I've recently gloated that I almost never get sick, so I guess I
was due this. I’m currently en route from Atlanta to Portland after the 16-hour
Jo-burg-Atlanta direct flight, which ranks as one of the worst flights in my
life (and longest flight in the world), and I've had some doozies. A hacking
cough and stuffiness has turned me into that person you glare at on airplanes—the
one that you’re convinced is going to get you sick. I think I glared at a
similar person en route to Durban on Thursday.
The day after a disappointing race is always a bit of a downer.
Although I went into Comrades knowing some recent issues I've been having with
my left hamstring/glutes/piriformis would either numb themselves into
submission during the race which would serve as a last long run before Western
States, or help me come to the decision that I'm injured and need some time off
to get healthy again. My training the past few weeks has not been ideal, as
tightness in my butt and hamstring has caused workouts to be painful, and easy
runs to not be completely enjoyable either. So, I hoped that a good 2-week
taper into Comrades would get me to the start line healthy, and a decent race
would leave me confident about running Western States with time for a rest week
before putting in a couple of weeks of final preparation for WS.
Niggles are common among runners, and I feel like I always have
something floating around. But usually the niggle lasts a day or two and then
moves on and a different niggle pops up. When an issue sticks around for more
than a few days, I get worried, and this has had me worried for the last month,
as it started as an issue back in early May and just hung on, getting progressively
worse. It’s not a new niggle, but one in the past has floated around, and not
been consistently an issue. One of the problems is I can't quite tell what the
issue is--hamstring, glute, piriformis, It's painful in a few spots, and a bit
difficult to pinpoint exactly. Some days in the pool seemed to help, but
running hard would seemingly negate those recovery days, and have me back where
I started. Training has not been ideal the past month, although I managed to
stick sort of on schedule, with fewer hard sessions and long runs than I had
hoped. I foam rolled a lot, stretched, did glute/hamstring exercises, saw my
graston guy and massage guy, etc. I've had issues heading into other races,
forcing rest and PT, hoping for a race miracle, and sometimes it works and
sometimes it doesn't.
Adding to my pre-race worries, I started getting a sore throat on Friday
night. I woke up Saturday not feeling hot and needing to swallow constantly,
but there was nothing I could do, besides suck on zinc lozenges. Race morning,
Sunday, I woke up feeling not horrible, so was hopeful that maybe I'd still
kick it. Now on my way home, I’m fully sick, and as sick as I’ve been in a few
years. I feel badly for the dudes sitting next to me, who will be lucky to
avoid this thing, as I’ve coughed, and sniffled the entire way home. The guy en
route from Jo-burg was apologetic after I was apologetic, and the guy en route
to Portland gifted me an entire bag of cough drops. I avoided colds all winter
when my roommate or work colleagues were seemingly always sick, so the timing
of my first cold in a couple of years is just another frustration on a
frustrating day. Alas, this is a bit of a pity party so far. Time for some
positives….
For those unfamiliar with Comrades, the race is a point to point
that switches direction each year. The race from Durban to Pietermaritzburg is
a net uphill so called an "up" run, and the other direction, which we
ran this year, from Pietermaritzburg to Durban is a "down" run. The
terms don't necessarily completely describe the course because either direction
has a lot of up and down (down run has around 4700 feet of up and 6700 feet of
down). Many folks say the down run is harder, as it leaves you battered after a
good chunk of the downhill comes in the last third of the race.
Race morning was lovely. Often the start can be quite chilly, as
Pietermaritzburg sits up at 2,000 feet, but with lows only around 60F the night
prior, it was a warm start. The start of Comrades has an energy that must be
experienced to truly appreciate it. Running for the Nedbank elite team, we got
a position right up front on the start line, which was a little intimidating,
as the sprint off the front is something to behold. Everyone slows down in a
race from the initial pace, although I have to suspect the Comrades slow down
for most is even more dramatic, as the lure of the TV cameras off the front,
and energy in the air, make it look like some are racing the mile. The entire
race is televised, up to the 12-hour cut-off. Right before the gun they play Shosholoza, a
South African folk song, and Chariots of Fire. The excitement builds, the start
line grows more and more cramped as people push forward, and at 5:30 a.m. the
gun goes off. Fearful of getting trampled, I braced myself for the push, and
breathed a sigh of relief after the first block. Ian Sharmin came by and we
chatted for a bit before he headed off. The first mile was 6:30, so knowing
that the pace was a bit fast, I aimed to ease back into a more sustainable pace.
