Category: Features

She’s won nearly every elite short and middle distance race in the country and is the undisputed queen of the Women’s SPAR Grand Prix Series, but Ren? Kalmer has now taken on long distance road running and proven that she is a force to be reckoned with over longer distances as well. Not only did she win her debut marathon in Soweto in November, she did so in spectacular fashion by smashing the course record.

A year ago, on the morning of the 2008 Soweto Marathon, Ren? Kalmer went out for her usual long training run of about two hours (approximately 30km). When she got back, she relaxed in front of the TV, to watch the live broadcast of the race. And that was when she realised it: the pace she had run in her training run was nearly exactly what the female runners in the race were doing. The only difference was that they were running an extra 10km. That day, the seed – to run the 2009 Soweto Marathon – was firmly planted in her head.

Ren? did not want any pressure before the marathon and kept a low profile about her entry into the race, which has one of the biggest total prize purses (R807 000) in the country. When she lined up on 1 November, she had a simple race plan: to run at 4min/km and stick with the female frontrunners. If she felt good at 10km to the finish, she would go for gold. But things did not turn out that way.

They turned out even better. Ren? found herself leading from start to finish, and in doing so, walked away with R110 000 in prize money – R100 000 for finishing as the first woman in 2:44:06 and an additional R10 000 for beating the 2001 course record of 2:45:37. Not bad for a first marathon! It was also an unexpected early birthday present – she turned 29 on 3 November, two days after the race.

CHAOTIC START
“I didn’t realise how big the Soweto Marathon was. At the start, there was a bit of chaos and pushing and I did not see the other girls. I thought I was behind and ran to catch the group of runners ahead of me,” says Ren?. “At the 6km mark, I saw Poppy Mlambo’s boyfriend next to the road and asked where she was. When he said she was behind me, my whole game plan of sticking tactically with the girls went down the drain. I kept running my own pace and felt remarkably comfortable up to the 32km mark.”

She found the last 8km especially challenging and had to motivate herself to stay positive and push through the pain and tiredness. “I tried not to think about the distance and kept telling myself there were only 30 minutes of running time left.” With 8km to go, she was on target for a sub-2:40 marathon. “I finished in 2:44:06. That just shows how hard the last 8km were.”

Though she realised she was on her way to winning her debut marathon, the last thing on her mind was breaking the record. Her parents were – as always – next to the road to support their daughter. Their friends, who watched the marathon on TV, phoned and told them Ren? was in line for the record. “When I saw my parents in the last few kilometres, they encouraged me to keep working hard because I was in line for the record. That was the first time I realised it. I must admit, I was so tired I did not care about the record. I just wanted to finish,” says Ren?.

And when she ran into the stadium, the applause and cheers of the crowd were so deafening and overwhelming that she thought her closest rival, Poppy, was catching up to her! “The crowd went crazy. I have never heard anything like that. It was such an emotional finish. I enjoyed every second of it,” says Ren?, who definitely felt the distance in her legs the next day. “I was very sore and had to go down steps backwards.”

DIFFERENT STROKES
Ren? has always been a multi-faceted runner and has excelled at track, cross country and road events, and has been SA Track and Field Champion in the 1500m and 5000m events numerous times. She had already made her mark as a junior when, in 1997, she won a total of six titles: SA Junior and Senior 1500m, SA Junior and Senior Cross Country, and SA Junior and Senior 10km road races. What made her achievements so remarkable was that she ran in the u/17 category, but her times were faster than the girls in the u/19 category.

Since then, she has competed at the IAAF World Championships, the IAAF World Cross Country Championships, the All African Games, and last year the Olympic Games.

Ren? has a different love for all distances. “There is something very special about track running. Nothing comes close to the adrenalin of running around the track while 90 000 people in the stands go crazy. Road events are more tactical and you have more time to ‘recover’ when something goes wrong in the race. Cross country is very tough but it makes you unbelievably strong,” says Ren?, who was also the SA 10km champion in 2007 and came second at the SA Half Marathon Championships in the same year.

