With Comrades just around the corner, it was time to do something reckless: run really far for “fun”. Last weekend, I did just that – 60km, an early start, and limp legs by kilometre 50.
Luckily, I wasn’t alone. About 40 runners from my club are doing Comrades this year, so we organised a “Comrades Long Run”: two support cars on a well-tested coastal route. In South Africa, ultras somehow feel normal, almost casual. People talk about 60km the way others talk about Parkrun PBs. It’s weird – and also kind of wonderful.
I had ordered an Uber for 5am. The driver – a cheerful Zimbabwean man in a suit and tie – was headed to church at 10. He was also preaching that day, sermon already prepped. “Want to practise it on me?” I asked. He did. We got so into it, we missed a turn. But I arrived spiritually enriched and only a few seconds late.
We set off at 5:37. The early pace was a matchmaking game: who fits whose rhythm. I ended up with Graham and William, two guys in their 40s running faster than me, but with a habit of lingering at the support car. Perfect. I’d drop back, then catch up again while they snacked. A pacing strategy made in heaven.
The support cars were our lifelines – water, electrolytes, bananas and moral support. But they also turned into black holes of dawdling. We lingered, we chatted, we cooled off. On Comrades day, there’ll be no such luxury. Just grab, gulp, go. No dawdling, no detours. The clock won’t stop – and that sub-9 goal won’t wait.
My view usually looked like this – Graham and William far ahead of me:
Kendra was the driver of support car no. 1. Like many runners here, she has already done Comrades.
Brendan and his wife (middle two) in support car no. 2, here with William and Graham.
At kilometre 38, things started to unravel. One of my gels was missing – I could have sworn I packed six. (I found the guilty one in the laundry later.) Then, at kilometre 40, we had to wait nearly 5 minutes for the support car to arrive – it was helping other runners behind us. On top of this, Graham and William were done at kilometre 50 (as planned), while I headed home solo for the last 10. The last 10km were brutal. My pace didn’t drop, but it felt like an epic battle: no support car, no pacing partners – just me, my legs, and that voice in my head asking why I do this to myself. Turns out, companionship matters more than I realised.
Some lessons for race day:
- Sticky hands are my nemesis. Gels = glue. Next time: carry a buff or tissue — anything to avoid becoming a sticky mess.
- Fuelling matters. I didn’t pack enough gels and the missing one came back to haunt me. Those last 10 km felt like wading through wet cement.
- Don’t fall in love with the aid station. They’re meant to support, not seduce.
- Start slow, then go slower. That classic Comrades mantra worked here. Let’s hope race-day hype doesn’t bulldoze that wisdom.
In the week that followed, I backed up the 60km with two back-to-back 30km runs. Strangely, 30 now feels short. It’s wild how quickly our brains adapt when we show them what’s possible.
Meanwhile, Eliud Kipchoge was actually in Cape Town last week! Spotted on the Sea Point promenade – my usual stomping ground. I can’t believe I missed him! I may never recover.
With three weeks to go, race day is looming. Next on the list: lock in the race strategy. Stay tuned!
- How do you deal with sticky fingers?
- Aid stations – do you sometimes linger longer than you intended?
I’m joining Runs with Pugs and The Running Teacher’s link-up, Tuesday Topics. I’m also joining Runner’s Roundup with Mile By Mile, Coach Debbie Runs, Confessions of a Mother Runner and Runs with Pugs.
Liebe Catrina,
was für eine super Vorbereitung! Fehler eingebaut, deren Tragweite du gleich spüren durftest (Gel daheim nützt nix) und viel richtig gemacht, was du wiederholen wirst. Und dann die letzten 10k, die waren das perfekte mentale Training, weil du weißt, auch wenn es sauhart ist, du schaffst das!
Ich musste so lachen, bei deinem Satz, dass 60km so “alltäglich” klingen. Das kenne ich von meinem Verein, wenn plötzlich alle (naja, einige halt) Ultratriathlons machen, und man sich gar nichts mehr dabei denkt. 😉
Liebe Doris,
das war es wirklich! Und das fiese Gel – das hatte ich tatsächlich die ganzen 60 km mitgeschleppt. Es war irgendwo tief im Rucksack verschwunden und kam erst später fein säuberlich gewaschen aus der Wäsche… 🙄
Du hast völlig recht: Gerade die letzten 10 km waren pures Mentaltraining. Zum Glück werde ich beim richtigen Lauf nicht allein unterwegs sein – das war echt hart.
Und ja, das mit den 60 km ist einfach schräg. Man verliert total das Gefühl für Distanzen. Ultratriathlon ist da wirklich noch mal eine andere Liga – da wirkt so ein Long Run plötzlich fast gemütlich. 😅 Aber genau das macht’s auch aus: Das Absurde wird normal.
Liebe Grüsse aus dem völlig verregneten, grauen Cape Town!
60 km, just another long run, haha! You’re in such impressive form to do things like that and then some 30k runs the week after!
That road looks so desolate (at that time of they anyway, I imagine) and I can imagine the support people and running friends make a difference.
Well done and keep up the good work!
