| NOTE: This is an article that I wrote in April 2000, which was published in the Beyond42 running magazine. As the Comrades marathon is being run in South Africa this month, I thought it appropriate to place the article on my blog. |
Christmas day is one of the few occasions when our family gets together as a family. It’s a time when we share our thoughts and plans for the future.
Throughout the day the wine and champagne had been flowing and everyone was starting to feel a little light-headed. The conversation had turned to sport and, in particular, running.
“Why don’t we three brothers run a marathon together?” my second eldest brother suggested. My eldest brother and I agreed that this was a fine idea. The conversation progressed and we all decided that a mere marathon was beneath us and we should be aiming much higher.
Two Oceans seemed much more appealing. A few drinks later and we had final set our goal on the Comrades Marathon. So that was that, June 16 was our date with destiny.
It’s 4am, June 16, 2000 – race day. I’m sitting on the tar road outside Durban City Hall, huddled with some 20 000 other runners. My mind is racing, asking questions which I dare not answer.
Have I done enough training? Will my knees and legs last the 87,3km or will my recurring injury come back? I start to panic as a little self-doubt begins to creep in. I force myself to change the subject. Think positive.
5am and the gun goes off. A huge wave of humans surge forward over the start line, while Chariots of Fire blares over the PA system in the background. I reach the 8km mark and feel exhausted, but I still have another 79km to go. How am I ever going to make it.
Despondent
I start to feel a little emotional and despondent, but I remind myself that I can’t give up now as I have put too much into this. There is one of the bailers’ busses. I must remember what they look like – I might be needing one of them later.
I battle along, kilometre after kilometre, trying to find ways to make the time go quicker. Next water station I will have a blue PowerAde, then the following one an orange PowerAde. That’s something to look forward to!
I wonder how far my brothers have got? The bailers’ bus is looking rather full. I hope they have still got room for one more! I don’t see any of my brothers sitting in there, so I suppose I can safely assume that they are still on the road.
Finally, I reach Drummond, the halfway mark. The side of the road is lined with an MTN station where runners can make free cellphone calls from the MTN phones. I entertain the thought of phoning 911 and report that I’m a runner in distress! Instead, I shuffle on.
Damn that Christmas day
I’m beginning to regret opening my mouth at lunch on Christmas day. There should be a warning label on alcohol bottles: “Warning to novice runners: Consumption of large quantities of this beverage may result in overstatement of running capabilities.”
There is another marker board. Oh no, still another 27km to go. I swear if I reach that bailers’ bus before it pulls off, I’m going to get in it.
Poly shorts – already? That’s only 7km from the finish. Where did all those kilometres go?
As I enter the stadium, seeing the crowds and sensing the finish, immense emotion overwhelms me and I struggle to fight back the tears. Fifty meters from the finish line I glance to the side of me to see a most welcome sight in the crowds, my brother applauding, mouthing the words: “Well done Alain, well done!”
As I cross the line I thrust my hands in the air and look skywards, as if to say “Thank you God, thank you for getting me through this.”
Then it finally hits me. I’m here; I have completed the ultimate human race. “Look Ma, I’m on top of the world!”
| NOTE: Both my brothers also finished the Comrades 2000 Marathon. |


