WGEL comrades do The Comrades

Three of our members recently travelled to South Africa to participate in the famous 89K (55 miles) Comrades Marathon. This is a race which alternates its direction each year to be a "down-run" or "up-run", and was this year the down-run. Julian Russell, James Perry and Zoe Watson were our representatives. This is a report by Julian, whose father Richard has done the race no fewer than 28 times:

"The race was amazing, everything I expected and more. Dad's advice in the lead up delivered us to the start line in Pietermaritzburg with nerves under control, healthy respect for the challenge but positivity in spades. I soon faced my first hydration issue 30 mins before the start as I couldn't stop crying when I got in the pen! But settled down in time for the official songs and countdown, and the excitement took over as we were off.

Zoe Watson, Julian Russell, Richard Russell and James Perry

Hour 1 passed in a pre-dawn blur, chilly and slightly unnerving to have hundreds of kamikazes streaming past at ridiculous pace from the slower seeded groups. My goal wasn't specific for the early segments, just ease into it and, if in doubt, slow down. The first 18km were hilly including the huge drop of Polly Shortts. Sunrise came, the first valley views were brilliant and I finally took off my warm layer at 22km and mentally got to work.

I sparked up a deep conversation with a chap from Johannesburg after we caught each other gazing in awe at the race snaking behind us down one of the valley switchbacks. It turned out he was into hockey about as much as cricket for me [Julian is a former pro-cricketer and member of the MCC], but I had a minor nightmare at the first drink stop that we hit together when I tried to grab a water for him and fumbled it, then dropped mine when going for the recovery. Hardly the safe hands I'd tried to convey, but we rolled through the next 15km chatting about how we'd each arrived at that spot, me taking extra care not to let anything else slip through my fingers (in reality the drink stops were so close together the only damage was to my pride).

We split as he spotted his wife and stopped for a few supplies, and I realised I was probably going to go through halfway slightly ahead of my rough target, so tried to give some of it back before things started heating up. The easier second segment from 18km to 41km was true to form, feeling great but wary of some tough stuff coming up.

Had my first couple of 100-step walks up the big climb at Inchanga nearing halfway, went through in just under 4 hours when I'd said 4.10 at the quickest. No stress, but conscious of not overcooking it early. Weather was perfect by this stage, mid-high teens and light breeze, not too sunny. The 41-51km stretch is known as one of the toughest, the combination of big hills, growing fatigue and the mental battle of crossing halfway but still a long way to go were all curve-balls to negotiate. I'd been eating and drinking well, bananas and salty boiled potatoes along with water, energade and the odd flat coke from the aid stations, as well as a couple of gels that I was carrying. If anything I was slightly over-hydrated, needed a few pee stops but with a possible warm finish I didn't want to take a chance so kept up the fluid intake throughout.

Ticking along well and emerged onto an apparently easier stretch to 71km with just one main obstacle to negotiate, the 3.2km steep descent down Fields Hill. Had chatted away most of the previous 10kms with a Queenslander running his first Comrades who also opened the batting, as well as yo-yoing with the hockey player who was still running strongly but with a few more planned walks than me. Perhaps slightly unaware of my growing tiredness, Fields chewed me up and spat me out at the bottom minus most of my snap but with plenty of doubts and fears in return. I only moved to my 100-step strategy on the final third of the hill, and by that stage damage had been done. Good old inflammation in my right knee was grabbing for the first time, both hamstrings were twitching and it was a battle to keep the jelly legs under control even during the walks.

Finally the bottom came into focus and the promise of different muscles being required gave a glimmer, unfortunately I had become quite negative over the previous 20 minutes and the 100-on/100-off walks continued as I tried to re-gather my bundle. For the first time it seemed like there was a long stretch between aid stations (clearly the walking had something to do with it), my body was noticeably hotter and I didn't really want to have a gel without water as my stomach was approaching some form of distress. Took a chance and had one in the end, eased back into steady running to see what was left in the tank and had a lovely surprise as a couple of speedy kms whizzed by.

