I wish. But Sarah did in the 5K fun run amongst a slew of local children, many of them shoeless, and was the 2nd woman in the untimed event. Her chaotic race just fell in the middle of a crazy trip. Our flight to Cape Town was rough as Taelyn had a cold and her ears hurt the whole way. The yelling was bad enough but the snot and coughing all over me was insane considering I didn’t want to get sick pre-race. On arrival we were upgraded to an apartment rather than a room and I finally grabbed some pizza and pasta at 9pm.
We woke early to head to Boulders Beach and a walk with penguins. Too bad the car ride there was filled with screaming children. Hauled ass back to Cape Town, picked up my race packet, tore into a café for a muffin and bagel, and a quick change of clothes before we squealed into the lot of the race venue. While Sarah sprinted to the registration, I threw the car into a parking spot, loaded one kid in the stroller and picked up the other, and started running to the line. A stairwell of 4 flights of stairs slowed me but I got Taelyn to the line on time. If Sarah’s race was chaotic (held two hours later), Taelyn’s was a nightmare. Though no parents were supposed to be on the course of the 56m Nappy Dash, hundreds ran with their kids or stood on the finish line only to walk out as soon as the gun sounded. Taelyn finished well, running with her hand on her number the whole way. Since it was Good Friday, we ate seafood, and went to bed early. Luckily I had my race goodie bag complete with a full box of Honey Cheerios, 5 packages of M&M’s, and a can of sardines. Bizarre.
While I am going to give props to Two Oceans for several things – beauty of course and support- I am going to knock parking. I waited on the highway in a line for 20 minutes to exit. A guy literally beat me there by walking. When I finally got to the parking area, it was full and I was directed down and to the right. Well, that was a one-way and full of runners. So I flipped it and threw it on the first side street from the start line. No parking spot, but not choice. Luckily I was in the “A” corral and walked right to the line. Unfortunately, when they released the corral barriers, people from the “B” section felt they needed to elbow their way past me to be 1-inch closer to the line. I started standing tougher to stop them all from coming through.
It made no difference. On the gun, people sprinted away like a 5K. I was shocked by the number of people hauling down the road. It looked like Boston. The first 10K rolled out the city streets and I kept it well under control, and although I was “under” my pre-selected pace, I was getting passed like crazy. To get a B seed meant that you did not break 3:20 for a marathon prior to the race. Not that many of these guys couldn’t, but I found it interesting that hundreds of people that slow wanted to go out that fast. It was a long day, and the 2nd half of the race was far harder than the first. I soon learned more about the guy who had been running on my shoulder for 45 minutes. He had run this race three years ago. Not last year or the year before because he was sick. When I asked with what, he told me he was HIV positive. I was shocked (which I shouldn’t be since South Africa has the highest number of people infected in the world and I was bound to meet one of them). I slowed a little, not out of fear but a little of me was zapped at that news.
The sun rose along the water after about an hour and a beautiful beach lined the course. We popped over a hill at 17K and it grew instantly chilly. A white sand beach was shroud in fog while the “Chariots of Fire” theme belted from the aid station. Even crossing the half marathon mark was uneventful and although the course was beautiful, it wasn’t particularly hard. At the pace I was running, I felt great. I thi the halfway point of the race in 2:09:11, well under the 2:20 pace I had planned. But then again, the 2nd half was a killer.
Up. Here we go. A nice, steady, curving road rises from the town up the side of the mountain but when it relented over the ocean I learned that this section was called “Little Chappy.” Rounding a corner I saw it, and instantly understood why “Chapman’s Peak” had a lesser distinction. For the next several miles a road was etched in the side of the rock over the shear face of the mountain that lead to the sea. It was no joke and has taken many out. I ran well up it and found myself passing many runners without pushing. I crested the summit some 5K later proud to have gotten that finished without suffering. But we all know up isn’t what kills you. It is down that does you in.
And down Chapman’s goes, for a good 5K from peak to sea. Many people told me to be smart coming off this thing because the downhill section from 35-40k before the final climbs will do you in. I held back as much as possible but it is ridiculously steep and you can only do so much. By 1K left in the descent, I was crying for it to end. We would round a corner and see it drop and people would grunt or yell, “Come on!” I hated the downs and wanted to get on flats or even an up. Anything to make it stop.
