Your monthly column with the Rope Runner

By Marissa Groenewald

COLUMN

There I was, standing on the start line of my second Comrades Rope Run. Durban to Pietermaritzburg. Up!

And somehow, even knowing what lay ahead, I still felt completely undercooked.

This year started differently. I was generously given a 15-minute head start – just me and one other wheelchair team. And for the first 5km, I found myself completely alone on the freeway leading out of Durban.

Pitch dark. Silent. Just me and my rope. It felt surreal … one woman, running alone in the dark. But not running away from danger, as is so often the case, running towards something. Something bigger than myself. Rope running towards freedom for those who can’ t run away.

And then, slowly, the world woke up behind me.

First the elite athletes came flying past, and then the masses – 21,000 runners, each with their own story, their own reason for being there. And just like that, I wasn’ t alone anymore.

This race … it was one of the toughest I’ ve ever done.

I always say Comrades is like childbirth. You go through so much pain and suffering, you swear you’ ll never do it again, and then the next day you’ re already planning the next baby. Well, this was baby number two. Let’ s not talk about number three just yet!

The truth is, I didn’ t feel ready. My training hadn’ t gone exactly to plan, and that played on my mind. But the day arrives whether you feel prepared or not. And giving up? That was never an option. Even if I had to crawl to the finish.

I experienced every emotion God ever created out there. Tears. Laughter. Frustration. Pain. Deep reflection. Moments of absolute joy. Almost symbolic of the road itself – relentless ups and downs.

What struck me most this year was the shift. The awareness is growing.

People are starting to see. To understand. The shout-outs were louder. The support deeper. And even when my body felt broken, I could feel something else gaining strength – the message. This is why I rope run.

Yes, pioneering a new sport is exciting. Yes, the idea of it one day becoming something bigger, even Olympic, is incredible. But that’ s not the core.

The core is this: it’ s starting conversations. Turning heads. Opening hearts to something most people would rather not see – the reality of human trafficking. Because when someone asks,“ But why is she doing that?” that’ s where it starts.

At around 70km, the road felt like the enemy. The rope felt like a prison. My mind was negotiating every possible way out. But then … Polly Shortts.

Cheering. Lifting me, carrying me – me and my rope – to the finish line. It was overwhelming, humbling, emotional beyond words. And then … boom. Done!

One last swing of the rope over the line. No voice left. Arms and legs barely functioning, but I did it. Back-to-back. Durban to Pietermaritzburg. Again.

What a day. What a privilege.

A massive thank you to the Comrades Marathon Association for the continued support and belief in this journey. It truly is one of the greatest races in the world, not just because of the challenge, but because of the people.

Will I be back for the 100 th?

Yeah … okay. Let me have my third and final Rope Running baby. Pain? What pain?

Protecting Lives, One Skip at a Time The Rope Runner