She admits that running distances from 1500m up to half marathons (and now even marathons) might be controversial to some coaches who believe an elite athlete has to specialise. “I have had some criticism because I don’t specialise in one distance, but I feel I am blessed being able to run different distances. I also enjoy the variety; it helps me stay motivated all year round because there is always something to work towards.”

This year saw her start competing in international road races for the first time, including the recent Great South 10 Mile Run (16km) in Portsmouth, where she placed fourth in a time of 55:23. “For the last ten years, I have been competing in only track events (800m, 1500m, 3000m and 5000m) overseas. Now I am enjoying the international road races so much. It is a new challenge and a lot less stressful than track events. I love it!”

She placed tenth at the Freihoffers 5km in Albany, New York, finishing in a time of 16:14 and followed it up with a fifth place in the Mini 10km (33:28), also in New York. Her best international road performance up to now was when she finished 15th at the recent World Half Marathon Championships in Birmingham. She bettered her PB by 80 seconds, finishing in 1:10:37. “I am so happy with my performance,” she said after the run.

HIGH MILEAGE
Her training for longer distances has not changed much from her previous programmes. High mileage is nothing new to her and she has always done a lot of it. “My coach and I have always believed that if you have the endurance, you can race any distance.” Her training consists of early morning training runs at 5am with Coach Gerrie Coetzee, when they run anything between 8km and 15km. The afternoons are reserved for quality work. “We are a big training group and meet at the Ruimsig Athletic Stadium in the West Rand. You will find anyone from primary school kids to Comrades runners training there,” says Ren?, who works half-day at Provox Centre for Public Relations and Communications.

She believes that Gerrie, a teacher at Ho?rskool Roodepoort where she matriculated, is the best coach in the country. “He does not miss a training session and runs with me every morning. He dedicates so much of his time to training; even the slowest child’s programme gets worked out for him or her individually.”

Her half-day position allows for physiotherapy sessions and an afternoon nap before a second training session at 4pm. These sessions include hill work, fartlek or track work. “On Sundays, I only train once a day; a long run of about two hours. On Fridays, I don’t do any quality work. I only do two jog sessions in the morning and evening.”

She usually covers about 140km a week, but upped her mileage a bit in her preparation for the Soweto Marathon. “I was a bit worried about my mileage because I was overseas for about three weeks before the race. I was nervous about the marathon because you never know what could go wrong on the day.”

CHILDHOOD DREAMS
She has loved running since she can remember. She was nine years old when Teacher Maggie Fourie told everyone in the school to try cross country running. “I was an exemplary student and listened to Teacher Maggie! I finished 42nd in my first race and loved it. I started training and every year I improved a little. When I was 13, I started with my coach, Gerrie, and the rest is history. Gerrie is so dedicated and committed, and I soon realised that with those two qualities, I would go far in life.”

Since the age of 11, she dreamt of running at the Olympic Games. 18 years later that dream came true when she competed in Beijing last year. She placed seventh in the 1500m final in a time of 4:08.6. “It was an amazing experience which exceeded all my expectations. It made all the sacrifices worthwhile. And what made it even more special was that my whole family and my coach were there to support me. They share in my dreams and sacrifice a lot for me.”

FAMILY TIES
Ren? comes from a very close-knit family and is the oldest of three kids. Her parents make sure they don’t miss any of her races. Dad, Christo, helps Ren? with the business side of running and mom, Elouise, makes sure they are always there for Ren?, even if it’s just at a local fun run.

Her sister, Christine (23), shares Ren?’s passion and talent for running. Christine is on an athletics scholarship at the University of Arkansas in the USA, where she is studying civil engineering. “I can’t wait for her to come home at the end of the year so we can train together.” Her brother, Herman (27), and parents try not to miss any of her races, and Ren? describes them as the most amazing and supportive family.

DISAPPOINTMENTS
Ren? had to deal with disappointments from a young age, but always managed to overcome them and come out stronger on the other side. In 1998, she was the number one ranked junior athlete in the world over 1500m (4:09min) when she picked up a stress fracture a week before the World Junior Championships. She could not compete in the finals and had to withdraw from the Commonwealth Games in Kuala Lumpur.

