Modern Athlete Magazine Issue 129, April 2020 | Page 43

MULTISPORT
My concentrated
Strava run squiggle
With a neighbourhood
power outage, there was
no choice but to braai
that the end was in sight, I was able to build a good
momentum and knocked off laps at a decent pace.
Tom, with eight Ironmen and one Comrades finish
to his name, had told me, “They are about the
same in terms of overall physical exhaustion.
However, Comrades is the most painful thing I’ve
ever experienced in my entire life.” My view is that
Comrades is still peerless when it comes to inflicting
pain, anguish and mental torture upon one’s soul for
extended periods of time, but the Home Ironman tips
the scales on the physical exhaustion scorecard.
How do I come to this conclusion? During Comrades
I look forward to a beer at the last Fourways Club
support table on route, normally about 20km to 25km
from the finish. I had originally planned to enjoy a
beer somewhere in the mid-30s and slowly savour
some medicinal mouthwash whilst walking out a few
laps. However, I was so tired that I could not even
contemplate drinking a beer and had to stick to Coke
and Crème Soda. Also factored into my beer deferral
decision was the fact that walking was apparently not
recording as distance travelled on my GPS, and I was
afraid of spilling irreplaceable lockdown beer if I tried
to run with a bottle in my hand!
feasting on their braai, but I had no desire to eat
anything other than the odd jelly baby. I would call out
to them as each kilometre was ticked off, and with just
under 2km left, they returned to the top of the driveway
to encourage me to the finish. With renewed vigour
in my legs and thoughts of a Triple B (explanation
forthcoming) in my head, my pace picked up.
My youngest daughter joined me for the last two laps.
She’d accompanied me for a few intermittent laps
during the day and was still able to bounce ahead of
me, pulling me through the last 250 metres. On the
final return lap up the driveway, I felt an immense sense
of relief and achievement, and finished to the cheers of
the Fraser family over the wall and the embrace of my
wife and daughters in front of our garage.
At about 8:30pm, 13 hours and 28 minutes after a
Nerf gun fired on a dark and stormy morning, the
Home Ironman was completed. This eclipsed my
previous longest ever endurance event of a 10:40
personal worst at the 2017 Comrades “Up” run. My
final splits were swim 1:10, cycle 5:20, run 6:17,
ironing shirts and general stuffing around during
transitions 41 minutes. I’ve run plenty of marathons,
but this was the first time I’ve warmed up with a
3.9km swim and 180km bike ride. I honestly don’t
know where all the time went to get that 6:17 split, but
this was by some way the longest, toughest and most
rewarding marathon I’ve ever run.
Time for Those Beers
I had started the morning with a Triple T and was now
looking forward to concluding the day with a Triple
B – beer, bath and bed. To properly execute a Triple
B, you run a hot bath, get two beers (I recommend the
‘safety first’ option of long tom cans), get into the bath
and drink your beers. There is something regal about
drinking beer in the bathtub, and once both beers are
finished, it’s time to get out and go to bed.
Whilst enjoying that second beer in the bath, I finally
found my sense of humour again, so I mustered up
the strength and courage to announce, “Well, that
was a lot of fun! So, what are we going to do next
weekend?” Whilst actions might speak louder than
words, one thunderous look from your wife can be the
most powerful expression of all.
As such, Kathy chose not to respond verbally. She
didn’t need to. The contemptuous look my frivolous
jest received told me that audacity would not be
tolerated. And if I wanted to survive the rest of
lockdown, I knew that one crazy endurance event
was more than enough! However, that was before the
lockdown was extended by two weeks. Perhaps, just
perhaps, that leaves the gap open for a sequel…
Into the Home Straight
I was checking every two laps that the GPS was still
recording my distance, and over the last couple of
kilometres this changed to every lap, since it would
randomly cheat me out of a few hundred metres
every so often. Meanwhile, my family were ravenously
A perfectly executed Triple B
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