Written by Emily Schmidt - https://www.facebook.com/MyComradesMarathonExperience?ref=bookmarks

Last year I ran my first ultramarathon; the Comrades Marathon in South Africa. The 2013 54mile/87km ‘up’ run between Durban and Pietermaritzburg was abnormally hot and windy, but I was extremely pleased to complete it in 10hrs 56mins for a bronze medal. Although it was a very tough run, within 24hrs I had decided that I would like to return in 2014 for the 56mile/89km ‘down’ run. Apparently you aren’t a true Comrades marathoner until you have completed both the ‘up’ and the ‘down’ run, and as an added incentive novice runners who complete an 'up’ or ‘down’ run in succession are awarded a special back-to-back medal. ‘Up’ and ‘down’ are deceptive terms for the route between coastal Durban and inland Pietermaritzburg at an altitude of 1955ft/596m because you run through the Valley of a Thousand Hills, and even in the ‘down’ run there is over 4000ft/1300m of ascent.

I entered Comrades 2013 whilst training for my second marathon. After hearing about Comrades on the Marathon Talk and Talk Ultra podcasts, it grabbed my attention in an unexplainable way and I was determined to run it one day. I didn’t think it would be so soon, but when entries opened towards the end of 2012 I thought ‘why not?’ The event has such a great history to it and really does live up to its marketing as ‘The Ultimate Human Race’. I wish everyone could get to experience it someday. I would recommend Comrades as a first ultra because the size of the field is similar to that of a city marathon, so you are never running alone. Also, being on closed roads there is no navigation required, and with aid stations every 2km you don’t need to worry about carrying your own hydration and nutrition. Plus the support along the route is incredible!

Throughout my training in 2013 and 2014, I found the Comrades thread on the UK Runner’s World forum a great source of information and motivation. There’s such a variety of runners on there (speedy and not so speedy), from novices to back-to-back medallists and those with green numbers (10+ finishes). Just before heading out to South Africa big lists are made so you know which flights people are on, where people are staying, who is going to parkrun and what post-run social celebrations are happening. This year I met my first fellow comrade on the bus to Heathrow.

‘International athletes’ (as we are called) are treated so well in South Africa and by the Comrades Marathon Association. There is a special area at the expo to collect your number and chat with other runners over tea and biscuits, whilst South Africans have to queue for a couple of hours. There are bus tours of the route on which you get to see just how bad the hills are (even the bus struggles), and also visit the Comrades Marathon House (museum), be entertained by the pupils at Ethembeni School for the physically disabled and visually impaired, stop at landmarks along the route such as Arthur’s Seat and the Wall of Honour, and see inside the finish stadium. At the finish there is also an international tent to relax in after your run; only international spectators and runners are allowed in here, where your tog bag is ready to collect and there is food and drink (including beer). The area is also along one side of the finish, so you can cheer runners around the stadium and watch the dramatic cut-offs on the big screens. The various cut-offs during the Comrades Marathon are very strict (x5 along the route), and the final 12hr cut-off at the finish is a very sad and emotional experience; everyone shouts and cheers to encourage as many runners as possible to finish, but when the gun goes there are still runners streaming past and on the roads outside the stadium.              

With this year being a ‘down’ run it meant getting to the start (5:30AM) in Pietermaritzburg from Durban (I stayed on the beach front in Durban like most other international runners). So after only a couple of hours napping (I couldn’t really call it sleep), I was on one of the coaches you can book to the start with hundreds of other runners at 3AM. We arrived in plenty of time, and thanks to the knowledge of a 14 times finisher found some portaloos with no queues at all (and being cleaned every time someone left one), so I was comfortably in my start pen by 5AM. To enter Comrades you have to qualify by completing a marathon under 5hrs. Like many other events your qualifying time determines your start pen which can be important for slower runners as it is timed gun to chip, and with the narrower streets in Pietermaritzburg apparently you can take up to about 10 minutes to cross the start line. The start is very emotional with all the nervous tension after months of training, all the South Africans join in with their national anthem and then they sing Shosholoza (2^nd/unofficial anthem), this is followed by Chariots of Fire, Max Trimborn's traditional cock-crow and the start gun.          

I passed over the start line after about 3 minutes, and the aim for the next hour was to try not to trip over whilst running through the dark streets of Pietermaritzburg. Even though it is early, there is lots of support already. Luckily there were more bushes in town than I remembered from the bus tour as I had to stop for a wee after only 15 minutes (maybe worryingly I didn’t need to go again until I got back to my hotel, oops). After 8km you reach the top of the first major hill out of the ‘big five’; Polly Shortts is the infamous sting in the tail on the ‘up’ run and nearly everyone walks up it, so it was lovely to run down as the sun started to rise. However, I was slightly worried that I could feel the effects of downhill running in my legs rather more than I should at this early stage knowing that the ‘down’ run is renowned for crippling your quads (descend 500m in the last 15 miles). The first half of the ‘down’ run is through the countryside, so it is relatively quiet. Although lots of people from the poorer, rural communities come along to clap and cheer whilst also waiting for discarded jackets, t-shirts, hats and gloves the runners no longer need once it starts to get warmer. I was glad of the advice to keep my jacket on after the first climb because you then descend again into much cooler valleys (you could see your breath and your sunglasses steamed up). After discarding my jacket, the support from fellow runners really started in earnest as I had union jacks on my vest so everyone wants to chat to you and welcome you to South Africa. International athletes also have a blue number which catches peoples’ attention, however this year because I was going for my back-to-back medal I had an orange number which means you get a lot of premature (anything can happen!) congratulations.

