.

    The route winds trough the neigbhourhood with many twists and turns, but very little undulation. I was running comfortably, gradually eroding the deficit. By the halfway mark, I was on schedule, and well west of the start with some height in hand. I continued to run comfortably, passing three Kens and several other club members in the process. Although I didn't have my GPS with me, the km markers seemed fairly accurate, with no wildly-unlikely splits. My breathing was relaxed and my stride comfortable.

    At the finish, there was a discrepancy of about a minute between my time and the offical stopwatch. Seems like they only started their stopwatch about 20 s after gunshots! I was happy, though—any way you look at it, my time was below 54:00, comfortably below my target. I was feeling no ill after-effects, with my heart rate quickly returning to normal and no muscle soreness or stiffness. My left knee felt a little tight, but no worse than usual.

    On the way home, there was some ITB soreness on the left knee, and I took the precaution of seeing Physio the Rapist later in the day. After being suitably strapped up, complete with shaved leg and some exercises, I'm hoping I'm ready for Monday. I'll find out soon enough!

    The Good: Easy access. Flat route. Enough green cold drinks (although I didn't need them this time).

    The Bad: Chaotic start.

    The Ugly: That slight niggle in the left ITB...

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    Magnolia Long Run, 15/30/45 km, Thursday 2017-04-27 at 06:00

    Goal: 30 km at Comrades pace

    My running has been going reasonably well recently, with only some nagging pain in my left knee to remind me of worse days past. With some reasonably effective nutrition solutions in hand, I decided to join Laurens for a Comrades dress rehearsal. Although the Magnolia Long Run isn't strictly a race, it is an organised running event and definitely worthy of a race report.

    We arrived around 05:50, easily found parking, paid our registration fee and were ready to start by 06:00. Someone with a microphone started a five-minute speech. Although runners were initially silent, the buzz soon returned and drowned out the speaker. We stood waiting until the speech ended, then started on a slight uphill. I soon realised that I'd forgotten my hat again. In the event, it wasn't a problem, as most of the streets we ran on were leafy and we started about 20 minutes before sunrise. In fact, for the first 3 km or so, I felt decidedly cold. My legs were a little tired from the preceding week's training.

    Although the route was clearly marked, there were no distance markers. The pace was excruciatingly slow. We constantly had to adjust our pace, using Laurens's GPS pacer. As we knew from experience that our heart rates are very similar, we relied on my heart monitor to ensure that we weren't overdoing it. The objective was to come out of this 30 km run completely unscathed, failing which the following week could turn into a nightmare.

    To maintain constant effort, our pace was not constant, as we walked on the worst uphills and jogged gently most of the time. After about an hour, we started seeing the same people over and over again. We would overtake them on the flat bits, and they would overtake us on the uphill bits. Some pointed questions revealed that most of our peers were preparing for an 11:00 finish at Comrades. It seemed that we were obviously on the right track, assuming that everyone else wasn't barking up the wrong tree too!

    We finished a few minutes ahead of pace, taking around 3:43 for just over 30 km. In general, the session was a success. The nutrition strategy worked and we felt comfortable most of the way, once we had warmed up properly. With a distance of about one-third of Comrades behind us, at least there were no serious niggles. Three hours later, I was fully recovered with no undue stiffness and with a heart rate back below 60.

    The next serious hurdle is the Wally Hayward marathon on Monday, followed by the Jackie Mekler 25 km memorial race the following Saturday. If we can survive next week, I may actually be tempted to visit Durban early in June. On fresh legs, it may actually be possible to keep going three times as long.

    We'll see. Next week.

    The Good: Easy access. Nice scenic route. Great refreshments.

    The Bad: Not much.

    The Ugly: Three times this distance? You've got to be kidding!

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    Lynnridge 6, 11 and 22 km, Monday 2017-04-17 at 07:00

    Goal: 22 km at 6:00/km.

    With the Two Oceans marathon on Saturday, there was no race in Gauteng. I ran solo from home to Midstream, a hilly course with three substantial climbs. It went more or less according to plan, but I was worried that the after-effects would hamper my efforts in this race on Easter Monday, only two days later.

    I was expecting dense traffic. I was pleasantly surprised, though. I arrived less than half an hour before the start, and probably wasted less than a minute in traffic. I found parking close by and was standing at the start with a quarter of an hour to spare.

    The start was crowded, but to my amazement it flowed well from the start. I passed the 1 km marker at 6:15, about halfway down the bunch. The first portion was a gentle downhill, which would have been nice if one didn't know that we would pay for it later.

    Many of our club runners were only doing the 11 km route, in view of the Loskop ultramarathon next weekend. I didn't find anyone who was running at my pace, so I just settled down and did my own thing. The course is very hilly, and I walked many of the worst climbs, while remaining within a minute or so of my target pace. At the end of the first lap, I was about a minute ahead of target and feeling very comfortable. I decided to push a little harder, and gradually opened up a gap, making me think that passing the half-marathon mark at under two hours would be feasible. I did so, just barely, and cruised home in about 2:02. I was very pleased that I was able to do so, against the background of Saturday's long run.

    Just in case I was tempted to start feeling like Superman, I must share the story of Paul and Ryan. This father-and-son pair ran just ahead of me for most of the first lap. Paul was pushing a pram in which his daughter was riding. Ryan looks like he's about 10 years old. I didn't enjoy the thought that li'l kids and guys pushing prams could outrun me, but what really hurt was ongoing comments from Ryan about how easy the pace was...

    My sister and two of our friends had done the 6 km walk. I had told them to look for me at the finish between 2:10 and 2:15. With my early finish, we had to do a bit of scouting to get together. After a bit of banter, we all set sail for home with most of the day still ahead of us. The run was enjoyable, with quiet traffic and effective marshalling and water points. The only downsides were the non-standard distance and the lack of caffeine-free drinks. Sigh...

    The Good: Easy access. Nice scenic route. Good marshalling.

    The Bad: No green drinks.

    The Ugly: Those hills. But I guess that's the price one has to pay for living in Pretoria!

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    Ford 10 km and Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-04-08 at 06:30

    Goal: 21,1 km in relaxed style. Two hours would be nice.

    After the over-exuberance of the past two weeks, I did not know what to expect of this race. I decided to start gently, and then crank it up if I felt comfortable. I deliberately left my heart rate monitor at home.

    Last year, this race was about 10% short, so I expected that it might happen again. Depending on my condition at the end, being short-changed might actually be welcome! Parking was a bit tight. Although we arrived earlier than necessary, we still spent a few minutes looking for parking.

    The race starts at Samcor Park, then heads east into the streets of Nellmapius. The start was reasonably smooth, with little traffic on the road. Despite being in the middle of the bunch, we passed the 1 km mark at 6:20. Many bystanders were cheering us on. Around the 2 km mark, Laurens indicated that he was going to maintain a sedate pace, and I started accelerating. The route winds through Willows and Meyerspark with no more than mild undulations. All that changes suddenly around the halfway mark, with us having to cross the Murrayfield ridge twice. The result is a very hilly second half, from about 10 to 18 km. I spent most of this time chatting to Kobus about the olden days when we were colleagues in a small technology startup. He eventually got bored and sped off into the distance. Distance markers were a little variable, with deviations of up to 250 m around the 8 and 18 km marks, and the rest much closer to the truth.

    With just over 3 km to go, my stopwatch said 1:45. The route to the finish was going to be mostly slightly downhill, and I was feeling strong with no sign of trouble, so I decided to try and tuck in under two hours. I managed to cover the last 3 km in just under 15 minutes, beating the two-hour mark with seconds to spare. The route was spot-on at 21,1 km, so at least the organisers seemed to have solved their problems of last year.

    All in all, I am pretty pleased. With the 30 km run two weeks ago and 48 km last week, I was actually expecting to be somewhat the worse for wear. There was no sign of accumulated fatigue, so it appears that the gentle pace and good nutrition did the trick.

    Laruens came in later than planned. Early in the race, his way was blocked by a line-abreast formation of runners. He ventured onto the rough sidewalk to sneak past, and felt a slight twitch in his hamstring. The pain became worse and worse, and he practically limped home about 15 minutes behind schedule, just as I started wondering whether I should go and look for him. It doesn't appear serious, but even a slight niggling injury can wreak havoc with Comrades preparations at this time of year!

    The Good: Being relatively unscathed after last week's ultra-marathon. That last 3 km in under 15 minutes. Good marshalling. Good water points with enough green drinks.

    The Bad: Laurens's injury.

    The Ugly: The fellow runner who showed tremendous disrespect towards my shoes. So uncalled for—they are probably older than she is!

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    Modern Athlete Irene Ultra and Half Marathon, Sunday 2017-04-02 at 06:00

    Goal: 48 km in relaxed style, with no ill effects. Figure out how to stay fed.

    After the disastrous experience at the Vaal Marathon, I increasingly came to the conclusion that poor nutrition during the race was at the root of my problem. I decided to use the Irene Ultra to figure out how to stay well-fed in practice.

    This race was always going to be a challenge, in the light of last weekend's 30 km race in Cape Town. I recovered well during the week, but as recently as Friday there was still a hint of soreness. If a marathon on well-rested legs was a challenge, an ultra-marathon on tired legs could potentially be an adventure.

