Modern Athlete Magazine Issue 130, May 2020 | Page 32

Donna (right) running the 2019 Comrades Marathon
with friends Ben Pearce and Leigh-ann Cooke
the 108km Ultra-Trail Drakensburg, in late April.
Unfortunately, the race was subsequently cancelled
due to the current viral issue hitting the planet, but
back in February, things were still on track. Michelle
and I had been training together, and to be honest,
despite my newly found, slightly slower pace, I had
never looked better, with body fat percentage lower
than ever and still dropping. Things were going well.
I
am new to trail running. Before arriving in Addo to
collect my race entry, the furthest trail run I’d done
was a 21km around Kliprivier. My running pedigree
isn’t too terrible, though. I had been road running for
quite a few years, but having had two children in that
time made it somewhat irregular. My husband started
running Comrades in 2010, and despite my insistence
that I would never do something so ludicrous, my will
was slowly eroded as I witnessed, year on year, how
it really impacted his life in the most amazing way. So,
eventually I started training properly.
Things were looking good and I thought I was on
track, but then I was hit with some pretty bad news. I
had a labral tear and I needed to have surgery. It was
tough to hear and even tougher to accept, but 3.5
hours in the OR, five anchors in my hip, six months of
rehab, and I was back on the road. I came back with a
vengeance, 4kg lighter and fighting fit. Or so I thought.
My first Comrades in 2018 went fairly well, but getting
to the start line of the second was not so easy.
Apparently, I now had a compromised hip and should
no longer run further than 25km. That is, if I wanted
to keep my hip for a few more years. So, reluctantly, I
had to leave Comrades behind me.
This may sound strange, but Comrades training
had become a well ingrained practice in my house.
It was the norm, and pulling away from it, even for
health benefits, was hard. My logic said no more
long-distance running, and now I could devote myself
to short distances and good times. And no more of
those lonely long runs that actually suck to do! Then,
enter Michelle...
A Friendly Push
She and I had been introduced by my ‘road running
wife’ Bianca, who was moving to Australia, and we hit
it off. Michelle is that friend that tells you as it is, even
when it’s not what you want to hear. She’s awesome.
She is also a seasoned trail runner and multisport
athlete, having done a few Ironmans and almost every
trail run in SA (and a few outside SA).
Maybe she’s super convincing, or maybe I was easily
convinced, but by February 2020 I had entered
So, we were discussing our training, and making
plans. It’s important to get the mileage in, but also you
can’t just train on the road – you need to get in the
mileage on trail, which is not easy in Johannesburg,
with two kids and a fulltime job! On a whim, Michelle
decided that the Addo 76km Elephant Run at the
beginning of March would fit nicely into our training,
as it was the right distance at the right time. So there
we were, packed and ready and on our way to OR
Tambo for my first real trail run. I was both terrified
and excited.
Hitting
Speedbumps
Our travels to the gorgeous little BnB Michelle had
booked us into was wrought with misadventure. Upon
landing in PE and seeing the queues at the car hire
places, we realised that perhaps we should have
booked a car. Then, upon finding a car, I cheekily
commented when asked for my driver’s license, “Why
on earth do you need that?” This was supposed to
be a joke, but the joke was on me when I handed her
a license and she asked, “Is it valid?” “Of course,”
I said… but it wasn’t. In my haste to leave, I had
accidentally taken an expired license. My current
one was nestled quite comfortably in the visor of
my vehicle at home in Johannesburg! Fortunately,
Michelle had hers and we were able to hire a car.
On the road, my first time in PE, we enjoyed the view
of the ocean and the beautiful buildings in the city.
Michelle’s sister was doing the 100 mile Addo run,
and her parents phoned us to tell us about the start.
Then, a rather strange phone call came in: Michelle’s
husband called to find out where their son was. They
were heading to their family farm for the weekend and
should have left by now, except their son wasn’t at
Images: Jetline Action Photo, Richard Pearce & courtesy Donna Crossan
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ISSUE 130 MAY 2020 / www.modernathlete.co.za