Next you pass through an area of chicken farming which is very noticeable by the smell, and the towns of Camperdown and Cato Ridge are pockets of such noise and support after the relative quiet of the countryside. Harrison Flats is actually not so flat, and seems up hill on both the ‘up’ and ‘down’ runs if that is possible. Just before reaching the second big climb (Inchanga) the pupils from the Ethembeni School for the physically disabled and visually impaired line the route giving ‘high-fives’ to all the runners, which is incredibly up-lifting. On the ‘up’ run Inchanga is after half-way and anyone finishing in 11-12hrs can afford to walk up this hill, however, being just before half-way on the ‘down’ run, route advice I found was that you really have to run-walk it. At this point, approaching the marathon distance, I really started to feel fatigued for the first time. But upon reaching the top there is then a nice 3km descent to half-way. On the descent I was surprised to come across a club-mate from my London running club; he is a much better marathon runner than me (and experienced ultra-runner) but, as a Comrades novice, underestimated the hills and couldn’t keep to the sub-9hrs (Bill Rowan medal) pacing he was aiming for.

Half-way is a major point of reference in any event, but I was very aware of the advice I had read and heard that the real half-way point is not until the top of the third big hill (Bothas) after 52km. Just after half-way you reach Arthur’s Seat, this is where Arthur Newton (early, 5 times winner) used to rest during long training runs to look over the Valley of a Thousand Hills. Legend has it that if a runner greets Arthur and places a flower on his seat, they will have a good 2nd half. It worked for me last year, but this year there were no flowers being handed our beforehand, so I found a (prickly) bit of greenery and said good morning to Arthur. I don’t normally suffer from chaffing, but this time under my arms was really bothering me so I started keeping an eye out for some Vaseline (at one point when I got closer to a spectator, I realised she was actually holding dip and found this very disheartening). Everyone is really helpful along the route, and it wasn’t actually long before I had generously covered myself in Vaseline which then meant I didn’t feel the chaffing for the rest of the run (until I got in the shower afterwards, ouch!). I now knew that I could walk all the up hills and should still finish before the cut-off (12hrs) for a Vic Clapham medal, and if I minimised my walking on the flat/downs I should be able to finish under 11hrs again for another bronze medal.              

With about 20 miles to go I was feeling rather rough and the nausea didn’t subside until a couple of hours after finishing. I got my hydration and nutrition very wrong and couldn’t face eating anything from just after half-way, so I survived on coke and energy drink which was simultaneously thirst-quenching and stomach churning. The cloud cover we had been blessed with for a lot of the run had now disappeared and it was starting to feel rather hot (I later read that it reached 30°C in Durban). I remember being rather rude to one runner who was asking me where I was from during a bad patch, I grunted that I couldn’t really talk at the moment and he very politely explained he was just trying to take my mind off the running. I did manage to apologise though and we continued to run along together for a while in silence, which was nice and really helped me more than he probably realised. The crowd support builds and builds as you get closer to Durban. Running through Hillcrest I heard on a radio that the Russian Nurgalieva twins (dominated the ladies field for the last 11 years) had come 2^nd and 3^rd, but they didn’t say who had won. Brit Ellie Greenwood (who lives in Canada) was a real contender for the win (4^th in 2011, 2^nd in 2012), so I was keen to find out the result. Asking spectators I got told to ‘worry about my own run’, but it really lifted my spirits when I found out Ellie had won (another Brit, Jo Meek, came 5^th).

With just over a half-marathon to go, you reach the 4^th big down, Fields Hill. This is 3.5km long and so advice I had read suggested taking walk breaks even though it’s downhill. I chose to run the shorter but steeper racing line, although I kept thinking about what I had read on how you had to be careful not to completely trash your quads at this point (still 21 undulating km to go at the bottom). At this point I was again surprised to come across another runner who I knew was aiming for sub-9hrs. I was unsure what to say to him (and if I should say anything at all), but he seemed in good spirits and had re-adjusted his goal for a ‘comfortable’ sub-11hrs finish (this was his 15^th run). For the rest of the run I leap-frogged back and forth with him and the other runner I mentioned from my London running club. Then with about 14km to go, I got a stone in my shoe. Disaster, I was in no shape to bend down and remove it. So I tried approaching some spectators and before I could speak, they asked me if I was OK and if there was anything they could do to help. With military precision I was told to lean on one of them whilst the other quickly removed my shoe (and the stone) and very efficiently put my shoe back on again. Comrades is fantastic in so many ways.

Unfortunately, after climbing the last of the big 5 hills (Cowies) and with 7km to go I got terrible cramp down the inside of my left leg. The sort of cramp that suddenly stops you mid-run, causing you to do a funny hop to continue moving forward and makes everyone around you take an audible ‘ooooo, ouch’ intake of breath. Again everyone wanted to help, but I remembered a friend telling me never to stop if you cramp and I managed to walk it off. Running then felt much smoother again, but I found if I pushed the pace too much (it was largely downhill now) I cramped again so had to try and consciously run relaxed to keep it away. Until a couple of months ago I had never experienced cramp in my life, then after the London Marathon I was stopped in my tracks going to meet my family by this same cramp down my left leg. The rest of the run was rather miserable because other than the cramp I felt OK to run it into the finish, but I kept being forced to walk. On the upside a South African started to chat to me as he couldn’t run much either as his hip flexor had pretty much decided to stop working, and we took solace in that we weren’t as bad as those vomiting on the side of the road.