    I went with Laurens and TA. We arrived in plenty of time, but got snarled up in very dense traffic. Some jokers cruised up the wrong side of the road, causing even worse congestion at the gates we all had to enter. Although we made it to the start line in time, there was not a lot of room for error. We ended up well down the bunch, with perhaps over 100 m to the start line. Unfortunately, not everyone arrived as early as we did. Well after 06:00, there was still a constant stream of traffic entering the premises on the very road that this huge bunch had to run down. It soon became clear that we would start very late. The gun went 21 minutes late, just after sunrise. We could not hear the gun, and the only stopwatch that Laurens (the tallest in our group) could see did not start running when the vehicle on which it was mounted started moving. We took about six minutes to make it to the start line. Even then, the bunch did not start moving smoothly until much later.

    Although I'd remembered this time to apply sunscreen, knowing that we would spend over five hours on the road in glaring sunshine, I managed to forget my hat in my car. I only saw two other 48 km runners without hats, and both of them are genetically a lot more suited to direct sunlight than I am...

    The route winds through the ARC experimental farm, then the leafy suburbs of Irene and Doringkloof, before setting off down Botha Avenue towards the Fountains. After a gradual descent of more than 5 km into the Fountains Valley, we turned around and climbed back up. Another sojourn in Doringkloof was followed by a long climb to John Vorster Drive, in which we ran all the way to South Downs and the marathon mark. Uniquely, this race provides two times that can be used for Comrades qualification—a marathon time and a 48 km time. The 48 km seeding cutoff times are more lenient, as they have been calculated for a distance of 50 km. Anyone who can keep going at a fairly constant pace after the marathon mark is likely to gain a better seeding at the finish than at the marathon mark.

    This time, I would be independent of the race organisers, and carry my own five-course meal. The idea was to consume a gel sachet every hour, plus assorted bits like nougat, nuts, salt tablets, electrolyte mixture, plus whatever could be scrounged along the route. The latter consisted of a baked potato (although the baking could have been considerably more thorough!), several bananas, some vitamin C sweets and an ample supply of green cold drink.

    Marshalling was good, with only one water point around the 28 km mark on the wrong side of the road. I guess my feeding strategy must have paid dividends, as I was able to continue intermittent running right up to the end.

    A personal highlight was passing Caroline Wöstmann around the 15 km mark.

    Before you start whispering my name along with Charne Bosman's, let me explain. Caroline cruised past me and Laurens just after the 15 km mark with contemptuous ease. Presumably, she was using the race as a training run and had started late to avoid the crowd. Soon after she had passed us, we were all stopped by a traffic official before crossing Botha Avenue. Caroline stopped directly ahead of us. I was able to sneak past her just before the traffic cop let us go. As expected, a few seconds later she cruised past with contemptuous ease yet again, but I'd had my moment. Such is the pathetic life of an also-ran.

    For the first half of the route, I was trying to maintain my target heart rate of 138. It peaked around 144 a few times, but in general I wasn't too far off the mark. Laurens's pulse was very similar to mine most of the time. We were also maintaining a pace very close to the desired 6:25/km. Around the 18 km mark, as we started the descent towards the turn, Laurens left me behind. I soon noticed that I'd considerably slowed down. I eventually decided to adjust my target heart rate upwards by 10, to allow me to maintain a decent pace. I still had to walk on most climbs, so I continued to lose time. This effect didn't happen last week to anywhere near the same degree. Perhaps the 30 km race was too recent, and my body was complaining about the wanton abuse.

    During the last part of the race, the sun was baking down. It was almost mid-day, and there was not a cloud in the sky. I started walking through the shadows and running in sunlight, to try to minimise the damage from the glaring sun. I finished around 5:47. The official results show about two minutes more. Still slow, but I was happy. My newly-formulated nutrition strategy seemed to work. I'd completed my first ultra-marathon with my plastic knee. The damage inflicted was fairly limited. My knee's pain level remained tolerable, and I was able to attend a music concert later in the day. By the end of the day, there was hardly a trace of muscle soreness. I'm profoundly grateful about the recovery, despite the painful three-year process that it took.

    Getting out was almost as difficult as getting in. We queued for perhaps half an hour before getting out through the gate.

    What happens next? I haven't tackled another training programme yet. We'll see. I definitely want to do a fast 10 km race around October. Apart from that goal, I'm still wondering whether I should try to improve my marathon time or return to my comfort zone in the shorter races. A half marathon is so much more civilised, and 42,2 km is a long, long, way!

    The Good: Passing Caroline Wöstmann. Good marshalling. Good water points with some snacks available.

    The Bad: Forgetting my hat in my car. The horrible traffic.

    The Ugly: AGN13601 with his ghetto blaster, who refused to turn down the volume to a tolerable level.

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    Tygerberg 30 km, Sunday 2017-03-26 at 06:00

    Goal: 30 km in relaxed style, with no ill effects.

    I find myself in Cape Town due to studies, work and family. The only available race this weekend is a 30 km run. It's not ideal by any means, as I need to save myself for next weekend. Laurens is trying to coax me into a really long run, 48 km. I decided to do the heart-rate thing. If my heart rate remains below 140 all the way, I should manage to inflict little enough damage that I can tackle next weekend's run without self-destructing.

    Traffic was very orderly. It kept flowing most of the way, and only the odd BMW was trying to push forward in the right lane. Entries were a little different to what I'm used to. There was a separate entry table for each category, and the category was printed in large digits on the entry slip. I queued at the table for men over fifty with dark hair, brown eyes and blue running shoes, and was soon on my way to the start.

    It never ceases to amaze me how many people pitch up for these events. Today, it was very noticeable that thousands of people were lining up for the start, and I didn't know a single one of them. In fact, most of the club vests were not even familiar to me. Of course, at this point someone tapped me on the shoulder. It turned out to be my colleague Edward. He was planning a similarly leisurely run, anticipating a 3:15 finish.

    We started in pitch darkness. The start was very orderly and flowed well. I started well down the field, but lost less than half a minute on the first km. I maintained a heart rate of around 138, producing a pace of just under 6:00/km. The sun rose after a little less than an hour. We hit the first climb at about 12 km, slowing things right down. I walked up most of the steepest slopes, to keep my heart rate within limits. On the downhill around the 17 km mark, I paid the price for dividing my attention between my stopwatch and my heart rate monitor. A cat's eye caught me out, and I took a headlong tumble, making two full revolutions head over heels before coming to a stop. Fortunately, the road surface was very smooth, and the damage was confined to slightly-abraded palms and a bruised ego. There is an advantage to not knowing anyone in the bunch!

    There was another fairly bad climb around 22 km or so. From there, it was downhill to the finish. I was interested to notice that my pace had slowed considerably during the race. Despite maintaining identical heart rates, I was unable to maintain a pace of faster than about 6:15. 30 km is a long way, and it is clear that one's body accumulates some damage along the way!

    The race was a lot of fun, as running goes. I found my breathing to be much more relaxed than at home, taking at least 20% fewer breaths than I'm used to. The scenery was also interesting, with the route winding through the vineyards and dozens of rotten grape juice vendors. With the new graphics-based province labels, it was interesting to look at all the different licences around me. I only saw one other from North Gauteng. I was also intrigued by the strange system to keep time at the finish. Instead of handing in your tear-off slip at the finish line, you collect a sequentially-numbered plastic envelope at the finish, into which you have to place your entry slip (with the elaborate category markings) and place it on a large board with a separate slot for every position up to 1000. For the likes of me, who ended up at 3:13 just outside the first 1000, there is a cardboard box into which the plastic envelope is unceremoniously dumped. I saw Edward finishing about three minutes after me.

    Marshalling was effective. Gee, most of them even know the rules of the road, and we were able to run on the right almost all the way! Water points were well-stocked, with energy drinks in addition to the usual water and Coke. The last water point even had things to nibble on—I noticed some potatoes and orange slices.

    The big question, of course, is whether I've inflicted too much damage in the light of next weekend's plans. So far, so good. Apart from the usual nagging pain in my left knee, I'm comfortable and well-rested. We'll know by Tuesday or so!

    The Good: Interesting countryside. Table Mountain constantly in the background. Good traffic flow. Good marshalling. Clean streets—even water sachets are piled neatly in or near the dustbins. Enough drinks, and even some food. Ample parking.

    The Bad: 30 km is a long way.

    The Ugly: That cat-eye that jumped up in front of me.

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    Right To Run 10 km and Half Marathon, Tuesday 2017-03-21 at 07:00

    Goal: 10 km in relaxed style, with no ill effects.

    Today is a public holiday—Human Rights Day. The Right to Run race takes place at Sunnypark, once one of Pretoria's proudest shopping centres but now, thirty years later, part of a run-down part of town surrounded by high-density housing. The late start made for a reasonable time to rise. I left home at 05:45 to collect Laurens and TA. Laurens was doing his low-heartrate thing on the half marathon, while TA and I would try our luck on the 10 km. The next two weeks will involve some major distances, partly in an effort to understand the mishap at the Vaal Marathon. Circumspection dictated that today was not a good day for long distances.

    We arrived early. Traffic was very slow and dense for the last few blocks, but we managed to secure parking in the indoor parking without too much trouble (if you exclude the kerb that my poor car connected with on the way in). Sunnypark looked a lot better than during my last visit. Maybe some new floor tiles have appeared, and the place now looks well cared for.

    The start was reasonably smooth, with a very slight rise up Esselen Street to the east. We'd lost only about a minute by the time the first distance marker slid past. I started with a bunch of eight Agape members (colloquially known as "Ag Ape"). We soon settled into our own paces, and I found myself cruising through leafy old Sunnyside East and past the University campus. Around the 7 km mark, we started overtaking the densest part of the 5 km bunch. Some fancy footwork was required to avoid the slow traffic. There was something special about today's bunch, though. Today is World Down Syndrome Day, and there were dozens of Down Syndrome kids, mostly accompanied by mommies. I witnessed something that can hardly leave one untouched—a wheelchair athlete giving a Down child a ride.