My rest was short lived. After hitting the beach we started up again back out of the town of Hout Bay. Although pretty, the downs of the peak were setting in. The exposure to the sun was starting to get tough but I pulled through the marathon mark in 3:16 flat. Respectable. But the last serious work was starting to come. The climb up to Constantia was not exactly subtle but not overly daunting. I decided to go at it by pushing up the climb and push I did past many struggling runners. I was pleased to take down a lot of people and since my name was on my bib, got lots of encouragement from the support staff and spectators. I reached the summit and knew the last of my challenges were over.
Instantly my hamstring pulled and stopped to stretch it. While it helped temporarily, I knew it wouldn’t release on its own, so I tried to run on the low side of the road and chug some Powerade. Surprisingly, it never got any worse. Unfortunately, from the 50km mark on, it was mostly downhill and while my legs were holding up, I was feeling like I was done. The recent Powerade slugs were starting to make the stomach sour and when it goes south, the motivation to run hard goes with it. While it felt like the hills would never end, the road soon panned out and it was pretty smooth on in. I hit the last K and tried to pass a few more people, bringing it home in about the same as my first K.
Although I was quite tired at the end and glad to be done, I knew that I had kept it in the bag. They say it is the toughest silver medal in South Africa (sub-4 hours). I think it is obtainable on the surface since I ran a 4:23 fairly reserved. However, there is only so much that can be done in the far more difficult 2nd half and going too fast in the beginning can kill you. But no matter. My splits for 5Ks were: 45:50 (for 10K); 23:11; 22:53; 23:07; 23:47; 24:44 (up Chapman’s); 22:29 (down Chapman’s); 24:06; 24:54 (up Constantia); 23:46; and a 4:34 to close.
Pleased that I ran relatively even splints (in the sense that I didn’t tank), I decided to walk from the finish back to my car. It was 2K away but I started down a very steep, San Francisco-like hill for the next 10 minutes, stopping once to grab a drink. Directed by spectators left and right, I finally became too exhausted to carry on. I stopped and asked where the start line was to a guy. He said that is was the way I had come. No, I told him, I was told this way. How far back? He said, “Not too far,” then looked me up and down and said, “Far for you.” 3K. I sunk. There was no way. It would take me an hour. He tried to give me money for a cab which I refused, but just then his ride arrived and he gave me a lift. There are still good people in the world. I turned up the street from the start and there were no cars. Hours before, this street was packed. I suddenly realized that they probably had long since ticketed and towed my rental car. I was screwed. But as I rounded the corner and saw the blue piece of crap, I knew the sun was still shinning on me.
Mitchell's beer well deserved post-race
We woke early to head to Boulders Beach and a walk with penguins. Too bad the car ride there was filled with screaming children. Hauled ass back to Cape Town, picked up my race packet, tore into a café for a muffin and bagel, and a quick change of clothes before we squealed into the lot of the race venue. While Sarah sprinted to the registration, I threw the car into a parking spot, loaded one kid in the stroller and picked up the other, and started running to the line. A stairwell of 4 flights of stairs slowed me but I got Taelyn to the line on time. If Sarah’s race was chaotic (held two hours later), Taelyn’s was a nightmare. Though no parents were supposed to be on the course of the 56m Nappy Dash, hundreds ran with their kids or stood on the finish line only to walk out as soon as the gun sounded. Taelyn finished well, running with her hand on her number the whole way. Since it was Good Friday, we ate seafood, and went to bed early. Luckily I had my race goodie bag complete with a full box of Honey Cheerios, 5 packages of M&M’s, and a can of sardines. Bizarre.
While I am going to give props to Two Oceans for several things – beauty of course and support- I am going to knock parking. I waited on the highway in a line for 20 minutes to exit. A guy literally beat me there by walking. When I finally got to the parking area, it was full and I was directed down and to the right. Well, that was a one-way and full of runners. So I flipped it and threw it on the first side street from the start line. No parking spot, but not choice. Luckily I was in the “A” corral and walked right to the line. Unfortunately, when they released the corral barriers, people from the “B” section felt they needed to elbow their way past me to be 1-inch closer to the line. I started standing tougher to stop them all from coming through.
It made no difference. On the gun, people sprinted away like a 5K. I was shocked by the number of people hauling down the road. It looked like Boston. The first 10K rolled out the city streets and I kept it well under control, and although I was “under” my pre-selected pace, I was getting passed like crazy. To get a B seed meant that you did not break 3:20 for a marathon prior to the race. Not that many of these guys couldn’t, but I found it interesting that hundreds of people that slow wanted to go out that fast. It was a long day, and the 2nd half of the race was far harder than the first. I soon learned more about the guy who had been running on my shoulder for 45 minutes. He had run this race three years ago. Not last year or the year before because he was sick. When I asked with what, he told me he was HIV positive. I was shocked (which I shouldn’t be since South Africa has the highest number of people infected in the world and I was bound to meet one of them). I slowed a little, not out of fear but a little of me was zapped at that news.