I think the cramps only cost me about 5-10 minutes, but as we got closer to the finish sub-10:30 was looking more out of the question. But being comfortably under the bronze medal cut-off (11hrs), I walked a lot in the final couple of km as I really didn’t want to cramp in the last few hundred meters around the stadium. The (cricket) stadium finish is amazing; it’s extremely loud with everyone banging on the advertising boards. I could hear the commentator counting down a sub-10:30 finish, my South African friend managed a burst of energy to finish strong but I decided a few seconds meant nothing and enjoyed myself (although my photos suggest otherwise, but I was happy on the inside, honest).

I was now a back-to-back, double bronze Comrades finisher. Collecting medals and having photos taken is all a bit of a blur. I bumped into the runner from my London running club who finished 5 minutes before me, and made my way to the international tent where I was thankfully let in with the union jacks on my vest (a few of us had been worried because we had orange back-to-back numbers rather than blue international numbers). I found lots of other UK runners in there who had successfully earned silver medals (sub-7:30), Bill Rowan medals (sub-9hrs) and even their age category (female V60). At this point I started to go very light-headed with ringing ears, so I drank more energy drink and lay down with my feet up on a chair for a while. More UK runners joined us who had also achieved bronze medals (sub-11hrs) and finished before the final cut-off (12hrs) for a Vic Clapham medal. Watching the final cut-off is bizarre as it is so disheartening seeing the runners so near, yet so far whilst you have your medal hanging around your neck. That evening and the next day were then spent walking rather funnily, sharing our Comrades stories and drinking a fair few beers.  

Written by James Elson - http://runthroughtime.blogspot.co.uk

Comrades - 'The Ultimate Human Race', the oldest and biggest ultra in the world.

For years I'd had my eye on the race, probably since 2007 when I first started looking at the bigger one day events I one day wanted to run. In 2010 I decided to forego entering because I felt it was too much to travel and race well a month before Badwater. In 2011 I had a race number and went all the way to Durban to watch the race unfold, but had to let it pass me by with a fractured tibia. This year would be my baptism.

Comrades was 86 years old this year and had 18,000 people registered to run. Those are completely untouchable statistics in ultra land. Sparta might claim to be 2500 years old, but took a 2470ish year hiatus. Western States, the oldest trail 100, is a miserly 35 years old. In terms of field size, we are talking half the size of the London Marathon, but over twice the distance. It truly is the equivalent of any big city marathon anywhere else, but the South Africans embrace it as their own. Along with the 56km Two Oceans Marathon in Cape Town, Comrades at 89km is a major national televised event. The entire 12 hours from start to final cut off, are broadcast - live. I still can't get my head around any of that when I try to imagine it happening on UK soil - but the most incredible aspect of the race isn't the size, prestige, runners, location, difficulty or logistics, it's by far and away the support you receive from the crowds on route. I won't go on anymore about general Comrades stats, you can find them pretty much anywhere, instead I'll just talk about my experience of actually running the race.

Comrades alternates direction each year between an up run - Durban on the coast to Pietermaritzberg inland - and a down run as was run this year - from Pietermaritzberg down to the cricket stadium in Durban. This year I'd flown out with two of my closest friends, Rob and Jimmy - Rob was running his first ultra, Jimmy is responsible for having got me running in the first place by signing us up to the MdS in 2006 - and was making a comeback from a 5 year hiatus from ultrarunning. Staying in Durban we drove up to the race start 90ks away in a Nissan Micra with Dave and Mel Ross, another 2 close friends and incredibly experienced runners. Dave was running his 8th Comrades and gunning this time for a silver (sub 7:30), Mel her 2nd Comrades. Both have run well over 250 and 150 marathons respectively.

To make the startline and beat the road closures, we got up at 1:30am for a 2am departure and it HURT. I'd missed an entire nights sleep on the way out and this was a second dose of punishment in 3 days! When we got to Pietermaritzburg we head straight to Mcdonalds where we sat eating sausage and egg mcmuffins and drinking coffee, waiting out the 2 hours to the start. We walked up to the starting pens together and it was pretty cold outside at about 8 degrees C and most of the runners were dressed in hats and gloves.

To qualify for Comrades, you have to run a sub 5 hour marathon. How much quicker than that you run depends on which pen you are allocated at the start, ranging from sub 3 hour (Pen A) to 4:40 - 4:59 (Pen H). We all made our way to our respective pens, Dave and I managing to get our slots in pen A and the others ranging from B through to D, all pretty close to the front. It meant that of the 18,000 people, about 17,500 were behind us, held back by barriers and staring at  us in the front like hungry wolves just itching to get forward and start.