    The last half of the route was slightly downhill. I was feeling strong, so I kept speeding up towards the finish. The last three kilometres were completed in just over 15 minutes, for a total time of just under 54 minutes. While waiting for Laurens, I ambled around for an hour or so, watching the finishers, trying to find something other than Coke to drink, chatting to fellow Club members and catching up on the legendary Ken Nurden's life story. My favourite episode was of how Ken, in his seventies, aimed for a ninety-minute half marathon. He ended up with an official time of 1:30:01. He must have been very disappointed, but I found myself thinking that most youngsters would relish anything close to that time in their own logbooks!

    Marshalling was generally good. The water points flowed smoothly, but two of the three and the finish did not have any caffeine-free drinks. Sigh...

    The Good: Nice route—reasonably flat and through nice leafy suburbs. Good marshalling. Enough parking.

    The Bad: No caffeine-free drinks (except at the second water point).

    The Ugly: That kerb that suddenly jumped up in front of my car on the way in...

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    Budget Kolonnade 10 km and Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-03-18 at 06:00

    Goal: Half marathon with no ill effects, preferably under two hours.

    With no formal training programme in progress, but with two long runs coming up in the next few weeks, I was uncertain about what to do. Laurens has been running at low heart rates (read: Slowly) and I joined him for a training session on Thursday. I was toying with the idea of doing the same thing in the race, but decided that I was going to do a semi-hard race instead. I didn't want to hurt myself, but I wasn't going to plod along at a sub-140 heart rate either.

    Ten minutes before the start, few runners were to be seen. I assumed that the Om die Dam Ultra had lured most of the usual crowd away, but a sizeable field arrived in the last few minutes. I was relatively close to the front, making for an easy start. The climb starts almost immediately, quickly spreading the bunch and making for good traffic flow. I would imagine it would have been more congested further back, though.

    The route is hilly, especially on the first half lap. If you think you're going to benefit from the climbs in the first 5 km, you're in for a surprise. Somehow, despite a considerable altitude gain in that first half, the second half is also uphill. I was reminded of Mauritz Escher's Klimmen en Dalen, which features a square staircase on which you keep climbing constantly as you walk around it.

    I maintained a comfortable 5:10 pace, except on the uphills. I walked shamelessly on most of these. The strategy seemed to work. Most of my clubmates, who started off running boisterously up those hills, eventually faded and lagged behind. Halfway through the second lap, I knew that two hours would be easy, and decided to try for 1:55. I spent some time chatting to Walter, who was slower today than he normally is on the time trial. Around the 18 km mark, as I decided to walk up yet another incline, he left me behind. Nevertheless, I was able to complete the last 2 km in under 10 minutes, comfortably breaking the 1:55 mark.

    One major disappointment was that the organisers neglected to provide anything but Coke to drink. Two hours on the road with nothing to drink but water is not ideal.

    The Club tent provided welcome relief in the form of canned cold drinks. This time, I collected the car while Laurens and TA waited near the finish.

    The Good: Good marshalling. Enough parking.

    The Bad: No caffeine-free drinks.

    The Ugly: How on earth can a lap race consist of constant climbs?

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    Bobbies 10 km and Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-03-11 at 05:30

    Goal: 10 km in no more than 56:00

    Mindful of the likely deleterious effects of last week's marathon on my legs, I entered the 10 km race. The week hasn't been bad, with no pain except a little in my knee after one of the week's two gentle running sessions.

    The race's League status drew a large crowd, making it extremely hard to find parking. We crawled through the underground parking in the Wonderboom Junction shopping centre without finding a spot. We finally parked in deep gravel behind the building, frantically hoping that the car would not get stuck up to its axles. Laurens jumped out before we'd parked, as the half marathon was due to start at 05:30. TA and I managed to make it to the start line with about seven minutes to spare before the 10 km start at 05:40. I was pleasantly surprised to find my erstwhile colleague Barbara in the bunch, and we caught up on each other's lives for a few minutes before the gun went. The start was very dense, but flowed reasonably well. I could not see my watch at the 1 km marker as it was still dark. At 2 km, we appeared to have lost about a minute—not bad for such a big bunch. I wasn't worried, though, as I wasn't up for the 50:15 target time for six League points, so my only imperative was to make a relatively leisurely 56 minutes.

    The mean hills started around 3 km. We had two steep climbs. I was feeling fairly comfortable, especially with the knowledge that we had gained considerable elevation, and that the second half would be much easier. Feeling no more discomfort than usual, I decided to speed up considerably in the second half.

    On approaching the last major road before the finish, we were stopped by marshals for almost a minute to let the traffic through. Once the metro policeman stopped the traffic, I started running again, anxious to achieve a good time. Several cars sped through the intersection, causing a close call. The last few hundred metres were fun, with me feeling strong after a successful race and an eforced break. I finished just under 53 minutes, well within my target. More importantly, I felt fresh and relaxed. It seems like my first post-bionic marathon has left me completely unscathed!

    Laurens was doing the half marathon, so I had almost an hour to kill. I spent some time at my club tent chatting with Wanja, who had finished just after me, then proceeded to the CSIR tent where we watched a strength training session by some yuppy gym. Musclebound hunks flipping large tyres don't do it for me, but I did spend a few nostalgic minutes reflecting on my officer training in the Air Force. A glimpse of large tyres will never leave me entirely untouched again.

    The Good: Being fully recovered less than a week after my first post-bionic marathon.

    The Bad: Those hills.

    The Ugly: Motorists who disregard directions from traffic officials. And perhaps the musclebound hunks flipping tyres in the parking lot (especially the female ones!).

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    Cape Gate Vaal Marathon, Sunday 2017-03-05 at 06:00

    Goal: 42,2 km at 6:00/km (or at the very least to finish below 4:20)

    The moment of truth has arrived. Or, as the Flying Dutchman is reported to have dramatically stated: "Die Frist ist um".

    After sixteen weeks on a marathon programme, today I'm attempting a marathon. It will be the first I have done with my plastic knee, and my one and only opportunity to qualify for Comrades.

    Let's backtrack for a minute. Comrades is the world's largest and oldest ultramarathon. It annually winds its way between Durban and Pietermaritzburg. Durban is on the southeast coast. Pietermaritzburg is inland, at an elevation of about 720 m and about 87 km away. The race alternates between Up and Down, when the two cities change places as start and finish venues.

    After my knee reconstruction, I set myself the tangible target of finishing a Comrades race. It would be visible proof that my rehabilitation is complete. I chose an Up race. Although the climb is far more demanding, the downhill pounding of the Down race takes a greater toll on one's knees. And obviously someone with a vulnerable knee doesn't particularly want to pound that knee too much. When I started completing half marathons with reasonable facility and tolerable pain in 2016, I signed up for Comrades in 2017.

    Much poring over statistics from past years convinced me that an F seeding is required. To enter Comrades, you have to complete a standard marathon (42,2 km) or longer in a prescribed time. The basic cutoff is five hours for the standard distance, or more for longer distances. Just barely making the cutoff dumps you into the H bunch. You start at the back, you take up to ten minutes to cross the start line and you run with others who likewise scraped through. Add into the mix a poorly-chosen cutoff time at the halfway mark, forcing stragglers to run much too fast on the murderous climbs in the first half, and the odds are not in your favour.

    Doing better during qualification—the increments are 20 minutes at the standard distance—gets you into the G group, then F, and so on. The A group consists of super athletes that weigh less than 60 kg and appear to be made of subcutaneous steel wire. They are gold medal contenders, or at least silver. My most enlightening insight from the statistics was that A to F groups all have a finish rate of about 70%, while the G and H groups have a finish rate of about 40%. If you want a reasonable chance of finishing successfully, you have to have an F seeding or better.

    My programme predicted that I could finish under 4:00 with a flat-out effort, resulting in a D seeding. However, I would be left in a bad state, and require a long layoff. I elected to aim for 4:20 and an F seeding instead, making it a reasonably relaxed affair and hopefully allowing me to continue my training with only a minor break. I decided to maintain a pace of 6:00/km, making the arithmetic simple and finishing about seven minutes inside the target time. I also had the option of eating up those seven minutes if things didn't turn out as planned.

    Now you understand my target for this marathon. I had two objectives. The first was to finish under 4:20 with an F seeding. The second was to walk away (sic) without any ailments, so that I could immediately start to train for Comrades. March and April are the crunch months for Comrades, so a three-week layoff resulting from an all-out effort would put paid to any Comrades ambitions anyway.

    Although I was determined not to allow myself to be drawn into the Comrades hype before today, some pointed studying of the official Comrades training programmes showed that my training of the last 16 weeks involved a very similar volume to theirs. If I did indeed decide to go, I would be able to continue with their Bronze programme more or less seamlessly.

    The past few weeks have been a little tumultuous. Apart from a cold that haunted me for several weeks, I also had to contend with considerable pressure of work and an unexpected flight to Upington that I didn't want to turn down. By hook or by crook, I only missed one running session. I was also a little light on the cross-training sessions (cycling and swimming) in the past few weeks, due to the head cold. It was therefore not without apprehension that this weekend approached. My training programme predicted that I should be ready, but 42,2 km is a very long way indeed. Since my knee reconstruction, I have done 32 km on three occasions, and nothing more. I had no idea how my plastic knee would hold up, either.

    I left home at 03:30. Laurens offered to drive, as I did not know what state I would be in after the race. It is a substantial drive, well over an hour. As always, it was fun to see the traffic density gradually increasing as we got closer. The last quarter of an hour was spent following the GPS's wild goose chase to avoid stationary traffic. It worked reasonably well, but we still ended up parking far away. A 20-minute walk was required to the start venue.