Despite the quick start, I felt good, and my butt felt good and loose, and the
next few miles clicked by under 7:00 pace.
It was dark the first few miles and when the sun finally did come
up it was gorgeous. At this point, you're running through rolling farm country
and the sun rises over large rolling hills to the east, off to the left hand
side, showing off a landscape of big rolling green hills with brilliant pinks
and oranges highlighting a few lone trees on the horizon line. I had a few
Nedbank guys around me who seemed to be forming a little group around me, and
at some point reminded them that they couldn't run near me, as pacing isn't
allowed; it looks especially suspicious if a Nedbank woman is surrounded by a
group of green Nedbank men. They disappeared, but when running with that many
people (17,000 starters), you’re bound to be near someone.
There are steady ups and downs throughout the first 20K, and I
felt good and was climbing well. The pace stayed comfortable and we averaged
about 7:10 pace through about 18 miles. I was aiming for an overall average of
around 7:30 pace, so while this was a bit quick, it felt good; 7:35 average
pace was what I needed to go to get in under 7 hours, but I hoped to be a bit
under that. Somewhere after mile 10 I
made the first of what turned into 6 bathroom stops in the first 40 miles. A
sore throat, the poops, and my hammies/butt had quickly tightened up after the
initial loose first few miles. Speed is what typically doesn't feel good on my
butt, and it was tight. Tight asses are not always a good thing.
Even though it was just yesterday, the middle miles are all kind
of a blur. I was frustrated in that I seemingly constantly needed to pull over,
despite taking one Imodium before the start, and another about 15 miles in when
things started to feel rough tummy-wise. I was eating and drinking, but doing
so caused me to need to use the bathroom. We had handlers that were there to
give us bottles roughly every 10K following the 20K mark, but there was also a
ton of aid along the way. Comrades is one of the best-aided races I've run,
with water/energy drink stops every 2 or 3K. The beverages are in little
sachets which make drinking or holding them for later very easy.
I was in around 6th for the first 18 miles, but several
bathroom stops in a row allowed for several women to pass, many of whom I must
not have seen while in the port-a-potty right before half-way point, where I
must have come in around 8th or 9th. I never saw Jo pass me, but did spot a few
others from the bushes. I passed half-way in about 3:25/6, but that was after
my longest bathroom break, so in hindsight, was happy with my pace through the
first half, which was on-target for my goal of sub-7 and a gold medal, which
the top 10 receive.
Zola Budd passed me somewhere in this middle section, running for
Hooters. It was pretty amazing to be running in a race around Zola Budd, but
she motored on, while I struggled. We finally came to the start of the downhill
section. Often in an ultra, pre-race niggles will just kind of melt away with
the miles, I think related to endorphins, or some aspect of body chemistry, but
the miles were only adding to the discomfort, and my upper hamstring/piriformis
was pissed. The two women who finished in 9th and 10th
were running just in front of me, and I had passed them back on the downhill, and
felt like I was getting back into a groove and that the Imodium seemed to have
stopped the frequent stops. I was averaging 7:27 pace overall at this point but
getting faster as we started to descend, so with the upcoming net downhill and
fewer stops, was hopeful to stay under 7:35 pace which was the pace to get in
just under 7 hours. Right around 23K to go, I felt a sharp pain in my left
hamstring which altered my step. I kind of jerked to a stop and tried to start
running again, but was obviously limping. I started to walk, quickly deciding
that my race was over and accepting the fact that it was going to be a long
walk. But, I had several hours to get to the finish, and I could walk, so I
might as well finish.
