The Cape Town Marathon!

Cape Town! You delivered!

It was a perfect race day: race organisation, weather, route, atmosphere. Everything just clicked. This city has passed the test and is on track to become the next Abbott Major!

There is something special about having a big race on your doorstep. The start and finish line are at the stadium, the giant circular building in the photo below. We live right next to it. This meant zero logistics – and the rare luxury of doing a nervous wee at home before casually strolling to the start line. For once, no portapotties!

Kai walked me to the start and then jumped onto his bike. We had planned a strategy with military precision: he would see me at kilometres 10, 21 and 30, when things would probably start falling apart. He was a man with a mission.

The race started at 8am, with my wave going off a few minutes later. We settled into a comfortable pace and, little by little, the pre-race nerves started to fade. My body felt good and for the first time that morning, I allowed myself to feel quietly optimistic. In my head, I was aiming for something around 3:20. But as every marathoner knows, a lot can happen over 42 kilometres.

The quieter opening sections actually felt good. I love crowd support, but having stretches without noise gave me time to focus, check my pace and remember important stuff like eating gels before reaching full existential crisis mode.

Just when my brain started drifting, we reached halfway. Cheering crowds, noise, energy! Familiar faces! Seeing Kai with our friends there gave me an instant boost.

I glanced at my Garmin.

1:36.

Oooh, wait a sec! If I played this right, a sub-3:15 might actually be happening! Let’s do this!

To keep the pace up, I started a little “Green Bib Game” with the Abbott Age Group Championship runners. They were easy to spot with their green bibs and age groups on their backs. The objective was simple: overtake as many as possible. Bonus points for every runner I passed who was younger than me. Completely irrational, but surprisingly effective.

One of the joys of racing your home course is knowing exactly what’s coming. I looked forward to getting back into town. More crowds. More familiar faces. More running club friends shouting my name while I attempted to look significantly stronger than I actually felt.

Kai and our friend Mike caught me again around kilometre 30, just after the steepest climb.

And then, at kilometre 35, the hardest part: the Loop of Death.

Listen to this: the route takes you PAST the finish line.

PAST IT.

You see the stadium. You see salvation. You can hear the speaker at finish line.

But the course says:

“Not yet.”

Off you go for a few bonus kilometres along the promenade. To make things even worse, you can see the runners who have already turned around and are heading back to the finish while you are still running away from it.

It absolutely destroys you. Crushes you in slow-motion.

BUT! I know this stretch well. I know every bend. Every crack in the pavement. I had rehearsed this moment more times than I can count.

Whatever happens:

DO.

NOT.

SLOW.

DOWN.

The temptation to somehow sneak across and join the runners on the opposite side felt very real. I looked around me and saw that everyone was fighting the same battle. I am sure this is the cruellest marathon finish in the world.

Somehow, I managed to hold it together and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Turning around and finally heading back towards the stadium felt glorious.

And then suddenly, there it was: the finish line.

3:12:50!

A new personal best! I was thrilled!

Cape Town, you absolute beauty!

(more results here)

• Have you ever found yourself playing strange little games mid-race?
• Ever run a race where you pass the finish line before you’re allowed to finish?

I am linking up with Jenny from Runners Fly and Jenn from Runs with Pugs for Tuesday Topics as well as Runners’ Roundup with Coach Debbie Runs, Confessions of a Mother Runner, Mile by Mile, and Runs with Pugs!