    The race uses Championchip timing. Although the race started at 06:00 sharp, we had the option of starting up to 15 minutes late to avoid the densest part of the bunch. I decided to start exactly 10 minutes late to make the mental arithmetic around pacing as easy as possible, while still avoiding the mad rush. Laurens started with me, but had divided loyalties. TA, who started about four minutes before us, wanted him to help her with pacing to secure a better seeding in another race. Laurens would start with me, then spend some time on the road with her on the first lap, then catch up with me on the second lap to finish together.

    On the official race documents, the route appears to be pancake-flat. There is a faint squiggle in the profile around the 10 km mark, but the total elevation difference is supposed to be less than 30 m. Of course, we would have to climb the hill twice, but overall it seemed quite manageable. I was somewhat alarmed when I saw the actual slopes around the stadium at the start venue. They had seemed so benign on paper!

    The first 10 km was quite comfortable. I maintained my 6:00/km pace very easily, with my breathing in good shape and no sign of discomfort (apart from the normal slight nagging pain in my left knee). The hill after 10 km was a lot worse than envisaged, but I ran halfway up it and walked the remainder without getting behind schedule. The road was badly potholed in places. It was hard to tell if the recent lavish rains had anything to do with it, or whether the municipality is having trouble coping. I completed the first lap on time and in a fairly relaxed state. There was one major problem. None of the water points had any caffeine-free drinks. Running a full marathon on water only is not a great idea. Enquiries at every water point drew very cavalier responses. These amateur comedians did not seem to realise the seriousness of the situation. There was some food at a few water points, but everything had been consumed by the time I tackled the second lap. Also, somehow, some undulating terrain had sprung up in the mean time. The hill at 10 km became a monstrous cliff at 31 km. Around this time, I was forced to resort to my 4+1 survival strategy. My average pace slipped from 6:00 to about 7:10. With 10 km to go, I would eat up about 10 minutes, and miss the 4:20 cutoff. The last part would be slightly downhill, so I still had a chance to catch up those three precious minutes. I consumed my emergency ration gel packet, hoping to replenish the glycogen stores before it was too late.

    Laurens caught me around 30 km. We stayed together for a while, but eventually he sailed off into the distance. Around 36 km, I saw him up ahead walking up a hill with Jonathan, who was aiming for a 4:30 finish. I ran past them, by this time not in a conversational mood.

    Also around 36 km, my knee started hurting. I think the fatigue caused me to neglect my alignment ever so slightly. Over the past year, I have concentrated on alignment on almost every step I have taken, and managed to stay out of trouble. Now, my glucose-deprived brain wasn't coping with several tasks at once. I eventually decided that there was no prospect of making 4:20, and started walking, concentrating on my alignment with every step. I was able to restrict the pain to a tolerable level.

    Jonathan passed me around 37 km, apparently in good shape. Laurens caught me soon after. He walked with me for a while, then started running. It didn't last. I walked behind him for about a quarter of an hour, then caught him. Both of us were reserved to walking painfully to the finish. After about an hour of walking, we finally walked into the stadium. Both of us experienced a first—walking all the way around the track to the finish line. Most athletes finish in a valiant sprint, regardless of condition. We didn't even care.

    Laurens magnanimously offered to collect the car and bring it a bit closer. I parked under a tree and relaxed. The plan didn't quite work out. They were only able to get the car to a point a few hundred metres away. TA came to call me, and I painfully hobbled back to the car.

    And so ended my Comrades hopes. Although we officially qualified at around 4:57, I came nowhere near my target time of 4:20. As I write this story, about seven hours after the finish, the worst stiffness seems to have subsided, and I expect to be in reasonable shape within a day or two. I guess I achieved half of my objective. The other half? Not even close.

    Of course I'm profoundly disappointed. I'm also trying to figure out what went wrong. Everything worked as advertised up to about 30 km. Did the lack of sugary drinks do me in? Did the head cold that dogged me for several weeks make a difference? Did missing those cross-training sessions in that period leave me hopelessly underprepared? Did the three hours on my feet on Saturday, handing out water to runners in the Sunrise Monster, do me in? Or that painful rehabilitation session on Wednesday, that left me with sore calf muscles on Thursday and Friday? Or perhaps, would stretching the target pace to 6:15/km for an exact 4:20 finish have helped to make the effort more sustainable?

    Right now I have no idea. I do know one thing: My short-distance performance does not extrapolate well to longer distances, pointing to a profound lack of endurance. Presumably, the Comrades would exaggerate that effect even more. Staying at home is definitely the more prudent option. Everything has its upside, though. Maybe I can now finally get around to trying some triathlons. Without the pressure of a Comrades training programme, I can probably tackle a few of these in the next few months. At least swimming and riding a bike won't tax my knee the way running obviously does!

    The Good: I actually finished a marathon with my plastic knee!

    The Bad: No caffeine-free drinks. Nothing to eat on the second lap. Bad standup comedy instead of sensible responses to enquiries.

    The Ugly: I'm clearly not Comrades material.

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    Tuks Bestmed Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-02-18 at 06:00

    Goal: 21,1 km at 5:32/km

    I was a little apprehensive about this race. It came at the end of a gruelling fortnight of training, and the 32 km of the previous weekend had not entirely relinquished its grip on my legs. In addition, I'd been suffering from a cold for several days. I woke up several times during the night, having to blow my nose to restore normal breathing. The ritual also involved copious amounts of Vitamin C. Fortunately, by the time I had to get up and decide, I had neither fever nor any chest symptoms.

    The half marathon started at 06:00, with the 10 km race starting half an hour later. The field was huge. It's hard to estimate, but I would think that the starting bunch was at least 200 m long and took up the entire width of the suburban street, just outside the Tuks sports grounds. The new mayor was there to say a few words about how healthy this lifestyle is. He wasn't wearing a tie and didn't come in a convoy of black cars with blue lights. Not bad for a politician.

    Laurens and I started about a quarter down the bunch. We started moving almost immediately at the gun and lost only a minute in the first km. Perhaps the separate start for the 10 km race dispensed with the worst slow starters that normally frequent the front part of the bunch.

    A few hundred metres into the race, we crossed Jan Shoba into Burnett Street. This section is quite a thrill. It is reasonably flat, and the entire width of this major one-way arterial is available to the bunch. Despite the huge number of runners, we were mostly free to run unhindered at our own pace. The route continues in a straight line down Park Street, passing Loftus stadium before turning left into the leafy outskirts of old Sunnyside. A mild uphill section follows, routing back past the stadium and into the Tuks campus. I was amazed to see how much more densely the campus has been built up since my full-time student days.

    The 10 km mark is at the start venue, but we continued eastwards on Lynnwood Road for the second part of the figure-eight route.

    While the first half was reasonably flat and fast, the second half scales the dizzy heights of Strubenkop before descending into the university's old experimental farm. The slopes of Strubenkop are leafy and pleasant, but there is nothing pleasant about those hills. Up there on the lofty heights, I ran with Mandy and Stephan for a while. On the descent, Stephan disappeared into the distance, with Mandy remaining in view, but not within reach. As is his habit, Laurens shot past from behind on the downhill section, never to be seen again.

    When I entered the second half, I had made up about half of the minute that we lost at the start. Everything went downhill (huh!?) from there. My deficit gradually grew to over two minutes as we started the descent, shrinking to under two on the final flat section. My breathing was comfortable and I was feeling reasonably strong, but my legs were definitely limiting on my abilities towards the end. I had to queue for about a minute in the last few metres before the actual finish line. It didn't look like the timekeepers were taking account of the delay—it will be interesting to see whether my official time will be 1:58 (when I joined the queue) or 1:59 (when I actually crossed the line). The mess was so unnecessary, as they had plenty of alternative finish lanes that they could have opened.

    My club didn't repeat its stellar performance of the previous weekend. Although the tent provided a welcome haven, I had to make do with water.

    Laurens, TA and I walked back to my car about half an hour after the finish. That was the easy part. For the next 50 minutes, we sat still in gridlocked traffic before finally making it back to Jan Shoba. Two kilometres in 50 minutes—that's not even 3 km/h! No help from the metro police to help the traffic into the main routes was in evidence.

    The butterflies around the upcoming marathon have definitely not subsided. The thought of having to cover twice this distance is not a comfortable one just yet. However, the progress in the past few weeks is gratifying, and my plastic knee is no more painful than it has been. The training now winds down into tapering mode. Hopefully, arriving at the start well-rested will make all the difference.

    The Good: Good marshalling, enough caffeine-free drinks, varied route, lots of T-shirts.

    The Bad: Those hills in the second half. The queue at the finish line.

    The Ugly: Sitting in traffic for almost an hour to get out of the neighbourhood.

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    Bronkhorstspruit 32 km, Saturday 2017-02-11 at 06:00

    Goal: 32 km at 5:41/km

    I woke up at 03:00, and had some trouble falling asleep again. Maybe I was subconsciously a little tenser than I allowed myself to admit. The alarm clock at 04:30 came as a horrible shock. Laurens picked me up. PJ found us in the bunch. He'd gone separately, and just made it before the start.

    The start was a little slow. The race's status as a League race must have attracted more than the normal share of entrants. It took about a minute to cross the start line, and we lost another minute before the 1 km distance marker. The race initially meanders through the town, before leaving town to the north and then climbing relentlessly in a westerly direction. For some reason, I encountered a string of familiar faces today; Paul, Kobus, David, Jonathan, Brian, Vasilios and Harry all came and went. Laurens, as is his custom, shot ahead from the start. As is our custom, we caught him on the uphills, and watched him boisterously shooting past on the downhills. I was initially a little uncomfortable with some stiffness from the week's training, but loosened up nicely after an hour or so.

