Comrades is like an addiction I can't shake off

It's like a drug I'm addicted to and to which I keep going back to get another fix.

I know it will hurt me at the end, but I like the high, the adrenalin rush it gives me. At the finish line, I'm in excruciating pain and walking like a duck, but I feel like I'm on top of the world. I have just finished my fourth Comrades Marathon, the Ultimate Human Race, this year running down from Pietermaritzburg to Durban. Though a down-run in terms of altitude, the terrain, is anything but a run down the hills!

Starting outside the City Hall in Pietermaritzburg, we ran the 90.1km course to Durban through an undulating terrain of hills. I had completed three comrades marathons before, but after three years of not running due to injuries and the Covid-19 pandemic, it certainly felt like I was there for the very first time.

Running is an individual sport and people have different experiences with it. It's a personal time for others, a time to distress, and for others a time to reflect. For me ultra-marathons are about friendships, selflessness and the camaraderie, the true spirit of the Comrades Marathon.

The marathon was started in 1921 as a memorial to commemorate South African soldiers who died in World War I. Running the marathon is like going to war, and what a better way to go to war than with friends and people you have a common enemy with. So, even when I might have a targeted finishing time, I dread the thought of running 90km alone.

After the euphoria of singing the National Anthem and Shosholoza, we set off in the dark with my club mates from Fat Cats. I was the self-appointed leader of the pack and determined to help everyone through the journey. The support on the road is always amazing; there're scores of people cheering us on, calling you by your name. Our names are printed on the race numbers, so it makes it easy for people to identify you.

We passed Cato Ridge where literally only two people can run side-by-side because of the number of supporters encroaching on the road supporting and wanting to spot their loved ones. I meet my family cheering me at 37km and I stop for a quick photo. Seeing a familiar face on the side of the road is like a second wind that propels you. You are encouraged to be strong and keep going.

Everything went smoothly until we reached the mighty Inchanga, Drummond and Botha Hills. This is the hardest part of the down-run and the plan here was not to leave anyone behind, we encouraged each other to call for walks when needed. Other runners hopped on our bus while others couldn't keep up and fell off.

I was with two other clubmates and three other runners from other clubs. There are famous hills throughout the route, but it's the less known ones that drain the last sweat out of you. The climb to Hillcrest made me question my sanity for being there. At this point we have covered 55km, my legs were getting fatigued and in pain, and I knew the next 18km of down-running is going to be a bloodbath.

At this point I indicated to the guys to make up for some lost time and pick up pace in between a few walks. Those who want to move faster can go ahead, I tell them. One runner flew past while the rest of us stuck together. 

We went strongly down towards Pinetown before the wheels began to come off. It was now my time to call for walks, I needed to be carried to the finish line. I needed people around me more than ever. My clubmate Lehlohonolo Moate stuck with me after I shouted that there was no way he is leaving me behind after I carried everyone to that point.

We were now 75km into the race and felt it was pointless to leave anyone behind if we are still to make it in under 10 hours. My walks suddenly became too slow; a hand would hold me and drag me forward. I appreciated the two runners who were now on either side of me.

The next 15km were all about moving forward, running or walking we needed to move. At that point stopping to greet a friend or taking pictures is a risk you don't want to take. You might not be able to move forward again after that. I thought I knew the route fairly well, but in the last 6km every time I thought we are done with the hills, there would be another hill coming up.

The last 10km is fairly flat but after running 80km in one day, anything flat looks like a hill because you still have to work all the way going forward. Even the finish venue, the Moses Mabhida Stadium, looked like it was moving away as we got closer. Getting in through the stadium tunnel towards the field, you emerge to rapturous applause of people screaming and celebrating your victory.

Yes, victory. To finish this epic race, no matter the time, is a personal triumph that no one else will ever know anything about until they run and finish the Comrades.

Moate and I finished in 9 hours 39 minutes to receive our beautiful Robert Mtshali medals.

Expect to still see my medal hanging proudly around my neck for the next two weeks!