One of her biggest disappointments came in 2005 when she fell ill with the Coxsackie virus, which attacks the lungs and heart and leaves one feeling exhausted all the time. For a long time, she was only able to jog and could not put any effort into training. It was a difficult time for an athlete used to competing at a high level, who now had to start from scratch, running at 6min/km. “When I was sick, I learned to not take things for granted, and that any achievement is a grace from God. I also used that time to do things I could never do as an athlete, but the hunger to race competitively was always within me.”

In 2007, she was back on track and moved from Bloemfontein to Johannesburg to start teaching. She also started training with her old school coach, Gerrie. “We started with small goals and did things step by step. When I started winning again, it was such a highlight; something I used to take for granted.”

She knows she sometimes misses out on the fun stuff in life. She can’t go party every evening or go away for a weekend, because she has to concentrate on training. “I don’t regret anything and if I had to do it all over again, I would choose this exact path.” The hardest part of running is when things don’t work out as planned, especially when she has to lay off because of injuries. “I read a lot of autobiographies of sportspeople and that gets me through tough times. I realise it’s not just me going through difficult times.”

Ren?, a qualified accountancy teacher, misses the kids she taught for two years. “There was never a dull moment in my class. Running can be a very selfish sport because it is all about you, but with teaching I felt as if I meant something in the kids’ lives.”

LOOKING AHEAD
She is definitely not setting her sights on distances longer than the marathon. “I don’t think I will ever run something as crazy as the Comrades Marathon. I am also too competitive to go out there and just do it for fun.”

She has been invited to run a 15km race in Australia at the end of November and a half marathon in December in Japan. “It all depends on how I recover from the marathon. My ultimate goal is to run the Olympic Marathon in 2012. I would also like to race an international marathon next year. But saying that, there is still a lot I want to achieve on the track,” says Ren?.

“I will run for as long as I enjoy it. Running is like a good drug. It is addictive and makes me feel good. To achieve my goals is the cherry on the cake!”

BEST TIMES

800m	2:03.51	Nijmegen	23/05/2000
1000m	2:48.95	Germiston	24/01/2003
1500m	4:06.71	Madrid	05/07/2008
3000m	8:51.61	Lausanne	01/07/2003
5000m	15:35.0	Durban	17/03/2007
10km	32:28	Stellenbosch	11/08/2007
21.1km	1:10:37	Birmingham	11/10/2009
42.2	2:44:06	Soweto	01/11/2009

FAST FACTS

Role model:	Paula Radcliffe
Favourite food and drink:	Sushi and red wine
Proudest moment:	Becoming an Olympian
Greatest competitor:	The stopwatch
Dream holiday destination:	Any island holiday will do
First thing you do after a race:	Phone my parents and coach
What is your second love to running?	I am a shopaholic!
Life motto:	I can do anything through Christ who strengthens me.

THE QUEEN OF SPAR
Ren? recently pocketed R50 000 for finishing tops at the 2009 SPAR Women’s Challenge Grand Prix Series. The five 10km races in the series are held in Cape Town, Johannesburg, Durban, Pretoria and Port Elizabeth, with top-placing runners accumulating points from all the races to be in contention for the series title. With four wins from four races and 122 points, Ren? finished way ahead of her rivals, despite having to miss the last race in Johannesburg because she was overseas, representing South Africa at the World Half Marathon Champs in Birmingham.

The 2009 Grand Prix Series was Ren?’s second victory. In 2007, she also won first prize in the series. The Spar races are very close to her heart because her love for racing probably started at one of these runs. “My first Spar race was in 1994 at the age of 14. That’s when the racing bug bit me, or maybe I was just impressed with the t-shirt and goodie bag! What makes these races even more special is that they are all about women.”

Since I was a boy, I’ve been watching Comrades on TV every year and dreaming about ‘one day’. After my school years fl ew by, I started working, got married, had kids and the dream always stayed as ‘one day’. In August 2008, I again had the ‘one day’ thought, but this time, for who knows what reason, I hung onto it for a couple of days and finally made the gut wrenching decision to do the Comrades Marathon. That meant I probably needed to become a runner first.