Almost as soon as I got behind the barriers I bumped in to Terrence Zengerink. I first 'met' Terrence when we found ourselves running a section of the London to Brighton trail run together in 2007 or 8 (I forget). He had also blitzed our Thames Path 100 earlier this year in a stellar sub 20 time, managing to fit in a sub 3 hour marathon too on route to his 5th Comrades start. We had a good chat and it quickly became clear that our goals were pretty similar. We both had our hearts set on the much coveted silver medals given to those who complete the 56 miles in under 7 hours and 30 minutes (8 min mile pace), but were accepting that we'd have to see how things worked out as we went along and were prepared to work around that goal if it looked overly ambitious. I think we both felt pretty comfortable that the sub 9 hour time for a Bill Rowan medal (the next up from silver) was always going to be well within reach so to a certain extent we were pretty relaxed. We didn't expressly say 'let's stick together' because it's hard to commit to that if you've never run together before, but I think we both felt that we might just end up pushing each other along at least initially.

With 10 minutes to the 0530 starting gun, the music kicked in and the pens behind were released to join us in one heaving mass of pent up energy. The national anthem was followed by the incredibly moving shosholoza and then by chariots of fire.

As the countdown started the atmosphere was absolutely electric and something never to be forgotten. When the gun blew, Terrence started with the tips - avoid the central part of the road where the barriers get in the way, watch out for the discarded clothes and bin bags left behind by warmed up runners, watch out for the slippery cats eyes etc and instantly I though to myself wow this is GREAT I've got a Comrades pro running next to me for company!!!

I think I knew our days were going to be aligned for sure when after a few minutes we both simultaenously pulled off the road for a pee, and then 20 minutes later, for a more substantial toilet break, and re-joined the road together. Initially we ran in the dark for around an hour, the throngs of people around us, at first all with A seed bib numbers on, then pretty quickly with B, C or even D on their bibs humming past us at incredible speeds. I can roundly say we got overtaken by 100s of people in that initial stretch, and went past very few. I thought we played it very sensibly. Downhills we were able to easily stretch away at close to 7 minute pace, uphills at perhaps 8:30s and as an average maybe 7:40 to 7:45 per mile almost without fail. We were consistent, I can say that, but we were pushing too.

Terrence let me know what the sights, sounds and smells of Comrades all meant, where the 'Big 5' hills were on the course and what to expect from much of the day. It was all totally invaluable information and I have to say, course knowledge at this race is absolutely crucial to having your best run. He had run an 8 hr time before and whilst Plan A was silver, Plan B was sub 8. I liked the sound of both.

A few big things struck me in the early hours of the race. The km markers counting down all the way from 89 to 1. The crowds lining the streets absolutely everywhere, cooking their Braai's (barbeques) and cheering you on no matter how you looked or felt. As an International runner I had a blue bib on to signify having travelled from overseas to race and with my name written below most of the people cheering below screamed out 'come on James!!!!' in my face as I came past. At first i asked myself wtf was going on but it really sent the shivers down my spine having a crowd like that behind you.

As the light came up Terrence and I were still together. Already maybe 20ks in we were passing people standing still as they'd gone out so hard. There were aid stations every few kms and they were all absolutely rammed with people handing out sachets of water. The idea is that you grab a sachet, tear off the corner with your teeth and then suck down the liquid, probably about 200ml. The benefits are multiple - no need to run with a bottle or bladder, no need to stand and drink or throw most of it down your throat trying to drink on the move, and you can run with them so you can hang on to one or two as back up in case you needed any on route to the next aid station. The first couple I bit off big corners and doused myself but I quickly got the hang of it.

Elena leading the ladies race early on

We wound our way down through some more rural areas but the crowds were as supportive no matter where you were. The first 30ks flew by but from the start I had felt fairly bad. A lack of sleep and some stomach issues had spaced me out a bit and I didn't feel particularly in control. Ordinarily the pace we were going would have felt fairly easy. It felt sustainable but it also felt like I was having to work a little bit too hard to stay honest with the schedule. No matter we pressed on through the stinking chicken farms and round some sweeping hillside roads towards halfway, following around 100 yards behind a massive group who were tailing Zola Budd in her first Comrades Marathon. At this point there were two major climbs, once just before midway and one just after and they certainly took their toll. We had already crested the highest point in the course, but the rollercoaster continued and on the second climb I dropped to a walk taking a pee and let Terrence move up the road. About 2ks later I caught him up and there was an enormous cheer behind us. We turned around just as Bruce Fordyce came through with about 50 guys pacing with him. He'd stated he was going for a silver in this his 30th Comrades (9 wins in there too) and he looked super strong on the road.

About a mile on from there, Terrence dropped to a walk and I pushed on a little and started to have the first and only short stronger patch of my entire race. For about 10 minutes I felt like I wouldn't pass out if I went much faster and made use of it banking some good miles. Reaching the 30k to go marker, I was passing more and more people but I knew my energy was fading as the heat of the day rose. It maybe got to around 24 degrees, but out there on the tarmac running hard with some heart rate drift to boot, 7:45 miles quickly became killer.

As I came through the Nedbank Green Mile I was met with girls hainging in enormous swings in the trees, loads of people outside fairly affluent looking properties and a fairly carnival-esque atmosphere. Just as I came out of it I saw Zola and Bruce running together, both clearly struggling a little and moved passed their group again.