I think the Boston training really set me up well for Comrades – but I’ll admit, I’m also looking forward to a quieter summer in Switzerland this year!
And you’re absolutely right – that road is properly deserted at that hour. But in a good way: no traffic, just the sound of the ocean as we ran. Still, I was so grateful for the support crew and running friends – they were absolute gold. 😍
Thanks for the encouragement, Susanne! I’ll keep grinding! 💪
Was für eine akribisch-perfekte und gut gelaunte Vorbereitung! Manchmal frage ich mich ja, ob bei euch UltrathonnInnen der Antrag ans Universum auf Tages-, Wochen-, Monatszeitverlängerung erfolgreich mit “Ja, genehmigt” beschieden wurde … was ein Aufwand auch an Zeit … der Wahnsinn! Andererseits: wenn man so schnell läuft wie du, sind 60 Kilometer ja quasi wie bei mir einmal “ums Eck” 😉
Oh ja, Lizzy, der Zeitaufwand ist wirklich RIESIG! Ich bin ehrlich gesagt froh, wenn diese Phase mit den ultralangen Läufen vorbei ist. Im Moment dreht sich gefühlt alles ums Training, Essen, Schlafen… und nochmal Training. 😅
Mir gefällt deine Idee! Vielleicht sollten wir diesen Antrag auf Zeitverlängerung wirklich mal offiziell stellen – am besten rückwirkend! 😄
Aber du hast recht: irgendwo macht es ja auch Spass, sonst würden wir’s nicht tun.
Liebe Grüsse aus dem nasskalten und grauen Cape Town!
So so, liebe Catrina,
da machst du einfach mal 60 km … und dann wird sowas normal ! 😉 Toll, dass du dich durchgebissen hast!
Aber so spiritually enriched musste das doch was werden und konnte gar nicht schief gehen! 🙏 Das hast du mir jetzt sogar voraus. Obwohl ich Pastor (in 1. Ausbildung) bin und anfangs selbst gepredigt habe, so spiritually enriched bin ich noch nie zu einem Lauf gekommen!
Mentales Training war inkludiert, jetzt bist du präpariert. Alles weitere ist Zubrot … aber nicht mehr verletzen oder krank werden! Ich drücke dir die Daumen und denke auch immer wieder mal in Richtung Südafrika!
Liebe Grüße Manfred
Lieber Manfred
Haha, ja – es ist schon verrückt, wie schnell sich das eigene Normal verschiebt! Vor einem Jahr hätten mir 60 km noch wie eine Mondmission vorgekommen.
Der liebe Simbabwe-Pastor war wirklich nett, und ich bin sicher, seine Predigt hat mich beflügelt. Während dem Lauf habe ich um 10 Uhr auf die Uhr geschaut und gedacht, dass er gerade predigt. Vielleicht brauche ich so einen Pastor am Wettkampftag – für die letzte Portion Motivation und den nötigen Segen! 😉
Das mentale Training war auf jeden Fall Gold wert. Jetzt gilt es nur noch, gesund zu bleiben, keine dummen Fehler zu machen und die Ruhe vor dem Sturm zu geniessen.
Vielen Dank für deine guten Wünsche – liebe Grüsse aus dem momentan ziemlich grauen Cape Town!
Those views!!!
I can’t imagine a world in which 30 km ever felt short (or doable!) to me, but I’ll never say never.
I love your key takeaways. It sounds like you’ve set yourself up for success, and I hope in addition to getting the time you’re hoping for in the race, there are moments of sheer fun.
The last 10 km of your 60 km do NOT sound fun, but you made it through! I can only dream of the mental fortitude that must take and help cement. Wow. I remain in absolute awe of distance runners.
In bright sunshine, the views are even better – actually spectacular. You should come and visit one day!
Uff, I couldn’t have imagined 30 km ever feeling short either – until suddenly it did. 😅 It’s wild how training reshapes our sense of “normal”!
And yes, those last 10 km were brutal, but also invaluable – now I know I can hang on when it gets grim.
Thanks for the kind words, Elisabeth! I’ll definitely be chasing that sub-9 goal, but I also hope to soak up the full magic of Comrades along the way!
I can’t wrap my head around running that many miles. You are amazing.
I have lost a gel and it gets in your head. And yes those sticky fingers.
You’ve got this!! Can’t wait to hear how it goes.
I know, right, Darlene? It’s wild how much of it is mental – once your brain accepts the distance, your body just follows.
And yes… that missing gel! I couldn’t stop thinking about it the last 20km. 😅
Thanks for the encouragement – let’s see how it all plays out!
Lessons learned during these practice runs are what make race day successes. I’m sure you will know exactly where every gel is located and very likely will carry a spare just in case. Do you know how much runners spread out during Comrades? Will someone be within view at most times or might you run alone? I can see lingering at aide stations during a training run, but I’m sure you’ll remind yourself to use them as intended – a place to restock on fuel and fluids, and get medical attention/supplies for minor issues.
Sticky fingers are my nemesis. How frustrating for you to have an ocean of water nearby, but no way to get the sticky gel off your fingers. “Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to clean sticky fingers.” 😉
Ah, to miss seeing Eliud Kipchoge while he was in Cape Town must be so disappointing!