I went to my local club in Alberton to find out what running and particularly, running the Comrades, was all about. The chairman was awesome and I did my fi rst 4km run on 3 September 2008 and my first 10km race (The Citizen Gerald Fox) on 19 September. This race was followed in quick succession by my first 15km race, the Porters Auto Germiston Callies on 28 September and my fi rst 21km half marathon (Carnival City) on 19 October. I think I trained a little more than the average novice, clocking 840km from November to January.

I completed my first 32km race in February 2009 and fi nally, ran and completed my first marathon, the Cape Gate Vaal Marathon in March. I was hoping for a D seeding for Comrades (under four hours for the marathon), a goal I had worked hard to reach. My running partner pulled me a little faster than I planned, but I felt good and stuck with him as far as I could. At 36km, I had to let him go, but managed to finish in a great time of 3:27. In the seven months preceding this race, I had become a runner and
had qualified to start the 2009 Comrades Marathon with a C seeding.

After the Old Mutual Om Die Dam 50km Ultra, I started thinking that there was an outside chance for a Bill Rowan and my coach confirmed it, so I set my heart on it. By now, most experienced runners would be spotting the big BUT, and here it is. After the Easter 100km run, I felt a little pain on the outside of my knee. It was ITB (Iliotibial Band Syndrome). I tried to run my final 60km six weeks before Comrades but was told to bail at 38km. I spent the last few weeks before Comrades rehabilitating my knee, but ITB does not go away in a few weeks. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to finish Comrades let alone run nine hours.

On the Monday before Comrades, I realised that my ‘one day’ had become real and that’s when the nerves really set in. It became even more real when we stopped at the Wimpy in Harrismith on the way down to Durban and saw all the runners and supporters making their way down to KwaZulu-Natal. Before I knew, it was Saturday evening and the start was less than 12 hours away. I would have happily taken up an offer to postpone Comrades by a few days or weeks at that point. I woke up at 2am, got dressed, double and triple checked that I had everything and drove up to Pietermaritzburg with friends. There it lay in front of us, the City Hall and the starting blocks filled with thousands of crazy runners. It was over so quickly. One moment, it was 4:30, then 5am and then 5:25; the Final Countdown, Chariots of Fire, cock’s crow and Bang!

As we went up and out of Pietermaritzburg, with that long climb in the dark, all that went through my mind was, “How long will the knee hold and how sore will it get?” When I got to the top of Polly’s, I started to pray. “Please Lord,” I begged, “Make my knee hold”. The physio had told me to try and run with a straight leg on the downhills to reduce the friction, so I waddled down Polly’s, being passed by lots of runners. The knee was holding, but I kept on praying and before I knew it, we had reached the top of Umlaas Road. Through Camperdown, the crowds were ten times bigger than I ever thought and I will never forget that feeling. I got to Cato Ridge and have never been so happy in my life to see my family. I felt love for the local crowds through Harrison Flats, I was still on pace and the knee was holding.

My next goal was halfway, knowing that my family would be there. But the wheels came off when I started climbing Inchanga. My knee let me know that I still had ITB. I had been scheduled to take my second Vooma, but thought I would do it when I saw my family. Sadly, my family didn’t make it to halfway and I hit a wall. I started walking more than what I needed to and I lost about 15 minutes from 40km to 50km. This was by far the hardest part of Comrades for me.

I finally saw my family in Hillcrest. They offered me everything; sandwiches, sweets, fruit, you name it, but I didn’t feel like any of it. In retrospect, I know I should have taken something. Strangely, I got my rhythm back and fl ew through Hillcrest and down fi elds in sub 6s and realised that I could still get the Bill Rowan if I could maintain around 6min/km. I did the 25km to 45th Cutting in 2:30 and felt strong knowing the nine hour bus was still behind me!

