Modern Athlete Magazine Issue 129, April 2020 | Page 42

MULTISPORT
Hitting the Wall Hard!
Up until this point I had really been enjoying myself. I
was looking forward to lighting the braai and I figured
that if I got my timing right, I might be able to sit down
to eat, wallowing in the glory of a successful Home
Ironman finish. Before the event, Kathy was very
sceptical about the practicalities and sensibilities of
the braai plan. However, I was well ahead of schedule
and she showed renewed faith in her husband, even
jokingly asking whether I could “wash the dishes as
well?” I replied that she “shouldn’t push her luck,” but
for a fleeting moment did wonder whether I should
add dishwashing into the Home Ironman mix.
The Magic Dance
was the right
kind of sorcery to
keep me going
The Lights Go Out…
I was starting to get my mojo back when disaster
struck at 5:30pm. There was a loud bang in the
distance and the entire neighbourhood lost power –
and with the loss of power went my sense of humour.
Further losses were incurred to my overall time as I
tried to get the live streaming back online using a 3G
card on my laptop, with limited success.
Although I’d planned to light a braai, Kathy had made
a unilateral executive decision to veto my dinner
plans and was warming up the oven for supper when
the power went. I don’t think I would have been too
disappointed to drop the planned braai – I’d probably
have feigned some resistance, but would have been
glad to have no further distractions and let her cook
the dinner. However, Eskom removed the home-
cooked meal option, and since Minister Bheki Cele
had removed the take-way menu, the only option left
for a hot meal was the braai.
This is what I look
like without my sense
of humour
Luckily, my neighbour, Mike Fraser, chose this
moment to pop his head over (and his beer on) the
boundary wall to give me some encouragement. This
was exactly what I needed. It got my mind off the
pain, and I enjoyed the stilted conversation we had
as I passed him several times about two-thirds up the
driveway. (Mike is also the founder of 4c Recruitment,
which very generously donated R5000 to Just The
One Foundation.)
On the live stream, I had now been relegated to a
supporting role, with my youngest (and extremely
extroverted) daughter taking over the starring role.
She was performing all sorts of crazy tricks and
dances for the live streaming audience. I was told
that I needed to join her for the “Magic Dance,” and I
begrudgingly accepted the invitation, but was grateful
that I did. The distraction helped me forget about my
own aching body for a while, and on the back of this
sorcery was able to push the distance into the 20s.
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ISSUE 129 APRIL 2020 / www.modernathlete.co.za
I set myself a target of getting to 28km before lighting
the braai. I figured that I’d light the fire and then enjoy
a change of scenery by walking laps around the
perimeter of our property, which has a lot of uneven
cobblestones and slippery steps and was therefore
not suitable for running, to get to 30km. I was really
looking forward to this long walk, but after a few laps
I looked at the GPS and saw that the distance had
hardly moved. I don’t use Strava much and assume
that I was walking too slowly for the distance to count!
At that stage, my brain was too exhausted to try and
adjust technical settings, so the easiest option was
to hit the driveway and start running again. The next
seven lonely kilometres seemed to take an age. As
night fell, my wife came to the rescue by getting out
all the empty coffee jars we’d dutifully washed and
stored in the cupboard over the years. I mentioned
earlier that the ironing of the Ottosdal Nite Marathon
shirt in T2 was prophetic, as Kathy created my very
own Ottosdal Nite Marathon experience by lining the
driveway with lanterns.
As for my “braaiing whilst running a marathon” plan,
I’m declaring it a partial success. I did manage to
light the coals, get the potatoes on the braai (and turn
them a couple of times), and even got the meat onto
the grid. However, seeing the pitiful pangs of hunger in
our children’s eyes, Kathy’s maternal instincts kicked
in and she made another emasculating executive
decision. I was banished from the braai area and told
to “finish this damn thing.” (My memory is hazy at this
point… she may well have used stronger language.)
Get It Done!
Freed from the obligation to feed my wife and kids,
I quite enjoyed my exile to the driveway and the last
7km went surprisingly smoothly. I enjoyed a few over
the wall conversations with the Frasers, and at least
the rain had stopped, but the coldness of the night
air did nothing for my aching joints. Still, knowing
Those who’ve done endurance events know all about
the wall. I prefer to call it the trip switch. One minute
you’re running along without a care in the world, and
the next all pleasure has turned to pain, and your fun to
another word starting with ‘fu.’ The teenage kilometres
were tumultuous. I spent most of them locked away
deep inside the pain cave. Whilst my driveway is a lot
more attractive than Welkom, even tiny ultra-marathons
in this Free State town provide the opportunity for
some interaction with other runners, and I typically
distract myself over many kilometres by chatting
to other runners on the road. There were no such
distractions from the drudgery of my driveway.