Zola and Bruce finishing

Around that same point, within a couple of miles at least we came to an extremely poor area with an orphanage on the side of the road. The kids were out in force and the general atmosphere was just as supportive but more than a little heartwrenching as it was pretty obvious life was a little more of a struggle for those living around that particular spot. I gave a couple of the kids some gels, my race vest and some sachets of water as we came through and felt terrible that there wasn't anything more we could give other than high 5s and smiles. As we came to around 20ks to go there was an extended long downhill stretch which I believe is called Fields?! This was where I decided that 7:30 was slipping out of reach. Pretty annoyingly because it was a downhill, I was able to bank a few more 7ish min miles and keep under my 8min mile target but I just couldn't hang on to it on the flats and ups.

Little by little the time slipped a few seconds away from me and I was forced in to the dilemma of smashing myself to pieces to run a 7:40 or taking it that little bit easier and running a sub 8 - both for the same medal. I dumped countless sachets of water over my head but just couldn't seem to keep my temperature down so I ended up slowing to 9 minute miles and watching that elusive silver slip out of grasp.

With around 10ks to go I was slaloming across the road trying to pick the tightest lines whilst staying out of the sun but we'd reached a stretch of open motorway and there was no escape. I dropped in to the bushes for another pee and when I came out Terrence came passed me and with no flamboyance just said 'come on dude let's finish this together'. He muttered something too about not worrying too much about going sub 8, but we'd talked at the beginning about how great it would be as Plan B just to dip under that mark, however arbitrary, so we dropped the hammer a bit and started to push the average pace back up.

7ks to go and we were banking a precious few seconds here and there against the clock. The downs continued as we looked out across Durban, but there were a couple of pretty stout little hills to work up all the same. We kept each other going really well and pretty soon the km markers disappeared down to the final two as we made our way over the flyover and down in to Durban city centre. The roads were lined with people and we could see a straight shot km dead ahead of us. Turning the final corner with 1km to go we had 7 minutes to cross the line under 8 hrs and we could finally relax knowing we had it. We ran under some giant showers over the road, into the stadium flanked with people in the grand stands and eventually across the line in 7:56 and change. I think we were both pretty wiped. Nothing dramatic but I felt overheated and a little sore but I loved the whole experience.

Finishing straight

Terrence on the left - A runner, me on the right - A wannabe

Contemplation....

Ian had said to me before the race that until you run Comrades, you just won't appreciate what an extraordinary event it is. I totally agree with that. The support you receive on the roadside is so overwhelming it actually tips you towards getting almost emotional with it all whilst you're running. No matter where you are in the field, the crowd appeared to be going just as nuts.

No getting away from it, this is a pure road run though and if you're not a road runner, this will come as a rude awakening. I would like to have focused much more on the race but I've enjoyed just running a bunch of trail events at my own leisure this past 2 months. Running a 100 miler three weeks prior isn't great practical training but I enjoyed both equally as much for everything they offered up. Such vastly differing experiences but both totally life affirming and thoroughly awesome.

This is a must do race for all ultrarunners out there, but more than that and as per the race motto it's a must do race from a 'human spirit' perspective. Whatever South African politics have held in the past, present or will hold for the future, this race brings everyone together. Never have I felt more welcome at an event or more included in the overall experience - and there were 14,800 of us running.

In terms of times, the South African male winner came over the line in 5:31, the female winner for the 7th time was the Russian Elena Nurgalieva in 6:07, narrowly pipping Ellie Greenwood for second by around a minute. Great running from both of them. Dave Ross crept over for that much deserved silver in 7:24 at his 8th try. Terrence and I finished 950th and 951st respectively in 7:56:40 (NINE HUNDREDTH!!!!!!). Peter Bowles a Serpie traveling with us in his longest ever race ran a stellar 8:02. Rob in his first ultra of any distance 10:02 which was a phenomenal effort considering he'd been injured for months in the run up, and Jimmy came home in 11:27, wiped out but still smiling.

Ellie and Elena

Comrades has one final sting in the tail and that is that at 12 hours dead, the gun goes and the finish line closes. We have the same rules at our events but are less brutal with how we go about it. With back turned, the finish line captain shoots the gun and people just yards or even inches from the finish are prevented from officially finishing the race. Something like 50% of people come in during that final hour and many are inside the stadium when time is called. I would have been devastated had that been me but the guys and girls who just missed out took it in there stride and relished the applause of having travelled 55.95 miles in 12 hours from dawn until dusk.

All in all this is a hard race. The course is hilly. We're certainly not talking Western States or worse here but there are very few areas of flat and not looking after your quads on route leads to big problems. If you've looked before and thought nah it's too far and too expensive, think again. The flights are economical if you book in advance and South Africa is not overly expensive to visit in terms of food and accommodation prices and is one incredible country with a lot of hope for the future. What you spend will be worth it in spades.

Credits: All photos thanks to Terrence Zengerink and family.

Written by Frank Chong - http://runnerzcircle.blogspot.fr

Comrades Marathon 2015 is the 90th edition of The Ultimate Human Race. With a tagline of Bamba Iqhaza which meant Be Part Of It, in the Zulu language, runners can expect a huge field this year. Besides that, with an addition of 877M giving a total of 87.72KM, it’s also one of the longest “Up” run in history due to roadworks at Pinetown. 12 Malaysians signed up for this year’s edition but sadly only 7 started which was myself, Chee Kong, Zijill, Selva, Shanaz, Dr. Jagjit and Dr.Yani.

Team Saucony ready to rock and roll!

We are ready!

With David at Berea. blur shot but truly memorable.

Passing the first Big hill at Cowie's Hill.

