Comrades is the world's oldest ultra marathon. It was first run in 1921 and had a few years off over WWII and Covid. It will be run for the hundredth time in 2027. Comrades is also the biggest ultra marathon in the world, currently capped at 20,000 participants.
Comrades bills itself as the Greatest Human Race. When Vic Chaplam returned from WWI, he came up with the idea of a race from his hometown of Pietermaritzburg in the hills, to Durban at the coast, to honour his fallen comrades. The ultimate human race to honour the ultimate human sacrifice. And so 34 men set out, with Bill Rowan the first winner in under 9 hours. Comrades has played a role in breaking down segregation. It flaunted laws during Apartheid, allowing black South Africans to run as "international runners". It's a race that brings South Africa together.
At some point they started to alternate the start and finish line. A race from Pietermaritzburg to Durban is a down year, from Durban to Pietermaritzburg an up year. It's fair to say that running Comrades is a pretty big deal in South Africa. The running calender in the third of the year is chock full of lead up events. You aren't really a runner in South Africa until you have run Comrades, and you haven't really run Comrades until you've done an Up and a Down.
The race ends after 12 hours. The winning man typically finishes around 5.5 hours, the winning woman around 6 hours. Medals are given out according to the time you finished the race. Between 7.5 and 9 hours earns you a Bill Rowan named for the first time winner. Finishing between 11 and 12 hours earns you a Vic Chaplam, named after the race's founder. About 25 to 50% of the starting field earn themselves a Vic.
And so I find myself in Durban for an Up year. I was never going to run sub 7:30 so my goal was to go sub 9 hours, earn myself a Bill and enjoy the experience by not pushing too hard. The start line atmosphere to savour. Comrades thrives on tradition, and the starting sequence is beholden to that. First the South African National Anthem. Then a mass choir accompanied by 20,000 runners belt out "Shosholoza", a traditional song calling for you to struggle forward. Finally, cheers erupt as Chariots of Fire is played, a cockerel crows and the race begins.
Durban is pretty damn sketchy. It feels like Gotham City without Batman. It's still dark in the CBD. The footpaths are packed with a very loud crowd. The buildings are unlit and look largely abandoned. It's surreal as we run as a packed herd through the streets. I stick to my plan of going out slow and building into the race. It seems the majority of runners don't share that plan as I'm swamped by runners from the two start groups behind me.
A Comrades Up run starts in the CBD of Durban and quickly works its way out into country side. Little villages and settlements. Some views of the Valley of 1000 Hills. It has the Big Five hills - Cowie's, Field's, Botha's, Inchunga and Polly Shorts. Inbetween there are innumerable smaller hills, both up and down. I take It easy for the first 10-15km. My legs well conditioned for hills, carry me up and over Cowies without a problem.
At the 12km mark I catch up to the "9 hour bus". The buses are large groups of runners led by a Comrades veteran, carrying them to a target finish time. There is a lot of singing, a lot of shouting and a lot of enforced walking. The 9 hour bus, as the cut off for the Bill Rowan Medal seems pretty popular. Passing it was possibly the most challenging part of my race. There were hundreds on the bus, stretched from one side of the street to the other, around 100m from front to back. Getting through them took about 2km. Once passed, I sped up to put distance between myself and them, not wanting to have them pass me if I had to stop. This coincided with hitting the bottom of Field's Hill, which Annie Thornton reliably informs me I flew up.
The rest of the race I just let myself move along at a comfortable pace. Felt a little tired as the race went on, as you do when you're running 87km. A bit of walk-run up the last couple of big hills. A few muscle groups spasming and threatening to cramp prevented me from putting on a burst in the last 5km. I cruised home with official time of 8:32:14, and claimed my Bill Rowan Medal.
The crowds, the support, they were something else. As I said before, one runner called it South Africa's Tour de France and the crowds certainly gave it that feel. They were huge. They were loud. They were joyous. There were bands. There were BBQs. It was one massive party. At times it was a little overwhelming. At places where the road narrows, the crowd moved in and you were running through a tunnel of people, yelling your name, encouraging you to keep running.
After some food, recovery and sharing stories with some Botwsawans and Zimbabweans, I ventured out to the finish shute to watch the final hour of the race. Again, the atmosphere was just something that needs to be experienced. Every half hour a bus came in to much applause — the 11 hour, 11.5 and 12 hour finishers. And then just before the 12 hour mark, with a few minutes of the race to go, The Final Countdown blast out over the speakers. Those entering the shute shuffled with more intensity, more determination. They knew that they had seconds to get to that finish line.
The song ended. The Last Post played. Those left in the shute did not finish. It was time to go home.
