The hardest week Four out of seven days run, 47 km done, and all okay. The next 42 km I’ll run Saturday as if they will take me across halfway on race-day; take the run up from Kirstenbosch to Constantia Nek as if its the big Inchanga Bank. Run up Suiberbossie,...
Notes from the 1967 Comrades: Another record of 600 entrants; threats from traffic authorities to stop the race because of congestion. The winner, Manie Kuhn crosses the line 12 inches (maybe 30 cm) in front of Tommy Malone collapsing and lunging; there was no finish...
If I thought about it, getting ready to run this morning would have been a grind. But as I stepped out the door, something strong surged in me. On the ups on the way home it surged again and again. I got home to the news of the Boston marathon blast. The fun went out...
As I go out now to get more miles in my legs, my mind turns to the Big Day. The good thing is that the agony comes later in the run. I’ll start happy. Let the hanging-in creep up, take over the closer to the end the better. After Polly Shorrts is okay....
If it wasn’t for the Comrades urge, I would have stayed in bed. Wind chilled the dark cold. Bed felt good. The roads loudly called me out to accumulate more miles. Before even 1 km it was all okay. I could have gone on but I ran till I was pumped, flirted with...