Next of the Big 5 hills list will be the treacherous Fields Hill. A steep climb on the open highway, I remembered attacking it back in year 2013 which may have caused my left calf cramping at the later stages. Therefore, a revised strategy this year for I think it will be safer to run walk it, as after all, I need to prevent my heart rate from spiking. But I guess I took it too safe which depleted some buffer time I made.

Assaulting Fields Hill.

Arriving at the top of Fields Hill isn’t the end of the nightmare as we still needed to climb, though not as steep. As I arrived at Winston Park at about the 30KM mark, my body started to show signs of giving way. I kind of expected this but was just hoping that it will not happen. Sadly it did. I took walk breaks in between and ate some potatoes along the way hoping to regain some momentum. I also made my first toilet pee stop here and was glad to have found a mobile version unoccupied. With the discomfort I am facing, I was losing time but I kept attacking the climbs as I knew forward was the only way. And I needed to get to Drummond by 10.30AM (5 hours into the race) if I were to stand a chance to run the target set.

Third of the Big 5 hills, Botha’s Hill was next on the list. Short but steep climb, crowd support was superb as we headed towards it and it kept me going. The day also started to warm up as I stared pouring water over my arms to keep my core temperature down. And with Botha’s Hill conquered, the landscapes of highways and small towns began to change into valley rods as it marks the fast descend into the Valley of 1,000 Hills, into the valley of Drummond.

Descending into Drummond.

Catching up with Manette at the Rooderport tent.

Passed the Wall of Honour on my right, and soon Arthur’s Seat on my left where I gave the plaque a tap while greeting it “Good Morning Sir!”, hoping I will be blessed a stronger half, or will it be?! And soon, the halfway point at Drummond came into sight as I crossed the halfway gantry in 4:59:06 hours. Though it was under 5 hours, I knew it wasn’t an ideal time cause I know my second half will not be faster.

Through the halfway point.

We "ran" when we saw the camera at Lion Park.

Arriving at the foot of Little Polly.

Once exiting R103 (Polly Shortts stretch) and into Alexandra Road, I began to increase my pace and tried to pull Zijill along. But a mistake I did was to inform her that there will be no longer any climbs ahead for there is actually one more as we approach The Oval, along the housing area of Princess Margaret Drive. A bad slip of mind by myself which could cause some severe damage to the final result. But luckily we have created some time buffer for ourselves. And from here, we could finally see it, The Oval!

Into The Oval via the Toyota Mile.

Flying our Jalur Gemilang!

Took out the national flag as we ran down the final stretch of Toyota Mile before entering the stadium with a final 300M or so remaining. We held the flag together and ran along with loud cheers from the crowd and with about 100M to go, suddenly the familiar voice I heard during the early stages of the race came in between me and Zijill. It was David again running in between us just behind our national flag. With virtually neither pain nor soreness, only the runner’s high and the joy of seeing the finish gantry, all 3 of us in the spirit of Comrades ran together and completed the The Ultimate Human Race with 9 minutes to spare till the bronze cut off. My official time, 10:50:51 hours, my best achieved!

We finished it together!

Found a spot to rest on, collected my baggage to put on some clothing before congratulating people around us. I found Bruce “Digger” and went over to him. Soon later, I spotted Kai Yuan too and went over to congratulate him on his awesome back to back achievement only to find both my calves giving way where I fell on him, before collapsing backwards. Was lucky I did not knock my head though as Bruce “Digger” was fast enough to grab me and lay me down on the grass while helping me out with my very painful calves. And it was an embarrassing moment when he introduced to his Australian runners the Malaysian Comrades Ambassador is now laying on the grass cramping! But it’s all for the fun of it.

With Zijill, David and Kai Yuan (seated).

Soon, Selva and Shanaz completed their respective runs too earning their back to back medals. All that is left is Dr. Jagjit. And while we waited, we were also reunited with Chee Kong who although did not run a Bill Rowan time, still managed his best “Up” run effort. You will get there my friend, I am sure you will. And as the 12 hour cut-off nears, we also learnt that Dr. Jagjit finally managed to compete his run too earning his back to back! Well done!

We are Team Malaysia!

- Starting temperature at Durban was 18C while 28.8C was detected by my Suunto Ambit 3 Peak as the highest reading during the entire race.

My splits.

29 May 2016 awaits next!

Written by Tom Wright - http://life.tomwright.me.uk

For ten years I have ritually travelled the AP7 from Altet airport to Denia and marvelled in awe at the strato-volcanic semblance of Puig Campana - Costa Blanca’s second highest mountain. Rising to 1400m from sea level this giant monolith takes on a more congenial form as the toll road bisects Benidorm’s suburbs, but the vast gully draining into vertical scree appears just as uninviting. A most intimidating proposition and that is where the fascination ended. Besides my true love was Montgó, a little further up the coast. 

Then one evening in 2016 I watched the Vuelta tackle the long steep climb to Aitana which, at 1558m, is Costa Blanca’s highest summit. Being only a giant’s stone throw away from Puig (pronounced Putch), the seed of an idea was planted. I googled for a race that might take in both these great summits of the Marina Baixa. There were the relics of a mountain race last run in 2016 and footage of the ISF Vertical Kilometre up aforementioned gully. Finally in early May, as I was feeling the withdrawals from completing Madeira, I stumbled upon Costa Blanca Trails. A new brand and a new race based on what was already well established. No sooner had entries opened I was enrolled. No companions on this trip. A solo adventure into new territory as I would discover how majestic the Costa Blanca truly is for mountain running.