The sun rose along the water after about an hour and a beautiful beach lined the course. We popped over a hill at 17K and it grew instantly chilly. A white sand beach was shroud in fog while the “Chariots of Fire” theme belted from the aid station. Even crossing the half marathon mark was uneventful and although the course was beautiful, it wasn’t particularly hard. At the pace I was running, I felt great. I thi the halfway point of the race in 2:09:11, well under the 2:20 pace I had planned. But then again, the 2nd half was a killer.
Up. Here we go. A nice, steady, curving road rises from the town up the side of the mountain but when it relented over the ocean I learned that this section was called “Little Chappy.” Rounding a corner I saw it, and instantly understood why “Chapman’s Peak” had a lesser distinction. For the next several miles a road was etched in the side of the rock over the shear face of the mountain that lead to the sea. It was no joke and has taken many out. I ran well up it and found myself passing many runners without pushing. I crested the summit some 5K later proud to have gotten that finished without suffering. But we all know up isn’t what kills you. It is down that does you in.
And down Chapman’s goes, for a good 5K from peak to sea. Many people told me to be smart coming off this thing because the downhill section from 35-40k before the final climbs will do you in. I held back as much as possible but it is ridiculously steep and you can only do so much. By 1K left in the descent, I was crying for it to end. We would round a corner and see it drop and people would grunt or yell, “Come on!” I hated the downs and wanted to get on flats or even an up. Anything to make it stop.
My rest was short lived. After hitting the beach we started up again back out of the town of Hout Bay. Although pretty, the downs of the peak were setting in. The exposure to the sun was starting to get tough but I pulled through the marathon mark in 3:16 flat. Respectable. But the last serious work was starting to come. The climb up to Constantia was not exactly subtle but not overly daunting. I decided to go at it by pushing up the climb and push I did past many struggling runners. I was pleased to take down a lot of people and since my name was on my bib, got lots of encouragement from the support staff and spectators. I reached the summit and knew the last of my challenges were over.
Instantly my hamstring pulled and stopped to stretch it. While it helped temporarily, I knew it wouldn’t release on its own, so I tried to run on the low side of the road and chug some Powerade. Surprisingly, it never got any worse. Unfortunately, from the 50km mark on, it was mostly downhill and while my legs were holding up, I was feeling like I was done. The recent Powerade slugs were starting to make the stomach sour and when it goes south, the motivation to run hard goes with it. While it felt like the hills would never end, the road soon panned out and it was pretty smooth on in. I hit the last K and tried to pass a few more people, bringing it home in about the same as my first K.
Although I was quite tired at the end and glad to be done, I knew that I had kept it in the bag. They say it is the toughest silver medal in South Africa (sub-4 hours). I think it is obtainable on the surface since I ran a 4:23 fairly reserved. However, there is only so much that can be done in the far more difficult 2nd half and going too fast in the beginning can kill you. But no matter. My splits for 5Ks were: 45:50 (for 10K); 23:11; 22:53; 23:07; 23:47; 24:44 (up Chapman’s); 22:29 (down Chapman’s); 24:06; 24:54 (up Constantia); 23:46; and a 4:34 to close.
Pleased that I ran relatively even splints (in the sense that I didn’t tank), I decided to walk from the finish back to my car. It was 2K away but I started down a very steep, San Francisco-like hill for the next 10 minutes, stopping once to grab a drink. Directed by spectators left and right, I finally became too exhausted to carry on. I stopped and asked where the start line was to a guy. He said that is was the way I had come. No, I told him, I was told this way. How far back? He said, “Not too far,” then looked me up and down and said, “Far for you.” 3K. I sunk. There was no way. It would take me an hour. He tried to give me money for a cab which I refused, but just then his ride arrived and he gave me a lift. There are still good people in the world. I turned up the street from the start and there were no cars. Hours before, this street was packed. I suddenly realized that they probably had long since ticketed and towed my rental car. I was screwed. But as I rounded the corner and saw the blue piece of crap, I knew the sun was still shinning on me.
Mitchell's beer well deserved post-race
 |
| German brewhouse on Easter. Good times. |
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