This was right after 23K to go, and I don’t think I fully
comprehended what walking in would be like. While the entire Comrades course is
spotted with people, there are a ton of people in the final 23K, most of whom
were encouraging me to start running again. “Come on lady, you can do it!” “Run
lady, run!” “Don’t give up, lady!” “Run Amy!” In addition to the crowds,
several runners paused to encourage me along, and several walked with me for
long bits, but all eventually powered on running. While I appreciated their
enthusiasm, this was hard to hear, as I couldn't really run. I tried to start
running a few steps several times, but gave up quickly, as I couldn't run
without pain.
A common Comrades tradition is to party with a braai or barbecue along
the side, often handing out aid in the form of water, fruit or candy, in
addition to the official race aid stations. One guy offered me a cup of water,
and I asked whether he could spare a beer, which he was happy to do. This made
me quite popular with the fans, and tasted damn good. Plus, fewer people
shouted at me to run with a beer in hand. A few miles later I scored a second,
and probably would have looked for a third and fourth, but I had to pee and was
stick of stopping to use the bathroom after so many stops in the first half. I
was also hoping to see a friend who hoped to finish around 9 hours on course
and didn’t want to miss her with a stop.
It was a long walk, and while I tried to soak in and enjoy the
energy around me, I was really ready to be done. The bathroom issues were over,
but the sore throat and overall bleh were becoming more apparent. With about
10K to go I calculated that I could finish in under 9 hours if I kept my pace
under 15 min/mile. Not that I cared about which finishers medal I got at this
point, but with 8 miles walked, and 6 miles left to walk, I needed a goal. I
picked up the pace and kept up a decent clip, feeling a weird bit of
competitive walking come upon me, getting a few miles in around 13:40. The Km
signs couldn't come fast enough, but I passed the 3 Km, 2 Km and 1 Km signs and
finally entered the stadium, still walking and 2 hours later than hoped. By this time tears were streaming down my face. I was just so glad to be done and desperately wanted off of the course. It had been a long and disappointing day. I finished in 8:52 (?), 2
hours slower than my goal. While I felt deflated, at the same time, it was
encouraging because while I’d worried before the race that top 10 was out of my
reach, being there on that day, I realized that on a good day top 10 is well
within my reach, and even top 5. Sometimes everything comes together on race
day, and sometimes the cards just seem stacked against you. On race day, I didn't
feel out of my league to reach my goal, I just felt like crap, both with some
pre-race niggles that could have gone either way, and with a bug that has now
taken over completely. At this point, I can’t wait for the plane to land and to
make a bee-line for home and my bed and a long-overdue nap with my sweet
kittens.
Once again, back to the positives….I feel fortunate to call Ellie
both a teammate and friend, and I was thrilled to hear about her day once I’d
finished. I was almost afraid to ask, as we’d both confessed our pre-race concerns
to each other on Saturday afternoon, and she had some reasons for concern. But
in true Ellie fighting spirit, she had what she called a bad race up to the
point where she laid it all on the line and went for it. She reeled the twins (who have dominated the past several years) in in what (according to the Twitterverse) was the fastest closing split over the
final 7 Km for either men or women. Incredible! Watching her finish replayed on
the jumbo-tron afterwards with Ian following her in from behind, was awe-inspiring.
I do plan to be back at Comrades, if not next year, then at a
minimum for the following year for the next down run. Seeing the race unfold,
and feeling comfortable in the pace that it takes to run for gold, I’m
confident that on a good day, or even a slightly less bad day, I can run in
contention for a solid top 10 finish. Many thanks to Nedbank for allowing me to
race for them and for providing logistical support in country—I know that they
had high expectations for all of us, and I feel badly about the outcome.
Despite the race not going as planned, I had a great trip. I
arrived in Cape Town on the Monday prior for a few days of rest and relaxation,
and loved exploring the area around the Cape. I'll add some pictures once I'm back in the real non-airplane world.