The flight into Alicante offered a bird’s eye view of the three summits I would target over three days - Puig Campana, Bérnia Ridge and in the background Montgó.

Finestrat would be my initial base, and, courtesy of booking.com, Ian and Olwen Reid my adopted parents for the first two nights of a long weekend. I don’t use that word in jest either as they cared for me beyond the call of duty. Ian got up at 5:15am race morning to make me a “breakfast of champions”; they both greeted me at the finish and revitalised me with beer and food at La Barra; drove me back to their wonderful villa nestled in the shadow of Puig itself; and prepared an evening meal - which was foiled with Rioja and highlights of the afternoon’s rugby internationals. The kindest couple and I cannot recommend enough Casa Puig as a base for anyone wanting to explore the mountains around Finestrat.

Casa Puig - (from top left) View of Puig Campana from the bedroom window; the swimming pool; the breakfast balcony; Serra Aitana from the balcony.

Anyway to the Costa Blanca Trails. There are four distances to chose from: Trail 18km; Marathon (2850m+); 65km Ultra (4200m+); and 102km Ultra (6500m+).

I chose the entry level ultra at 65km which took in both Puig Campana and Serra Aitana but excluded the Serrella range beyond the Guadalest valley. Reasons being: I was keen to have functioning legs the three days following for further exploration; I had already proved my 100km mettle in Madeira; and ultimately I wanted to see the sun rise from the summit of Puig Campana. Since the 102km started at 11pm it was not an option.

Registration was Friday evening in a small office tucked a short way down one of Finestrat’s narrow alleyways. This allowed me time to share a welcome cerveza in the November sun on Ian’s patio then familiarise myself with the one kilometre track into town, which happened to be the route off the mountain for all races and was already well marked with Scarpa branded orange tape.

Familiarising myself with the final downhill sprint. Although, with the short autumn days, there was considerable likelihood it would be dark when I came to finish (unless I managed to break twelve hours).

Close to 900 runners had registered for the four races, nearly all Spanish. I was the only Brit in the 65km and only one of a handful of non domestic runners in the entire series of races. I am sure that will change as word the spreads. 

The organisers are evidently keen to make this the de-facto event for the area and worthy of holding its own on the grand stage of global ultra running. The goodie bag had all the makings of a major European race. Tee-shirt and socks, both in my preferred tango orange, along with a light beer from subsidiary sponsor, Amstel, and the usual selection of bag tags, number and timing chips were just reward for my 60 euro entry fee. I saw little need to use the bag drop at 45km but decided a bag at the finish would be essential since Spain is “a cold country with a hot sun” (not my words) and sundown was 6pm.

Yes Tango Tom is one happy customer!

Ian is actually a former runner himself having lived and raced in Benidorm and the surrounding area since the 70’s. He clearly understood the need to carb up before a race as he served up yoghurt, raspberries, honey, toast, tea, fruit and sponge cakes for breakfast at 5:30am. I had intended on munching a banana and Gu waffle so this was a most unexpected treat. 

I jogged down to the start line just after 6am by the light of my Petzl Nao wrapped in my Montane Prism coat to take away the slight chill in the air. One by one we were marshalled into a caged area via a kit inspection. A happy Spaniard expressed some happy Spanish which I did not understand but suspect was along the lines of - 

“you have a very big bag, a lot of water and nothing else”! 

Which would be true. Kit list as follows: cup; head torch with spare battery; wind jacket with hood; foil blanket; bag min 3 litre capacity; at least 1 litre of water; emergency food; buff or hat. So not needing the full waterproofs, gloves and spare layers typical of a British race in November I had plenty of space in my 10 litre s-lab pack to add additional water vessels. Two soft flasks up front and a hand held in my kangaroo pouch. Along with quite a selection of Spanish gels, which I had picked up in Consum on our previous visit two weeks earlier, and the aforementioned Gu waffle that was now surplus to breakfast requirements. Learning from my previous experience at MIUT, I had packed away my wind jacket and donned just a mesh vest and arm warmers. This race was only going up so, despite the low air temperature, I expected to break sweat in no time. I also abandoned a tradition of my long distance running… 2XU compresssion and trail shorts. After all this is Spain and the quads deserved a bit of vitamin D!

Pre-race lacing - a nervous disposition!

Profile of the Costa Blanca Trails 65km. Two major climbs, the first being a VK; a couple of deceiving climbs in the middle; one very steep descent to Sella; and a 5km downhill finish.

Finally ahead of 6:30am we were marshalled out of the cage and under the starting inflatable. This time I did understand the Spanish as the announcer asked us to move forward as all but the elites hung a comfortable distance back. I had no intention of getting stuck in the usual melée of a European sprint start and nestled near the back casually making my way over the start line following the hooter. As soon as we were away from the crowd of villagers that had awoken early to support us I took to walking the tarmac road out of town.  

Is there any point running when you imminently face an ISF VK? Beyond Font del Moli there was even a sign, adorned with ISF logo, heralding the expectant change in gradient. I probably should have taken a photo but feared stopping even for a second may have a drastic knock-on effect on the single file line of traffic that had now formed behind, and ahead of, me. So we would climb 1000m in 3.5km - yes this VK really meant business! 

