THE RUNNING MANN
C o l u m n
8:30pm and sorted out sleeping arrangements , and found the main feature of the rooms were the saloon style bathroom doors . It ’ s a good thing I know Julian well enough not to be bashful about race morning weight-loss routines .
A slightly chaotic number collection process meant I started a few minutes late . Although the race has a sunrise start at 5:30am , the local shebeen was still in full force a few hundred metres down the road , so I made a quick stop to chat to the early morning revellers and told them I would join them for a quart if they were still as full of energy when I returned . They assured me that we ’ d be drinking buddies later that morning !
The saloon-style toilet doors at our accommodation in Giyani
It gets hot north of the Tropic of Capricorn , and such was the latent heat that even a cold shower immediately before bed only provided temporary respite . I was never going to sleep particularly well before my first marathon in 16 months , but when the lights went out , the mosquitos emerged and any hopes for a peaceful night disappeared . The scourge of mosquitoes ( yes , that is the correct collective noun ) soon figured out that Julian ’ s tough and leathery skin was impenetrable , and refocused their assaults on my more luscious and succulent flesh .
As the wheel of time turned , I sweated and slapped in the dark whilst the buzzing of mosquitoes drowned out the sound of Julian ’ s snores . I had the between-a-rockand-a-hard-place choice of sweating profusely under the sheet , or being totally exposed to the bombarding bloodsuckers ( and sweating slightly less profusely ). At some early hour of the morning , I decided that I had no choice but to wet the bed . For the record , this involved pouring water all over the sheet and then letting the cooling effect of evaporation do its thing . I don ’ t know how much sleep I eventually got , but it was not a lot .
Keeping Things Simple
Whilst getting to the start-line of the Shikhumba Marathon requires plenty of effort and logistical planning , once the gun fires the route is simplicity itself . You run straight along the road to Giyani for 21.1 kilometres , turn around and then run home . Other than a few untarred village roads , there are not even any intersections to distract the runner .
A Shikhumba sunrise as backdrop for Lufuno Musenwa , who is hoping to get a marathon going in Musina
The race heads out in a westerly direction , so you unfortunately don ’ t get to appreciate the sunrise unless you run backwards . Whilst it ’ s a pity to miss a bushveld sunrise , the sun rises fast in this part of the world , as does the temperature , which went from hot to sweltering in minutes . There is also very little shade , so perhaps the organisers want to shield their runners from the sight of the sun for the first few kilometres …
The scenery is your typical lowveld vista of thorny trees and dusty shrubbery , whilst the route is genuinely gentle undulations with a total climbing elevation of 326m . There were a few curious villagers gawking at the crazy people running in the heat , but the main spectators were free range chickens , goats , donkeys and cows .
Naming Another Hill
Farai and Julian had run the previous year ’ s event , where the ‘ highlight ’ of the race seems to have been a dead donkey at the top of the biggest hill on the route , which is a gentle but steady climb from 10 to 13 kilometres . In 2022 , there was also a stiff breeze blowing down the hill , so you got full value for money with the pungent aroma of passed on donkey filling your nostrils as you slowly worked your way to the summit and highest point on the route ( 467m above sea level ). Sadly , there was indeed another dead donkey along the route this year , but fortunately it was more recently deceased , and there was no wind during the 2023 event . The hill does not have an official name yet , so I would propose that henceforth it be known as Dead Donkey Hill .
A simple out-and-back route with genuinely gentle undulations
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