CHALLENGER STORY
FROM THE JAWS OF
VICTORY
It may have been my first time socialising at the clubhouse, certainly one of my earliest. My conversational involvement was more that of an eavesdropper than a participant as I had never run a marathon, let alone a Comrades and these seemed to make up a significant portion of the conversation. However, one conversation did beckon to me.
# 47: IRISH SPARTAN – SBBU 2023
Brian was discussing an upcoming event that sounded more like a test of endurance than of performance. In a fit of hubris, I had the ridiculous notion that I could make up for a lack of the latter with a little of the former. That was my first mistake.
Anyway, I asked Brian for more details and learned that the challenge was to run 100km in 24 hours. With the stipulations that one had to run 4.167Km every hour, starting on the hour. At this time, I was hitting 30 minutes for a 5km parkrun so I felt that each segment should not be too difficult. Failing to consider the cumulative effect of repeated effort over 24 hours, the impact of sleep deprivation and the difficulties of keeping my body fuelled throughout. Mistake number two.
Mary, one of the runners who had taken sympathy for me and often hung back to make sure I was surviving on our morning runs, also expressed interest in signing up for this lunacy so we agreed to buddy up for the event.
I arrived at the Italian Club early in the morning to find that Mary had already laid claim to a corner of the hall for the three of us. Esimy, one of the stronger runners, was the third member of our crazy partnership. I laid out my camping chair, sleeping bag( at this stage I believed I might have time for sleep, mistake number three), a bag of sustenance, change of clothes and toiletries.
Just before 10am, the horn sounded signalling that we had two minutes to get to the starting point which was at the bottom of the steps outside the hall. After the initial rush of adrenalin and apprehension, liberally dosed with fear( of either the unknown or of failing to complete the first lap) I was out there with the other lunatics when the horn sounded for the start of lap 1, 23 more to go. And we were off. Into Essexwold, down the Motherless Goat and along Penhurst until it all became a blur. The next thing my senses registered was climbing back up those same steps to have my time recorded for the first lap. I forget what it was, but it was sub-thirty, so I was pleased, and my confidence started to grow.
I don’ t remember every lap as they blended into what became a constant stream of low-intensity agony. I do have impressions of groups of laps like, at one time some of the runners seemed to be going around in the wrong direction. Or I was going in the wrong direction, and they had it right. As we were all running the same distance, who cares anyway?
I also remember Mary and I trying to walk some of the night laps, but I was unable to keep up with her pace and had to start at a painful run, then slow to a less painful limp while Mary’ s walking pace overtook me, and we finished in close proximity.
What I do remember clearly is how incredibly supportive all the runners were. I don’ t think this was specific to my geriatric efforts so much as a general and genuine camaraderie among all the participants. A general sense that we were all doing something good for the children as well as pushing ourselves beyond our comfort zones. And having fun doing so!
Of course, it wasn’ t all running. There was the time spent inside recovering from each lap, refuelling for the next and addressing various issues of hygiene and sanitation( even if sanity had been abandoned). I have
32 SPARTAN BABY BADASS ULTRA 2025