Debbie, you nailed it. The dry runs are where the real learning happens. I’ll definitely be triple-checking my gel stash next time (and yes, there will be a spare!).
As for Comrades, I hear it’s such a massive field that there’s always someone nearby, even in the quieter stretches – I’m imagining that it will be similar to Boston. I’m counting on that – I really needs other runners and crowds cheering you on.
And you’re right, I hope that on race day, aid stations will be all business… even in the later part of the race, where things get tough.
Also, your sticky-finger line made me laugh out loud! So true. There was water everywhere, just not the kind I could actually use. 😅
And yes, still gutted I missed Kipchoge. What are the odds?
Thanks so much for your thoughtful comment. I always appreciate your insights!
Too funny! Love the Uber driver sermon to pepp you for your 60km. Maybe day of, you will need such a sermon😅💦 I bet you thought about his words during your 60km. Perhaps those last 10km were when you remembered it most?🤔
Argh Sticky fingers are horrible anytime. I always have one of those microfiber cloths w me. I tuck into the short waistline. Useful accessory. Will you be running Comrades w a vest?
Haha, yes, I definitely thought of the pastor – right at 10am when he would have been starting his sermon! I will definitely need one of those sermons on race day too. 😅
And no, I won’t be running Comrades with a vest. Not because of the heat, but because there will be plenty of aid stations – hopefully stocked with the right gels (Maurten, fingers crossed). The microfibre cloth is a great idea though! Sticky fingers drive me mad, and your trick of tucking it into the waistband sounds genius. Might have to steal that! 🙌😃
There are certain things that I do not miss about running, and gels are high on the list! They were always so hard to open, and the likeilhood of making a mess was always high. Blerg!
From everything that I’ve read about ultras, it sounds like the aid stations are so fun! So I can see how I might end up lingering.
WHAT A MINUTE STOP THE PRESSES!!!! I have no interest in running but I do have an interest in aid stations…I could get that experience if I volunteered at an ultra…looks like I have yet another activity for my retirement bucket list.
Absolutely, Birchie! We NEED volunteers like you at ultras! Aid station crews are everything out there. They’re not just handing out snacks – they keep us moving, cheer us on when we’re wobbling, and somehow make us believe we’ve still got 30k left in the tank.
And yes, I agree, ultra aid stations are way more fun than the grab-and-go chaos of road races. I heard that there will be potatoes with salt at Comrades, my absolute favourite! Forget gels – give me those salty carbs any day.
Volunteering at an ultra would be such a brilliant retirement bucket list item. You’d love it – and the runners would love YOU! 🙌😃
What a fun run adventure. Distance and no speed as goal! I would love to join one. And you missed Kipchoge? I wouldn’t be able to recover that either.
Also,
On firming, 60km seems to long to fuel on gels alone. I’ll have to mix up.
Totally agree, Coco. Gels alone get so monotonous over that kind of distance. I’ll definitely be mixing it up on race day with some real food at the aid stations. Potatoes with salt are my go-to!
And yes, missing Kipchoge still stings. I’m trying to focus on the 60k adventure to soothe the wound, but let’s be honest… it’s not the same. 😅
Would be awesome to share a no-pressure, distance-over-speed run one day. They really are a different kind of fun!
Agreed…sticky fingers are the worst! While I don’t use gels anymore (‘cause my tummy revolts in a very nasty way post-finish line), I well remember all the stickiness from races/runs past. NO matter how well I thoroughly I wiped my fingers, they STILL felt sticky no matter how much sweat, grime or water they came in contact with, LOL. This sounds like a great training run, though, even with the delayed stops at the aid stations. Nice job pushing through in the final 10K! YOU got the grit!!
Es klingt wie Musik in meinen Ohren, meine Augen sind wässrig, wenn ich von deinem langen Lauf lese, wobei 60 Kilometer sind ja geradezu ein Klacks !! ( Spaß !!). Aber das ist eine Strecke, die ich gerne mochte, frag’ mich nicht warum, irgendwie war es meine Strecke. Man war noch nicht ganz so kaputt, aber man hatte schon einiges hinter sich gelassen !!
Du hast gekämpft, wie ich es nicht anders von dir erwartet hätte, gehört dazu, wie die Butter aufs Brot. Bravissimo, liebe Catrina, du hast es wieder einmal geschafft, auch wenn du dich unterwegs gefragt hast, warum tue ich das ?? Das kommt mir sehr bekannt vor, habe ich es oft genug erlebt ! Aber das Gefühl, durchgehalten zu haben, erhobenen Hauptes und stolzer Brust im Ziel einzuwackeln, das nimmt uns keiner !!
Und die ” läppischen ” zusätzlichen 20 Kilometer beim Comrades schaffst du genauso, ich bin sicher . Glückwunsch !! Wir Frauen sind halt stark – oder ??? Das muss uns erst mal einer nachmachen !!😉
Und nun schön aufpassen, damit du dann in die Vollen steigen kannst – Daumen sind……….weißt ja …..wie immer feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeest gedrückt – Ehrensache !!