FOUR YEARS OF SPARTAN BABY BADASSERY BY ROBERTO RICCARDI( AKA BELLOC 72)
SBBU HISTORY
FEAR AND LOATHING IN BEDFORDVIEW
FOUR YEARS OF SPARTAN BABY BADASSERY BY ROBERTO RICCARDI( AKA BELLOC 72)
SBBU COW BELLS
SBBU TAPS BAGPIPES
SBBU WAR CRY
The air hangs thick with the resplendent scent of suburban flora and the faint, metallic tang of desperation. It’ s the fourth iteration of the Spartan Baby Badass Ultra( SBBU), a 24-hour crucible dreamt up over a fever dream weekend fueled by discussions between Johnny Cobra and Belloc72: two self-styled mavericks with an unhealthy obsession for Spartan warriors and ultra-distance races.
“ Let’ s call them Spartan Babies.”
It was agreed that the race should entail distance, discomfort and sleep deprivation. They will become weekend gladiators, selfflagellating disciples of the hourly loop. People will come from all over to view the spectacle. Some will succeed. Many will fail.
“ And what will we do?”
Well, we will wade through the sweat, the tears and the existential dread with our fellow babies, participating in the madness that is sure to unfold at the Italian Club in Bedfordview.
Four years. By Zeus, it feels like a lifetime since the first Cow bell clanged on April Fool’ s Day 2022, unleashing 25 souls onto a bizarre schedule of 4.167-kilometre hourly penances. Twenty-five! A mere whisper compared to the 57 lined up for the 2025 edition on 3rd and 4th May.
Some supporters will come watch the run, some to catch a glimpse of gleaming eyes with their mixture of misguided enthusiasm and the dawning realisation of the monumental stupidity they have signed up for. The SBBU, you see, it festers in the minds of ordinary folk, whispering promises of grit and glory, omitting with quiet convenience the part where your toenails fade to black, the muscles stop speaking to you, and where sanity takes a 24-hour vacation to the darkest recesses of the brain.
The SBBU, a brainchild of lunatics for lunatics, will not be about speed. Too simple. Too sane. It will be about pure endurance. The relentless tick-tock of the unwavering loop. Hour after hour. Miss the cut-off by a few seconds, like poor Crom and Paddy who were late on a loop by a few seconds in‘ 22, and you’ re out. And once out, you’ re subjected to the strains of a bagpipe playing Taps. Taps! The song for the fallen soldier. It’ s theatrical, and melancholic, and honest, and enough to make seasoned war correspondents weep.
“ We will give them nicknames.”
Everyone deserves a nickname, something that is individual and self-selected. Sir King Katvis the Great. Albertus The First( Centurion of the Praetorian Guard). Marie’ Of Troy. It will be a Renaissance Faire of names and evolving characters. They need to earn their names when we send them out into the night past the manicured gardens of the Casa Serena retirement home. Its residents will call out nicknames and applaud with the rattling of their Zimmer frames against Italian tiles.
“ We will raise money for CHOC.”
In 2022, R111,550 was raised for CHOC( Childhood
Cancer Foundation South Africa). A great start for a noble cause. Almost commensurate to the level of suffering. By 2024, a staggering R610,000 had been raked in, bringing the grand total over four years to a cool million. Masochistic Spartan Babies putting their pain to a purpose for the kids. In 2025, the target is a noble and bold one million Rand.
“ People who love stats will love our race.”
The 2024 stats paint a grim but fascinating picture. Forty-nine started, 42 finished. An 86 % survival rate for the 100km slog. An appalling 50 % for the four who dared to tackle the brutality of the 100-mile madness. One hundred miles! A metric to make the quads of all Bedfordview residents quiver like the in-and-out of a bagpiper’ s bags.
The fastest Spartan Baby in 2024, a phantom named Eagle Boy, managed to blitz each loop in under 27 minutes, finishing the 100km in a mere 10 hours and 45 minutes. Insanity has levels.
The average time for the Spartan babies? A more civilised 36 minutes per loop. Citizen soldiers: your neighbour, your accountant, the guy who fixes your car. So many flavours of humans all committed to complete something hard. Meaty goals.
“ We will reward them for their efforts.”
A belt buckle, a certificate, some home-grown chillies strong enough to melt steel, and – for a touch of Grecian flair- a lemon tree. A citrus sapling for your 100-kilometers. A society grows
12 SPARTAN BABY BADASS ULTRA 2025