    There was noticeably less banter than on most Saturdays. I'm not sure about the others, but I know in my case the knowledge of what lay ahead helped to maintain my focus. Tacking more than 10 km onto the end of a half marathon changes its character completely.

    A 32 km run takes a lot of time, at least for us normal folks. The result is that the race continues into the heat of day. This time, the temperature rose into the twenties well before the halfway mark. The longest climb is from about 22 to 29 km, just before entering the Buddhist temple complex. Making our way up this climb was very sweaty work. I ran until about 17 km, then indulged in a one-minute walk every 1 km or so. The strategy worked reasonably well until about 29 km. After that point, no strategy seemed to work. It's just an awfully long way. At least the surroundings were interesting. The temple compound features Chinese street names and an interesting mixture of architectures. I even had the odd opportunity to practice my Chinese reading skills. I did my customary 4+1 thing for the last 2 km or so, completing the last km strongly. I managed to pass perhaps two dozen runners on the grass in the stadium. The route seemed to be a bit long (perhaps 300 m or so), but not enough to account for the few minutes that I was late. At least my time was below 3:12, which is equivalent to 6:00/km.

    I was also gratified at watch many of my peers finishing after me. Almost three years of hard work and painful rehabilitation are starting to yield dividends!

    I was very stiff and sore, but despite finishing slightly faster, I felt much better than on my previous 32 km attempt. This race also came at the end of a hard training week, with a 16 km fast tempo run, about 10 km of intervals and an 800 m swim. There is still a long way to go before I can complete a marathon at this pace. But at least I have several weeks left to grow into it... The coming week is still going to be tough, with several high-intensity sessions but somewhat shorter distances. Thereafter things start winding down before the marathon. I can hardly wait. It will be nice to shed this chronic muscle fatigue and knee pain, even if only for a few weeks.

    The Good: Good marshalling, interesting route. A variety of caffeine-free drinks at my club tent.

    The Bad: Those two climbs. The heat. No green cooldrink at the last two water points.

    The Ugly: The thought of having to do 10 km more at this pace within a month...

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    Bidvest McCarthy Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-02-04 at 06:00

    Goal: 24 km at 5:41/km

    I didn't have a good night before the race. I left the office at 22:00 after working on an urgent document. Once home, I could not find my 2017 licence numbers. I could swear I'd left them with my vest, but they were nowhere to be found. I spent almost half an hour searching everywhere I could think of. I finally settled into bed not much before midnight. At 01:29, Evangelist Adrian elected to send me a text message soliciting a donation. At 04:30, the alarm clock shattered my somewhat fragmented sleep.

    Have I mentioned that I'm not a morning person? That fact is central to this particular story. There are things that are hard to phrase delicately at the best of times, but let's try: Waking up this early has devastating effects on the functioning of my "dump" button.

    PJ did not manage to enter timeously for the half marathon. Here is another case of technology not making life any easier, but rather imposing ridiculous constraints. Entries closed a week before the race because they were using some fancy timing chip, embedded into the number. With no other choice, he entered the 10 km race with the intention to miss the turning. The only disadvantage would be an unbelievably slow official time for his 10 km race.

    I resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to buy a temporary licence, but at the entry table, I fortunately found my numbers in the small bag containing my identity cards that I always carry with me. The gossamer numbers took up very little space, and I just had not noticed them before. At the start line, the announcer took great pains to point out that pirate runners attempting the half marathon with 10 km numbers would be weeded out mercilessly. PJ appeared ever so slightly anxious about these threats. My recollection of the merciless climb in the last 3 km was contradicted by Laurens, who was adamant that the last section was ultra-flat.

    The start was not bad by recent standards. Despite the large field, there was enough space and things were soon flowing nicely. We lost less than a minute on the first km. After a flat westbound section on Soutpansberg Road, we headed uphill across the mountain. From here on, there was an almost continuous climb all the way to the Presidency, a stretch of about 3 km. A left turn into Colbyn was followed by a descent into Queenswood. At one point, two guys in a bakkie tried to turn left through the line of runners from behind. I politely but firmly told them off. I later realised that it must have been the lead vehicle for the 10 km race, which had started some 10 minutes behind us! It is amazing, though, that he thought he could safely turn through a line of hundreds of runners from behind, without making himself visible first.

    The remainder of the race winds through the Moot area. The terrain is only slightly undulating, gradually descending over a stretch of more than 10 km. The customary light banter in the field and a geology lesson about the Vredefort dome relieved the monotony. Unfortunately, there was something else that was less monotonous than I would have preferred. My lunch from the previous day was causing me a significant amount of discomfort. By 12 km, I was getting desperate. At the next water point, I ducked off into the rental toilet to see if I could improve matters. Laurens had already disappeared up the field, and I suggested to PJ that he should continue. I'd try to catch up later. I spent about two minutes staring intently at the green plastic door before tackling the remainder of the route.

    PJ backtracked to come and collect me, and we continued to gradually catch up on schedule. Around the 18 km, we hit a sudden steep climb onto the railway bridge. Despite Laurens's assurances, this steep climb was followed by a gradual 3 km climb to the finish. There must have been something wrong with the distance markers, as I was expecting to finish about a minute behind schedule. In reality, I finished almost two minutes ahead of schedule, under 1:59.

    Now came the hard part: the remaining 3 km. Convincing yourself to start another vigorous run after a brisk half marathon and a few minutes to stiffen up is never easy. I got some water from the club tent—no cooldrink without caffeine was available anywhere. I then started up a gradual incline, struggling to maintain the required pace. I headed up the infamous Tom Jenkins Drive, fortunately not in the infamous direction. Once I got going properly, it wasn't too bad. Nevertheless, I lost about a minute off my planned pace.

    Including the two breaks, we were about two minutes late. I was happy; it seemed good enough at the end of a tough training week. However, the thought of 32 km at this same pace next week scares me. And the thought of an entire marathon at an even faster pace in a few weeks leaves me speechless...

    The Good: Good marshalling by experienced runners, including some familiar faces.

    The Bad: No cooldrinks except Coke. That lead vehicle driver who sneaks up on runners from behind and then expects them to part miraculously, like the Red Sea.

    The Ugly: That Friday lunch...

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    Wonderpark Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-01-28 at 05:30

    Goal: 32 km at 5:51/km

    Because of the full marathon on offer, this race starts extra early. If I wanted to do 5,5 km beforehand, I would have to be in position around 05:00. And I am not a morning person.

    PJ had other commitments. Laurens was getting back into running after his injury, and was planning to do the half marathon at a slightly slower pace than I was. He agreed to pick me up at 04:30. He deposited me at the agreed point just after 05:00. I started a few minutes later than planned. Unfortunately, I missed a turnoff and ran halfway up a steep hill before realising my mistake. I arrived at the race start about five minutes late, but with about a km more than planned already in the bag.

    There was a price to pay for my tardiness. Although the start was utterly uncongested, with only a few other latecomers running with me, we soon started overtaking the bunch from behind. For the remainder of the race, I ran into increasingly dense bunches. Towards the end, I encountered the kind of congestion that I normally only see at the start. It is amazing to see what a difference a five minute delay makes! The congestion was aggravated by the 10 km runners, who started half an hour after we did and shared the same route for the last 4 km or so. We arrived with the slowest finishers, and they were taking up a lot of space.

    We had perfect running weather. It was overcast and everything was slightly wet from the previous night's rain. We had occasional light drizzle, but never enough to get us completely wet. I overtook a few clubmates early on, and around the halfway mark I started encountering some of my customary running peers—Erika, Raynold, Ken, Wallie, Lammie and Iain all came into view around the halfway mark. To my surprise, Iain is now in Irene club colours, after 32 years as a Phobian. Perhaps the time is now ripe for him to spill the beans on what he was so fearful of for all those years.

    The race course is undulating, meandering through the neighbourhood with occasional glimpses of the leading bunch up a side street. There is one nasty surprise: A steep uphill onto the freeway bridge about 1 km from the end. Fortunately, it wasn't a surprise to me, as I'd been punished by that one before. I finished about half a minute behind schedule, close enough for my purposes. Officially, I just missed 2:10, due to the late start.

    The run back to the garage where I had started was a grim struggle for survival. On the way in, I had the impression that I was running uphill. I remember thinking that at least my return to the car would be downhill. Somehow, things changed during the race, as the return route also felt very much like uphill! I used my customary 4+1 survival strategy, and managed to maintain it all the way to the end. Including both breaks, necessitated by having to pass through the busy shopping mall before and after the race, I completed the 32 km in 3:11, a personal best. It's a little slower than target pace, but I'm happy that things are on track for a marathon in little more than a month.

    The Good: Well-organised race, with effective marshalling and even Cream Soda. Undulating terrain without extreme slopes. Almost keeping to my target pace for an unimaginable distance.

    The Bad: The running bus that insisted on taking up the entire width of the suburban streets, making it all but impossible to pass. Just a little consideration would help a lot!

    The Ugly: That haul up the bridge, with less than 1 km to go. Getting up at 04:30. Eish.

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    George Claassen Memorial Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-01-21 at 06:00

    Goal: 24 km at 5:41/km

    PJ and I formed up in the middle of the bundle to tackle this hilly route, with another 3 km afterwards to complete the target distance. The race starts and ends at the Pick and Pay Hypermarket in Faerie Glen.

