Percy.

The day before Comrades was a superb introduction to the day itself.  Thanks to my Greenville friends Mike (8 Comrades) and Ashley (2 Comrades) for the invitation to lunch at the Durban Country Club. They introduced me to their South African friends, several Comrades Veterans.  They were all gracious, funny, and full of helpful tips. 

Our host, Rod Pearson (Percy) has run 20 Comrades and was one of the most charming gents I have met.  Mike met him during his first Comrades run.  A few years back, Percy ran a sub 7:30 Comrades for a silver medal- UNBELIEVABLE.  The next year, he wanted to try something different and decided to be the last man to finish on the clock.  The only stipulation was that he had to be in the top 10 for the first 30K.  At 30K he was number 8! What to do but veer off for a mushroom omelet at a cafe off course? After that, he was full but back on course.  He kept on running and then broke off for a pint or two at a pub in Drummond.  Then back on course running and running, and then off for more beers and meeting friends at a pub in Camperdown.  As he exited the race course for Beer Stop # 2 he explained to the course monitor that he was running the race, going to meet a friend at a pub and would be returning and to please remember him.  The monitor replied “I have heard people talking all day and that is the first thing anyone said that made any damn sense!”

So Percy drank, got lost, and returned to the race course.  He made it to the stadium with the clock ticking in the last seconds of the cutoff. He missed being last (and counted) by 7 seconds.  “My mistake was that I wore an analog watch!”


After the encouraging lunch we returned to our hotel rooms for pre race eve prep.  This involved assembling my race stuff - big black sunglasses, gu, cliff shot blocks, charged garmin, pinning my race number on front and back, arranging my socks and shoes, my Angel coin (on loan from Marett) in race pants pocket and lacing my chip onto my shoes.  I waited with my feet propped and the window open to the Indian Ocean. I slept well.

I was giddy but not nervous. Not because I felt invincible, just ready and lucky.  I knew something unexpected would happen and had no idea what. But, whatever came, it was happening to me at Comrades. In South Africa. And I was relishing it.

Greenville's air smells so good.

I am home!  Long trip, no sleep- afraid to write!  I need a good editor in this delirum. More to come...
Thank you-
AK

Number 1 on Life List: Comrades. Check!

The race is done.  It was a nearly unbelievable experience. I say nearly unbelievable because it was quite painful, so there was no need for me to pinch myself.  But honestly, without brilliant memory assist of pain, I might question my recall.

The start was dark and crowded.  It was slightly chilly, but perfect.  There were so many people but each were corralled by qualifying times so it was pretty well organized.  In my coral I met up with one of the gents we met for lunch at the Durban CC day prior.  I started with his running club.  In South Africa, runners belong to running clubs and they have uniforms. 

The South African National Anthem was sung followed my Shosholoza, a traditional African folk song. google Shosholoza- Lady Blacksmith Mambazo sings it.  Chariots of Fire was played and a rooster crowed. 3 times, I think.  The gun was fired we were off! The course was beautiful, there were several times running up a long - (some nearly a mile, I think) unnamed hill that I had full views of rolling green hills or of the city the entire climb.  I actually have a few suggestions for hill names…  As I ran, I started hurting earlier than I thought, but my head and lungs felt great.  I never thought "I can't finish" and I never thought “why am I doing this?” So I call it a great run.

Some of you were following me online which is so cool.  Knowing you were all reading my blog was a hand helping push me along. While I knew you would all be supportive had I not finished, that was not the story I wanted to tell! So again, thank you.

Jimmy, Hal and Arthur actually saw me finish on the computer- so cool! Nellica and Johan saw me on South African TV!  I will have more posts on the race later as I process highlights, but I wanted to let you know I was thinking of you all and that I finished in 10 hours and 8 minutes. Woo hoo!
 Cheers!

Peace or Ignorance?

I am runner 12389 and it is Race Eve.  I had breakfast on the Indian Ocean. Lunch at the Durban Country Club with Greenville friends and their South African friends. (more later) The table was full of Comrades Vets and their stories. I felt like I was in a movie. A Comedy. I have already dropped off my post race bag (yes, running friends- isn’t that a great idea- the day before!) I even bumped into Klaus my tour guide. And am sitting with my feet propped.  I feel great- The energy for the race is so positive and communal.  The taxi drivers ask if I am running and have advice, the hotel is full of runners.  People are running a short slow shakeout run on the beach. Dinner will be early as will bed.  The race starts at 5:30 AM here which is 11:30 PM Saturday night EST.  The race ends 11:30AM EST Sunday morning. 


Tomorrow has a lot of unknown for me.  I have never run a harder course, I have never run this far. But, I am grateful to be at the start line healthy and with all of you guys yelling behind me.  Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!
Curtsy.

Hello from South Africa

Hello Friends!

Just a quick check in.  I will flesh out details soon, but I wanted you to know that I have arrived well in Durban.  My travels were smooth and more roomy than expected- I had an empty row!  (Which I decided to share part of with a claustrophobic vet from Birmingham on his way to hunt lions.) An empty next seat on a 15 hour flight was a huge bonus.