This coincided with a great section of crowd support (maybe I was just noticing it more or appeared especially needy/pitiful), complete with drinks and salted oranges which really hit the spot. Enthused, I didn't have too long to wait until the next boggle reared up, the steep 1.5km pitch up Cowies Hill and then the slightly shallower but longer descent down to the Durban outskirts. Even though I felt like I'd been in a hole for half an hour, I'd left most of the people behind that I'd been mingling with up to 60km, and from the start of the Cowies climb I actually had racing thoughts in mind looking to start picking people off.

Only 1 or 2 x 100-steps on the way up, a good chunk of the field walked the whole thing, then the downhill was murderous, but invigorating if that is possible, as I drew strength from managing my resources. Dad had pointed out the steepest section right near the bottom so I made an exception and walked for more than my usual amount, the knee and hammys all behaving themselves. Then turned the corner and remembered he'd also said the steepest uphill segment of the day was immediately afterwards, so was ready to walk here too, but made a sweet impromptu move of giving my visor to a streetkid as the sun was now behind me (and I had the beginnings of a headache perhaps triggered by the tight elastic). He couldn't believe his good fortune which in turn propelled me up the near-cliff at warp speed (7 min/km..). Something had been sparked, and as the 21km to go sign faded in the rear-view I was determined to make it my fastest half marathon of the day, or die trying.

We were now on a wide stretch of freeway, rolling with a few half km kickers that seemed to floor everyone else but I was floating by this stage. I took every opportunity to engage with other runners, pretty much always getting a positive response, even though an overseas competitor in their first Comrades (easily identifiable front and back on the race number) is not supposed to be telling everyone to 'just cruise it home from here'.

Felt a calf twinge for the first time at 11 km to go, my response was that I'd better get home quickly before it had a chance to cause any hassles. Pushed again and got to 4km seamlessly, then the Kingsmead cricket stadium (former down-run finish venue until this year) came into view. Tried to crack a joke with a guy along the lines of finding the idiot who agreed to move it up the road to the football stadium - tumbleweeds. I was also aware of Phil Hughes scoring twin centuries in his 2nd test here a couple of years before he died (due to being hit in the neck by a bouncer), and suddenly I was empty and it was getting too much to handle.

I made an attempt to congratulate a guy rattling past on his way to his green number for a 10th finish, he was in an absolute state but still running 5 min/kms. Even though we shared barely a word of common language (my attempt to pronounce his name got a genuine chuckle), I understood his message to hang with him because he wasn't going to let this go. Pounding, more pounding and teeth grinding as the white arch of the new stadium refused to come any closer, the blinkers came down and I settled for just following my hero of the day and gaining whatever slipstream effect was on offer. Another ratcheting up prompted a glance around and there we were, just about to divert up to the tunnel, a sight for sore eyes (and body) if ever there was one.

Dreamy cushioned astroturf never felt so good, and there was still time for one last quirk in the tunnel as I approached a tall guy with fair hair who looked vaguely familiar. Not Dad, but the same guy I'd stood next to in the start pen hours earlier but had been too frazzled to speak to. Andre from Namibia received my final congratulations on the route, also for his 10th finish just seconds away. The whoop and 'go Julian' back was never in doubt, and the half-lap inside was just long enough to put some racing tactics into action and nip a couple of easy points while the group ahead forgot the first rule of Met League.

Over the finish line, relief, a few seconds trying to take it all in, then a big smile and complicated African handshake with my pacer who did well to hide his surprise that I'd managed to stick with him. We wished each other well for many more Comrades as best as we could, then up to the international area where Dad was waiting with the biggest grin ever. I was more than happy with 8hr15, basically a 15 min positive split but given the potential for a sizeable blowout this is very respectable, even for the old hands I'd been cheering.

James put in a strong and courageous effort, his first half was speedy then one or two cramp issues derailed his second half, but a finish of 9.41 is excellent. Zoë had a very sound strategy from the start, aiming for sub11 hrs and hit it pretty much spot on with a very impressive 10.54.

All of us were tired and sore, but no major physical problems (Zoe & I just have the bug to deal with, as next year's plans are already at an advanced state..). 6.30am swim the next morning in the surf outside our hotel followed by a 30 min taxi trip up the coast to a town my mum's family used go to for holidays 50 years ago, beautiful times and already questioning if the race had even happened or we'd just dreamed the whole thing."

Already dreaming of next year: Julian Russell