What a way to start a morning’s mountain running on the Costa Blanca!

I had no expectations or plans for the day other than to enjoy myself and discover some new hiking trails that I could return to and expand on in the future. The VK, scree and all, was just a taster of the climbing that lay in store as our route meandered through the Marina Baixa interconnecting a number of cols that allowed as to bisect ridge lines of sharp uninviting pinnacles and tall buttresses of white rock. The tracks a mix of fire road, Mozarabic trail, indiscernible mountain trods and tarmac, led us through olive groves, mountain pastures, rocky boulder fields and several mountain villages. Water and aid stations were well placed along the route although I quickly found myself turning to the gels in my pack for energy as the heat of the sun made dry food unappealing. 

Cresting Puig in the orange glow of a Mediterranean sunrise and the realisation that Benidorm’s skyline is eclipsed by the majestic mountains concealed behind. A just reward for anyone venturing to Puig Campana’s summit. At 1408m, and only ninety minutes into the race I had already climbed higher than The Ben.

Ponotx’s kinder side, Bérnia and Montgó omnipresent in the background.

A marshal had been camped out on Puig’s summit since the 100km race had passed through in the early hours.

Puig Campana made excellent work of dispersing the field however I rarely found myself without company and as fate would have it saw the female race unfurl around me as I shared the Penya de Sella ridge with the second lady, who would eventually go on to win, and the long climb back to Puig along the PR-CV 12 with the, then, leading lady. Conversation was sparse as my Spenglish did little but confuse! 

Heading for Col del Llamp below Ponotx’s western ridge.

Penyo de Cabal and Bernia

The tall white buttresses …

… and jagged pinnacles make up El Carrascal

The view from Port de l’Arc. One of the lesser but none the easier climbs in the middle of the course.

Of course the pinnacle of the day was Aitana. The climb was long and tiresome. Fortunately the aid station, just 2.5km out of Benifato, was complemented further up by fuente’s (water fountain) that offered a refreshing dunk under ice cold runoff. There was always an impressive vista to distract from the exertion with the Bérnia ridge and Montgó omnipresent on the northern horizon. Approaching the false summit of Aitana (the true summit a closed military installation) we passed under the shadow of pine trees. At 5000 feet and with an absence of heat as the winter sun passed too low through the sky the trail was littered with frost. A first for me in Spain!

One of the tall pinnacles comprising the Partagat

As the climb briefly levelled off the track gave way to boulder fields.

Imposing buttresses on the Partagat looking across to the Serella

Looking back across the Guadelest valley to Serella and Bernia

The “golf ball” on Aitana’s summit

The scree and scramble to Aitana’s summit in the company of one of the two Brits on the 100km course.

From the summit the view was impressive! Far away across the water we could make out Ibiza (not in the photo though!) while to the north-east Montgó was omnipresent. 

The terrain on top was similar to Montgó’s own plateau with a barely discernible path over sharp and jagged limestone rock. I was in my element and once again picking off runners. 

The back half of the course was dominated by fire road and long gradual descents/ascents. Which probably explains how I managed for the first time in a race to negative split as my average pace fell from 20 to 15 minute miles. Fortunately the ever changing landscape was a distracting lure from the monotony of the road. It was also broken up by a couple of very exciting descents.

The start of the descent to Sella. Puig in the background.

Of which the barely perceptible track from Coll de Travessa to Sella was the most technical of the entire route with plenty of insecure rock and scree to lose footing on. Ahead of me a runner fell hard on his back. “Estas bien?” I enquired. He did not respond. “Vale?” I tried. Still no response. Third time lucky: “You OK?” “Yeah but this is no fun with 80km in my legs!” It was another Brit, in fact I believe the other Brit of the two that were in the longer race! I had no time to stop and talk. I was putting into practice the techniques and skills I had perfected mastering Montgó’s eastern descent, and again passing numerous runners, as I skied the scree and tip-toed over the jagged limestone. The legs felt good and in no time I had covered the 2000 foot drop into the hot feed station at Sella. My confidence in my descending only grows and as a little race within the race I was stoked to find my way into another Strava top 10 (despite a long overdue toilet stop half way down!)

The jagged towers of the Castellets

The dream finish wasn’t to be as, no sooner did I hit the long downhill to Finestrat, I cramped up. The fire roads and the steep switchback ascent onto Puig’s north-western wall had taken its toll and the legs were exhausted. I refused to give up though and following some painful stretching I was able to run the cramp off and maintain enough pace to cross the finish line in under ten hours. A race with no expectations other than to enjoy myself and finish before sundown and I just finished in the top 10 veterans!

First time my name has made the first sheet at a European mountain race

It was the usual electric atmosphere at the finish with music pumping and Spanish voices filling the air. A vast dish of paella was under constant supervision. I was starving, it was free, so I did not object picking around the large chunks of meat that dominated my plate! Sometimes it helps to be British as the barman saw my needs and kindly gave me a second beer on the house. 

Tired, dehydrated and a little deranged how lucky I was to be whisked up by Ian and Olwen for food, more beer and ultimately a long night of sleep ahead of three more days of hiking in the Costa Blanca. Having been in my peripheral vision for much of the day, the Bernia Ridge and Montgó were calling.

I hope the photos and my words have done this event justice as the Costa Blanca Trails is a truly excellent race with challenging climbs and ultimately stunning views. Well worth checking out!