I mentioned earlier that my friend Amanda had arranged with for her cousin Nellica to host me in Jo burg. I anticipated kindness, as Amanda is so funny and thoughtful, and I assumed Nellica would not have offered had she not been generous to begin with.  But, any expectation I had paled in comparison with my experience. Truly, I could not have imagined a better stay with more dear people. More on Nellica and Johan later…

After arriving  in Durban yesterday, I picked up my number at the Expo. Today, I took a ride in a bus for 6 hours over the course. There were taxi issues at my hotel, so I arrived just in time to catch a bus- I quickly boarded the chartered bus, sat down, smiled at my seat mate.  Something was  “off”.  No one was speaking English! Then, I looked around and realized I'd been directed to the Brazilian and German bus.   hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!  Seriously.  Me, Klaus, Hans, Frans, Greta, Andreas, Phillipe, Maria, Antonia…  Yep.  So I listened to the tour in German and then small parts were translated into English for me and the Brazilians.  Take a moment to get a mental picture.

The course is hilly. And 56 miles. Wait no, not hilly, it is mountainous.  *Note to self-if the tour of the course is 6 hours, the run is formidable.* There are five major hills with names (seriously they are mountains!), each with a billboard sign announcing the start of it.  But what surprised me were the hills with no names.  Long stretches going up.  So many hills that the only flat part of the course has a name-Harrison Flats.  Anyway, I am prepared to start slow. 
To be continued!

Oh!  I can get email at akfreeland@me.com 

Lucky.

I leave today!  Woo hoo!  I am packed and ready for the adventure to start.  Thank you for all of your support and encouragement.  If you'd like, you can email me at akfreeland@me.com - I should be able to get it!

I feel so loved and supported. More on this later, but thank you for the calls, emails, runs and more runs, knitting, singing, reading my work...  Lady Luck is a good friend of mine but you guys trump even the best luck!  All my love- AK

Here is a prose poem generated in my writing group a few weeks ago that I thought you'd enjoy as I fly.

Lucky.

I have been meaning to tell you, I am lucky. I am not having a nervous breakdown.  I am not going to South Africa to look for myself, or run away from who I am, or get away from it all.  I know it is not the vacation itinerary planned by most around here. Running 56 miles may not sound like a lucky break.  I have heard “I go that far in my car, I run if I am being chased” So you may call it punishment, I call it lucky.

I see that you think it odd for me to go alone.  You even need explain that you could never be away from your kids so long.  Well, what you need to know is that I am lucky.  I can.  Truth be told, I do not want to be apart from them for that long.  Not because I am worried about them, but because I would love to hear their observations. I am lucky that my family does not skip a big beat when I am gone.  They will have the Potty Talk Perfection Tour 2011 and want to see me, but they know I am coming home soon with hugs and kisses overflowing out of my bag.

But still, you ask, aren’t you afraid to go alone?  I tell you, a little, but truth be told, I am not.  I will be careful, I know rules are different.  But the eyes I will see there are the eyes of people, like you and me.  People can smell it when you are afraid of them.  Well, on me they will smell Chanel no.5 or maybe sweat, because I am not afraid, I am lucky.  I’ll meet friends.  They may or may not know what I am saying, but when I laugh they get it.  And when they smile, I get it.  And when we have dinner, these friends and I, they will know that I am worried about what to order not because of the fit of a dress, but because of how it will feel at mile 40.  They will be worried too.  And they will think about about how clear their pee should be the day before.  And if they have trained enough, and what to say to the beast when, not if, it appears. They will understand when I say, I might have a blister, not to get a band aid, but a lancet and moleskin. And, when I say I don’t think I can make it, they will say you will.

And they will know, without a word, that it is time for us all to go to our beds.  And they will know how much I think about my boys when I am running. And that my secret to training is to tell my boys how far I am going to run, then they ask if I made it when I get home. They know that love does not preclude adventure, it generates it, even solo. Still you ask, why?  I do it because my friends are expecting me.  Yes, the same friends I haven’t yet met.

Why Comrades?

THE Race.
It is the oldest and largest ultra in the world. A WWI veteran, Vic Clapham, wanted to commemorate his fallen comrades in a unique way.  He wanted to put physical frailties to the test in a spirit of camaraderie and display of will. He asked for permission to stage a 56 mile race from Pietermaritzburg to Durban and was denied two years.  The third year, permission was granted and the first Comrades Marathon took place in 1921. This year 18,000 people have registered.

It is called “The Ultimate Human Race.” It has been number one on my running (and life) list since I read Amby Burfoot’s article, “The Famous Comrades Marathon” in Runner’s World several years ago.  The route is historic: it runs “up” from Durban, SA to Pietermaritzburg, then the following year runs “down” starting in Pietermaritzburg.  There are groups called buses (runners no wheels)- you “get on a bus” to chat and help each other when it gets tough, and it will. You can get on and off the bus, find a different bus or run alone. No intro to Comrades would be complete without a nod to the worldwide sports momentous ending- the twelve hour cutoff. Any runner not finished in 12 hours by the clock, not chip time, does not get a medal and will not be counted. For years, many runners tried to help steady and even carry fellow runners across the line.  It is no longer allowed due to the danger of moving someone that may best lie still.

Africa.
In my first (and only) visit to southern Africa (Zimbabwe and Zambia) I felt as if I was exactly where I was supposed to be.  Whatever I was doing, writing, riding a bus, running, I was doing it exactly where it should be done.  All of my senses were in the front seat. In the bush- the smells of burning wood, cornmeal, lemons -in town, babies wrapped in bright scarves on their mothers backs, the dust, the baobab trees, the Southern Cross.  It was both stimulating and calming, if you can believe it. There was a contentment and seemingly unjustified familiarity that I can neither explain nor deny. When I close my eyes and recall being there- my shoes squeaking on the waxy tile floors and the smells of citrus and soot, I liken it to the feeling my friend described having as he walked into his grandmother’s house for a visit and smelling her Sunday sauce on the stove.