Last year I went to support my mom who was running her 3rd Comrades Marathon at age 48. It was a great experience I even managed to squeeze a tear out as she came galloping into the stadium, not really looking at all like she had just run 89km from Maritzburg to Durbs.
Being my astute, verbal self (as a supporter you are also allowed to carbo-load, mine being in the form of beer) I happened to observe out loud that amongst the people finishing there seemed to be all shapes and sizes, and there was no excuse I could think of (just then) why I wouldn’t be able to do the same at the age of 26 with the body of a pre-pubescent boy.
My mom responded to this with a subscription to her running club, the kit, a permanent number and a very clever “I only want to do one more comrades and I’d like to do it with you, my only daughter”.Not being easily swayed by peer pressure I accepted all of this with a smirk and a promise to do what I could ie more carbo-loading and a jog every now and again.
At the end of October my mom came to visit me in Cape Town from KZN, and join me in my first half marathon (the VOB Grape Run). I had visions of her leaving me in her (now 49 year old) dust and me limping in, with the ambulance being the only thing behind me. To my surprise I managed to keep up and finished in a very respectable 2 hours18 minutes for a relatively tough course, which made me think that perhaps I should try a little harder to train, considering I had the kit and all…