    The start was very slow, with a large field in a small road. It was fun to watch the colourful field snake up the road ahead, as far as the eye could see. Unfortunately, the sight came at a price. It took more than a minute to cross the start line, and the first km was a combination of walking and jogging while trying to negotiate the slow traffic. The walkers had started half an hour before, so this slow traffic consisted entirely of people pretending to run.

    By the end of the first km, we were almost three minutes behind schedule. The succession of serious hills in the next few km didn't help. We walked up most of the serious hills and ran most of the flat and downhill bits. By the time the 10 km runners split off to their finish, we were still almost two minutes behind.

    The second half of the route consisted of an out-and-back loop to the sponsors' offices near Menlyn, with rolling hills but none of the major slopes of the first half. We managed to slowly whittle away at the deficit, until we were less than a minute behind schedule with 3 km to go. We managed to complete the last 3 km in less than 15 minutes, finishing within seconds of our planned time.

    Of course, the hardest part was yet to come. Having collected our medals and a drink, we now had to complete the last 3 km of our prescribed session. Alas, the fast finish provided all the rationalisation we could ever ask for. Surely maintaining our pace on such a hilly course, and after such a slow start, was above and beyond the call of duty?

    And so we enjoyed the hospitality of our club tent and slowly wound our way home.

    Having collected my car, I went on a routine shopping spree in the Hypermarket. Or maybe not quite routine—almost half of the clients around me sported running gear, mostly with medals around their necks. Other shoppers, who were dressed like real people, had lots of questions about the race. It was clear that they didn't seem to think that running up and down those hills and then all the way to Menlyn and back was normal...

    The Good: Good organisation, marshalling and water points. A large field with a festive atmosphere.

    The Bad: A congested start. One of the water points could not offer caffeine-free drinks.

    The Ugly: Those hills. Do we really have to traverse every single precipice in the neighbourhood?

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    Eersterus ACE Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-01-14 at 06:00

    Goal: 32 km at 5:51/km

    Laurens was out of action with a muscle injury, so I was going to have to face this gargoyle alone.

    I left my car just off the N4 highway, just over 5 km from the start. I left the car at 05:30, hoping to arrive as the gun went. It worked. I heard the gun just as I arrived, but the bunch wasn't where I was expecting it. Unlike previous years, we started on a side street, winding through the neighbourhood before rejoining the main road.

    Eersterus has a unique feature. The three main roads are called Hans Coverdale Road West, Hans Coverdale Road North and Hans Coverdale Road East. The route would roughly follow Hans Coverdale Road West going north, then Hans Coverdale Road North going east, and then Hans Coverdale Road East going south, before turning west to return to Hans Coverdale Road West for the second lap. Got it?

    It being a League race, the bunch was bigger than most. Because of the small suburban roads we started on, the start was terribly slow and congested. It took a long time for the bunch to spread out sufficiently to allow unobstructed running—as much as 3 km. As we all know, it is customary for the slowest walkers to start in front, forcing the rest of us to pick our way past them. I think it's a selfless ploy to help all of us to develop true character.

    By the time I was running freely, I was over four minutes behind schedule. I was determined to make up the time, but it was not to be. With the slow walkers out of the way, the hills started harassing us. Somewhere around Hans Coverdale Road Far-Northwest, we climbed up a hill, and another, and another. We ended up in aptly-named Helium Avenue before tackling the descent into the valley again, via Hans Coverdale Road Kinda-Central and then Hans Coverdale Road East into Hans Coverdale Road More-Or-Less-South. Most of this remaining route was a slight descent, providing welcome relief before the second lap started.

    The bunch was noticeably quieter than we are accustomed to. I soon figured out that members of the organising club ACE, Athletics Club Eersterus, were quite often the source of the lively banter in local races. This time, they were the marshals. The unusually chirpy marshals and roadside crowds handsomely made up for the lack of yellow and red vests in the field. Many families parked themselves by the roadside on walls, chairs and lawns and cheered us on.

    We turned right from Hans Coverdale Road Way-Down-South into the stadium to finish with half a lap on the grass of Hans Coverdale Road Round-and-Round. In a true stroke of genius, they handed out a half-litre of aQuelle water with the medals. A very welcome gesture!

    My Club tent featured fruit jelly and custard, of which I slurped up two cups before proceeding back to my car. I noticed that many cars were queueing to get out of there, just like we had done in previous years. Those feeder roads are definitely not up to the demands of a major sporting event!

    I walked briskly while sipping my precious water. It took a long time to empty the bottle, and I had covered 2 km by the time I managed to toss it into a bin. The rest of the route was spent running four lampposts and then walking one. Right towards the end, as I approached my car up a steep incline, it turned into a three-plus-one affair—a matter of survival. Halfway up the hill I passed a familiar car coming the other way. My friend Alet had mentioned the previous day that she would be in the area, and I had assured her that I would be back at my car by 08:50, having covered the required 6 km after the race. I didn't make it, and she came looking for me. I valiantly waved her on, determined to get back to the car on my own steam, even if it was the last thing I did.

    My first leg, from the car to the race, went exactly as planned. During the race, I never did make up those four minutes I'd lost after the slow start. In fact, on the second lap the deficit grew slightly. The return to the car was much slower than planned, what with drinking the water and generally just walking a bit more than I should have. I wish I had a good model to figure out the effect of the hills. Was my performance equivalent to my target pace over a flat route? Or am I a hopeless couch potato? Or did I in fact excel superhumanly, given the horrible hills? Who knows, but at least I covered my planned 32 km and lived to tell the tale.

    The Good: It was a welcome change to have real runners handling the race. Marshalling was first-class, they had Cream Soda at all the tables, and the bottle of water at the finish was a nice touch. The lively local roadside support was "interesting". My own Club's idea to provide a sugar shot after the race in the form of jelly was a great one.

    The Bad: That slow start on small suburban streets. Those hills. The traffic jam trying to get out of there.

    The Ugly: That last uphill to my car. But that was hardly the race organisers' fault.

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    A4A Eco-Park Half Marathon, Saturday 2017-01-07 at 06:30

    Goal: 29 km at 5:51/km

    The plan was almost a repetition of the previous one. Same venue, slightly shorter training run, slightly faster. I was upbeat about this session, as I'd completed my Thursday sprint session exactly on schedule. It was a nice change after several weeks of struggling to stick to the plan.

    This time, we backtracked the route to the start, running through the start bunch to complete a 5 km run before the race. After the race, we would simply return to the car via the race route, for another 3 km.

    We started at 06:02 in pouring rain. Again, Laurens was taking it a little easier than I was, and arrived at the start line somewhat after me. We continued with a long loop behind the starting bunch, returning to the bunch at 06:32 for the start. Again, they started more than four minutes late. The bunch was much smaller than in December, presumably due to the pouring rain. There is no doubt that anyone with a sound sense of self-preservation would be safely tucked up in bed!

    I was initially very careful to avoid the puddles, but about a km into the race, the road was flooded to a depth that submerged my shoes and socks all the way. Beyond this point, trying to avoid getting wet was kind-of senseless.

    The first loop was routine, although traffic was more of a problem than during the December race. Presumably, some people had returned home after New Year. Most runners seemed more savvy, generally keeping right except to briefly cross the road for water and nourishment. I ran mostly alone, chatting for only a few minutes with Neville and Iain and a stranger who had just returned to running after having twins.

    The second lap presented a new quirk. The loop that was supposed to adjust the second lap to the correct half-marathon distance suddenly proceeded almost 250 m further than in December, all the way to the end of Oak Avenue. The route suddenly became much longer than before. Accordingly, all the remaining distance markers suddenly popped up over half a km too far.

    At times, the rain let up, allowing weak sunshine through the clouds. It was exquisitely pleasant running weather, marred somewhat by the flooding on the road and the wet socks. The finish in the shopping centre was displaced somewhat to provide the medal handlers with shelter against the rain, leaving the route only slightly too long.

    I had not seen Laurens since early in the first lap. He usually cruises past somewhere in the second lap with contemptuous ease, so I was somewhat worried. I continued the short run to the car, arriving only a few minutes later than planned. Laurens was already there—he had decided to quit after the first lap due to a niggling leg injury. We sat down to a Wimpy breakfast—any other adjective is both unnecessary and probably inappropriate.

    Again, I was pretty happy. The first sector and the race had gone exactly according to plan. The return to the car was a little slow, but within reason. It looks like I may actually successfully complete the Marathon training programme that I'm busy with! I was greatly relieved that the wet socks did not cause any damage to my feet.

    The Good: This time, even the arriving traffic was light. Pouring rain does have its advantages. The absence of less-experienced runners also improved the coexistence with traffic on the race route.

    The Bad: The water points had not improved. Because of the change in the loop on the second lap, distance markers were even more confused than before. The rain caused a few niggles, including bad chafing on my stomach where the running vest had grated into my flesh...

    The Ugly: As expected, the officials had paid no heed to the suggested improvements. Sigh...

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    2016 Races

    A4A Eco-Park Half Marathon, Saturday 2016-12-24 at 06:30

    Goal: 32 km at 6:00/km

    My running partner Laurens and I left my car at Highveld Wimpy, to work in a run before and after the race. Having to return to the car provides a strong incentive to do the after-race run, something that is always sorely (sic) needed after crossing the finish line.

    The car was left around the 3 km mark on the 10 km circular route. We planned to do 7 km before the race along the normal route, arriving at the start line when the starting gun went, completing the full race and then returning to the car following the race route, including a loop that would bring us up to the required 32 km.

    We left the car at 05:48 as planned, making our way to the start at a gentle pace. Laurens preferred to start more slowly than I did. I noticed that officials were setting up the water point on the wrong side of Nellmapius, forcing runners to cross the busy traffic twice. In previous years, I've witnessed the effects, and it is not a pretty picture. I stopped to chat to the foreman, trying to convince him to rather set up the water point to the right of the road, but he was adamant that this was the way they have always done it. As my previous begging and grovelling on the topic had gone unheeded, I did not spend much time trying to convince him.

    I arrived at the rear end of the starting pack at 06:32 exactly as planned. After an unwelcome two-minute wait, the start gun went. Laurens, being somewhat behind me, had no delay at all. I soon found clubmate Wanja and continued with light-hearted banter all the way around the first lap. The race undulates through Highveld Park before hitting a sustained 3 km climb up Nellmapius Drive. Fortunately, traffic was relatively light, but some runners crossed the road to run on the left rather than facing the traffic as self-preservation and the Road Traffic Regulations prescribe. The result was that oncoming traffic had to pass between two groups of runners, leaving too little space for comfort.

    The weather was cool and comfortable. The second lap was somewhat less harrowing on the climb, as the more experienced 21 km runners mostly stayed on the right, only crossing the road twice to reach the badly-placed water point.

    After the climb, there is a right turn followed by a meander through Eco Park, finishing with a gentle descent and a loop through the Eco Boulevard shopping centre. The distance seemed fairly accurate and I managed to finish exactly on schedule. Laurens had been waiting for me for a minute or two.

    After collecting our medals and having a quick drink, we continued the 4 km return to the car. I was on my last legs, and walked some of the way. I arrived at the Wimpy about 10 minutes behind schedule. I was happy; I had covered this unimaginable distance mostly according to plan, and was no more than slightly sore.

    The Good: The race is run over undulating terrain with relatively little traffic. The start and finish venue is adequate, with enough parking.

    The Bad: The water points are all placed on the left, forcing runners to either cross the traffic (twice!) or run with the traffic approaching from behind. There was a traffic jam of arriving runners, as the Eco Park has limited access. Some water points did not have a choice other than water and Coke, leaving non-caffeine users high and dry. Distance markers were mostly out by between 100 and 300 m. Even without a GPS it was evident that there was a problem, as the last few markers showed the 10 km distance markers before the corresponding Half Marathon markings (e.g. 9 km before 20 km), rather than after as one would expect based on basic geometry.

    The Ugly: The officials apparently have limited exposure to running, and are openly hostile to suggestions. Hubris and ignorance are an unfortunate combination!

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    2015 Races

    Castle Walk 10 km, Monday 2015-08-10

    Goal: Survive

    This report initially appeared in the Club newsletter.

    Mondayís race at Castle Walk was favoured by much more tolerable temperatures (around 8įC). The start was a bit sudden, with a completely unannounced gunshot, but flowed well.

    The route was very hilly, dropping several hundred metres from Castle Walk to the back of Hatfield church. The second half was a steady climb. I discovered that I am definitely allergic to concrete. Every time we ended up on concrete in the second half, I was suddenly and inexplicably unable to run, and had to resort to walking.

    Traffic presented a problem at some points. I personally witnessed a Golf speeding down a road with hundreds of runners at around 60 km/h, approaching the runners from behind. Numerous runners expressed their displeasure, so maybe this driver will be more careful in future...

    This time, Wanja lagged behind on the second half, but Cecile came steaming past about 1 km from the finish. I would imagine both of us shaved some seconds off our time, with virtually a dead heat. Is this a conspiracy? Do these young women gather in dark rooms to plan this stuff? Is it personal, or is it just contempt of all aging men in general?

    The Good: If you're looking for terrain to do some hill training, you can't do much better than this one!

    The Bad: I didnít need a fancy GPS watch to find fault with the kilometre markers—there were none.

    The Ugly: I was starting to enjoy the new-found ability to consistently run sub-hour 10 km races with my bionic knee. The hilly route put paid to that pattern, with a time not much below 1:05. Seems like thereís still some work to do!

    A4A Fountains Valley 10 km, Saturday 2015-08-08

    Goal: 10 km in under 1:00

    This report initially appeared (with Auto-Correct) in the Club newsletter.

    The Fountains race was a league race. The weather was ideal for fast times (which is the polite way of saying that the temperature was between 2 and 4įC).

    There was no start line, so participants gathered in the usual chaotic bundle. A race official was adamant that everyone had to get ďbehind the lineĒ, but had no suggestions to offer on where this elusive line might be found. As a result, the race started a few minutes late.

    Personally, this race was remarkable mainly for the fact that I was trying out a fancy GPS watch for the first time, so I could proceed with a tirade on how inaccurate the route markers were. Suffice to say, though, that the route was over 300 m short. I guess I shouldnít complain, as I knocked several minutes off my post-bionic best for 10 km.

    The first half of the 10 km route was uphill, almost to the top of Monument Hill. The second half, predictably, afforded an opportunity to accumulate spectacular splits back towards Fountains.

    Wanja again passed me about 1 km from the finish. This time, I could not keep up, but at least by trying I probably slashed a good few seconds off my time.

    The Good: Great weather for speedy running. A personal record for my plastic knee.

    The Bad: The race was marred by bad marshalling on several fronts. The worst was that the 10/21 split was not well labelled. There was a piece of corrugated cardboard on which someone had scribbled ď10Ē in ballpoint pen, but no arrow or other directional marking. To compound the problem, the marshals at this point did not seem to know the difference between ďleftĒ and ďrightĒ. As a result, many runners apparently took the wrong turn at this point, either running too far or finding themselves back at the finish line much too soon. There were also droves of people turning prematurely on the out-and-back route, knocking several km off their run and presumably gathering great points for their clubs. No marshals were anywhere to be seen.

    The Ugly: At least the chief marshal was driving a fancy BMW X6 with vanity plates, so it seems like A4A knows more about making money than about organising races!

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    PMMC Memorial 10 km, Saturday 2015-05-09

    Goal: 10 km in under 1:00

    This report initially appeared in the Club newsletter.

    The annual Jackie Mekler 25 km race was held on Saturday. As is customary, the Pretoria Military Marathon Club hosted the 10 km PMMC Memorial Race at the same venue. 25 km is a little beyond my scope at this moment, but I decided to tackle the 10 km race in a valiant effort to contribute to my clubís League standings.

    As you can imagine, these races are organised with military precision. The first manifestation of this precision was the way in which the cutoff date for pre-entries was almost two weeks before the race. Someone such as myself who is too low in Maslowís pyramid to plan months ahead is just plain out of luck when it comes to pre-entries. I assume this strategy is specifically designed to encourage ďsleg siwwiesĒ to get up early.

    Fortunately, my erstwhile running buddy Laurens had a spare number, so I didnít have to get up military-early.

    Another visible aspect of military precision is the fact that they organised the race to coincide with a major air show at Swartkop Air Force Base. In an especially creative move, the race route passes right in front of the Baseís main entrance. How creative: Closing the road directly in front of the main entrance just when the show is about to start!

    The net result was a massive traffic jam. We left my car about 2 km from the start and made our way to the start on foot. We just barely made it with enough time to place our bags in a trailer, as a convenient take-away for someone less privileged.

    The start was less chaotic than some, as we filled up from the back. As is the way of our people, the slowest walkers always start in front, with runners having to negotiate a maze of near-stationary objects for the first 2 km or so. I passed the start line at 1:40 and the first km marker at 8:50.

    After about 3 km, I passed first Marix and then Hennie. I berated both of them for being slower than the slowest guy in the Club (me), and encouraged them to speed up to earn more points for the Club. Little did I know what results my gift of encouragement would have.

    The first water point was not very visible, making it necessary to suddenly switch lanes in taxi-like fashion if you wanted a drink.

    Just before the halfway mark, I saw Wanja some distance ahead of me. As I know that she is also recovering from a sports injury, I decided to catch her—come hell or high water. I eventually did, but I was so spent that I could not even hold an intellectual conversation. I walked a few times to give my aching knee and my burning lungs a respite, and each time I had to catch her again.

    The undulating route passes through a residential neighbourhood and some countryside, so there were no serious traffic problems. The last 2 km stretch is slightly downhill, which is a welcome respite.

    I finished about 15 s behind Wanja in just under 1:02. At this rate, I may even break one hour again one day!

    I had to wait for Laurens to complete the 25 km, so I had a bit of time to watch the 25 km winners. The two leaders entered the stadium together. When they passed our club tent, they were shoulder to shoulder. However, the winner opened up a 50 m gap in the last 200 m, beating Shadrack Hoff into second place and the 40+ prize.

    The 2 km back to the car was not entirely effortless, but at least the stragglers had the distraction of watching formations of ancient warbirds flying overhead.

    During the afternoon, we had a Club committee meeting, at which I spoke to Hennie again. He told me that, shortly after my motivational talk, he had tried to pass some of the slow walkers by running on the sidewalk. The grass had recently been cut, but was still about 100 mm tall. Hennie suddenly found himself flat on his face. It turned out that a piece of cable was hidden in the grass, and his running shoe had come to a very firm and very sudden stop. I now call him Rolux Magnum.

    All things considered, an enjoyable race. However, the PMMC would do well to reconsider their decision to organise it on the same day as a military airshow, and to terminate pre-entries so early. Surely the Defence Sports Club and the Air Force Museum could hammer something out?

    The Good: A hilly route, great for someone who intends to run in mountains. Good marshalling. The Valhalla street names provide a great recap of Norse mythology.

    The Bad: Invisible water points, requiring sudden swerves unless you want to go thirsty. Pre-entries unbelievably early—Why?

    The Ugly: Huge traffic jams due to the nearby Air Show.

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    2013 Races

    Comrades Marathon 87 km, Sunday 2013-06-02 at 05:30

    Goal: Survive

    This report initially appeared in the Club newsletter.

    Let me start off by saying: Running long distances is not my cup of tea. I have a car. Even if I didnít, there is almost enough public transport available to get around without one. Besides, with running shoes costing more than car tyres, Iím not even sure that running is cheaper than driving.

    Add the fact that my legs are genetically ďdifferentĒ and that Iíve had a serious accident with multiple spinal fractures, and it should be clear that running Comrades doesnít come naturally to me.

    Comrades does have one (and probably only one) advantage. Preparing for Comrades is so time consuming that one can only barely fit the required amount of running into six months. One cannot afford to miss even one session. When the alarm clock explodes early on a cold Wednesday morning, you simply cannot afford to roll over and snatch another hour of sleep. Missing that one session may well scupper the entire project. So entering for Comrades imposes a level of self-discipline on one's training regimen that I sorely lack.

    It is for this reason that I entered for Comrades in November. Most of January and February were taken up with preparing for the Midmar Mile. Things went well, and I managed to complete the Mile in mid-February with little effort. I was quite pleased, as Iíd had to learn to swim almost from scratch a year before. When I started, I wasnít able to swim much more than 100 m uninterrupted. Comfortably swimming a mile in open water was a personal triumph.

    Because of the late start, and because conventional wisdom dictates a minimum of 800 km of preparation, I had to work hard to ramp up my training. I started with 30 km a week in January, increasing by 10% per week. I peaked with three heavy weeks in May, the heaviest one being over 100 km. I would then have three weeks to recover and accumulate some reserves before the Big Day. I resolved to postpone my final go/no-go decision to the end of the last heavy week. If I was able to get there uninjured, I would run Comrades.

    The training went more or less according to plan. A few niggles were handled with the help of my physiotherapist Toy, and I managed to survive the ramp-up period and the heavy weeks essentially intact. The final decision to go was taken just under two weeks before the big day.

    The tapering period provided some of the most enjoyable running Iíve ever experienced. The running was effortless. I was able to just enjoy the surroundings, and look forward to the rolling hills of KZN. Perhaps the most exhilarating runs were in Cape Town, running up Kloof Nek and down the west coast of the Peninsula with a sea breeze in my hair while the sun set over the Atlantic.

    My anticipation was spoiled somewhat by the weather forecast, which threatened 30įC weather with a strong northeasterly wind. At least the South African Weather Service was a little more optimistic, forecasting only 24įC. As the week wore on, though, it gradually joined the unanimous choir of doom of the other forecasting platforms.

    I drove down to KZN on Saturday. The Expo was a tedious affair, with more than an hour of queuing to get my numbers. After the compulsory pasta meal and a good night's rest, we arrived at the start line about half an hour before the start.

    I stood waiting for the start with an Alaskan runner. I had met Carole Holley in the guest house the night before. She is a regular hundred-miler, who was on tour in southern Africa. She hadnít run for six weeks, but at least the short distance would be well within her comfort zone. She almost regarded it as speed training. Carole was quite amazed by the ambience of the race though; the dramatic showbiz leading up to the start, the crowds by the roadside even an hour before sunrise, and the sheer numbers involved.

    The dramatic synthesiser music, the recorded fake cockerel and the gun went, and we were on our way. It took more than eight minutes to cross the start line. Up to that point we were shuffling slowly forward, shoulder to shoulder and right up against somebodyís back. After the start line, we broke into a gentle jog, mindful of the long day that lay ahead.

    The first stretch of almost 40 km consists of a gradual climb from sea level. Although folklore singles out three climbs in this section, there are at least six climbs that are as steep as Fields Hill, and even the first named climb, Cowieís Hill, concludes a continuous climb of 350 m. The top of Bothaís Hill is at 750 m, with almost half of the altitude being gained before Pinetown.

    As soon as the sun was up, the race became a sweaty affair. My own strategy was to arrive at the halfway cutoff as close as possible to the gun, to ensure that the first half would inflict the least possible damage.

    The second half was a separate exercise, with undulating hills but with almost no net climb. I planned to walk most of the uphills and to run most of the downhills to ensure that the average speed would remain high enough. The second half would have been a relatively easy marathon, were it not for the fact that one arrives there with more than a full marathon and a serious climb already on those weary legs.

    I made the halfway cutoff with four minutes to spare, within 30 seconds of my planned time. My pulse was down, my breathing was easy, but my legs were rather heavy. I could also feel that a major blister was forming on my right heel.

    I stopped just after the cutoff to collect my lunch from a colleague, and to do some work on that blister. After a short break, I continued up Inchanga. At its apex, everything was on track.

    Conditions were becoming quite unpleasant, though. Having emerged from the coastal plain, we were now being buffeted by a stiff breeze from the right, blowing sand into my nostrils and eyes and causing us to lean into the wind just to stay upright. It was almost like running on extreme camber. My knees and ankles were starting to complain.

    I had mastered four of the five hills, and all that remained was to alternate walking and running over the undulating terrain that lay ahead.

    On the first downhill, I was unable to start running. My legs simply would not obey. I was relaxed, my mind was clear, my breathing was easy and my heart rate was down, but the legs were completely disobedient. I decided to walk some more, and resume the running on the next downhill. Unfortunately, the experience was exactly the same. I could continue to walk relatively easily, but running was simply not an option.

    With 34 km to go, some distance before the next cutoff, I made my calculations and realised that it was too late. I would be able to make the next two cutoffs relatively easily, but there was no way that I would finish inside the 12 hour limit. With my joints complaining slightly, I decided to get into the Bus of Shame.

    It was a hard decision, but actually catching the dreaded Bus was even harder. I sat with a group of stragglers, watching as one bus after another passed us. They were all fully loaded. We were sitting in the glaring sun, with nothing to drink. When the last runner and the sweep vehicle passed us, we realised that we would have to start walking. So we did.

    We eventually got to the next water point, where we talked a course official into allowing us onto his bakkie. Sitting cramped with a dozen others is unpleasant, especially on tender legs. The ambience was enhanced even further by one of the other runners who was constantly at the point of vomiting. We tried to mix him a drink, using rehydration powder that I was carrying, some tepid water that he had and a nausea-prevention pill belonging to one of the other runners.

    At some point, the officialís bakkie was prevented from continuing on the course, and we got off. We kept looking for another means of transport. Again, all the buses were full. It appeared that there had been so many withdrawals and even medical emergencies that the transport system was completely overwhelmed. Bus after bus passed us, with not a single open seat. We heard stories of hundreds of stragglers behind us, all waiting for a bus.

    At this point, I saw something that made me perk up. A large red bus was approaching. I recognised it as the CSIRís rented bus. A few dozen of my colleagues had volunteered to man the refreshment station just after the half-way mark. They had cleaned up their station not long after Iíd passed, and were now on their way to the finish. I lay down in the road to force them to stop. They did, and picked me up along with half a dozen other casualties. My colleagues were very gracious. They did not show any signs of derision and loathing, and even allowed us to sit down while they stood in the aisles.

    I have to admit that the CSIR bus is a much better choice than The Bus. The atmosphere was festive, and we exchanged banter while watching the remaining athletes slogging it out. Many times, bus passengers would recognise a club mate or colleague and cheer loudly to urge them on. There was also air conditioning, something that didnít hurt under those conditions. Most of all, the brooding silence that characterises The Bus was not there.

    For the next hour and a half, we continued along the Comrades route. I saw many of the runners that Iíd run with earlier in the day. Unfortunately, many of them were not going to make it. Being equipped with pre-calculated pace charts and hours of prior poring over route profiles, I kept calculating the pace that would be required to make the cutoff, and it was evident that most of the runners we were passing would not make the grade. Going up Polly Shortts, most of the athletes showed grim determination to keep moving, but most of them were too late. A particularly poignant experience was slowly passing Sibusiso Sibisi, the President of the CSIR, who was valiantly making his way up the dreaded hill, but who was not going to make the cutoff. I'm not sure if he even realised that the bright-red bus with the dark windows contained dozens of his subjects.

    Only after the Polly Shortts cutoff did we start thinking that the runners now plodding around the bus would actually stand a chance. With mostly downhill and with modest pace requirements, most of them would end up wearing a medal by the end of the day.

    We got to the stadium shortly after the cutoff gun. Some looked for medical attention, while I went to find the Mat of Shame to register the fact that I had withdrawn. I found my colleagues near the finish and heard tales of triumph and disappointment. My boss had finished in 8:39. I realised that, even though it was a weekend, I had managed to fulfil my obligation to make my boss look good.

    What went wrong? Conditions were difficult, but they do not provide the full answer. I have no certain answers, but there is one thing that may have played a role. Because Iíd started training fairly late, I had to run some heavy weeks towards the end, just to make my target of 800 km of training. It is possible that the unaccustomed heavy weeks inflicted too much damage, and that I had not fully recovered by the time the race started.

    What about next year? I really donít want to run distances like this again. However, if I do tempt myself into enrolling again, Iíll certainly have to start earlier. Maybe a few more months will allow me leeway to take my last few weeks a little easier, and to arrive at the start with a fresher pair of legs.

    We'll see. Right now Comrades sounds like too much running to my liking, but I definitely have a feeling that it constitutes unfinished business. Perhaps once the intensity of pain and disappointment has faded a little from my memory, I'll allow myself to be talked into it again. We'll see.

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