Little did I know, another hindrance would be thrown in my path. On the highway, with about 5km to go, the ‘lights went out’ My eyes started to close as I was running and I felt like I was going to faint. Yes, I know I should have had more Voomas and some food along the way; I’ll remember that for next year! Then came the heartbreak. When I heard the nine hour bus coming from behind, I knew I would not be able hold on because I could hardly stay upright. I saw a lady next to the road eating a hot dog and without thinking, I just asked her if I could have half. She willingly obliged and gave me the whole
hot dog. That was the best hot dog I’ve ever had. I saw a half empty Powerade on the side of the road and without stopping to think about or even care for the germs, I just downed it.

By the time I had collected my wits again, I realised the Bill Rowan was gone and my legs were rock hard. I walked the remaining 4km to the stadium. As I got onto the grass, I decided that, stiff legs or not, I would run the last 100 metres to the end. I cried from the pain, the disappointment, the relief and the overwhelming pride. That was before I even crossed the finish line. I really bawled when I crossed the line and if that was not enough, I broke down when my wife put her arms around me.

Although I had fi nished 30 minutes slower than I wanted to at 9:29, I had realised a childhood dream. I had finished the Comrades Marathon, the ultimate human race and I have the medal to prove it. I have no doubt in my mind that I’ll return for next year’s race, more focused, tougher and better prepared.

The month of August was a quiet one for me. A week of leave and two weeks of bronchitis shoved my training to the furthest corner of my mind. After my personal triumph (completing the 8km Discovery Walk the Talk), I was keen to try any race, but there was one hidden element that I did not factor in, the one setback that accustomed runners know about, namely, life. It seems that no matter how good your intentions are, life gets in the way.

Let’s backtrack a little to the point just after my 8km achievement walk. Giving myself a few days to rest was my only objective after the walk and so, I did not frequent the gym, did not hit the road, did not tighten my takkie laces. By the second week of August, I was keen to pursue my training routine once again. I went to the gym every day, pushed myself to 30 minute run-walks and even went to a step class, where to my absolute joy, I found I could keep up. My fi tness was definitely improving.

The one bane to my running career was my constant eating. Running, I thought, is supposed to help you lose weight, but with my constant eating, there was a defi nite new and unsightly bulge creeping over the top of my jeans. It’s okay, I told myself, my body will adjust. I thought about what I was eating and how it was either helping or hindering me. Dairy, I found, was poisonous to my system. I have suffered from severe attacks of sinus since I was a child, and with my new hobby, it seemed my sinuses were always dry and painful. Dairy had to go.

My second setback was an ulcer. A simple, tiny hole in my stomach which led to heartburn and chest pain, and I decided coffee and alcohol were the next items on my ‘do not eat’ list. Then, my final sacrifice. Though I was loathe to give it up, I knew that sugar was a slow killer, hardening my arteries and collecting pools of fat around my organs and so, I decided to give it up.

Despite my best efforts on the health front, a difficult year, too many late nights and some very bad habits caught up with me. I got bronchitis. For two weeks, running and any other physical activities were off the cards. Every night, I went to sleep hoping to magically be cured by morning, and woke up the next day with what felt like a humpback whale sitting on my chest. I downed cough syrup, antibiotics, cortisone and anti-histamines in a desperate attempt to recover.

In my 30 years of life, one thing I’ve learned is that people can talk themselves into almost anything. I would like to tell you that my new eating habits stuck, but I feel ashamed to lie to you, my committed audience. I have had some sugar, three cups of coffee and cheese in the last few weeks. Every night, I would feel hunger pangs grab my stomach. Every morning, I felt a deep sense of loss for my fi rst cup of coffee. Chocolate called to me in a seductive voice and I succumbed. I managed to convince myself that being sick means empty calories, that an illness is a good reason to do no exercise at all. I told myself these myths in my most persuasive tone, and managed to convince myself.

August is now at an end and my lack of training and compulsive eating have led me to a variety of conclusions. The first is that eating a lot is not a bad thing as long as I make the effort to use that energy. My second is that if I’m serious about this running thing, if I really want to change my life, then I need, literally, to change my life.

Next week, I begin my new training schedule. Even as I write this, I feel an almost imperceptible internal groan. Not another mid-year resolution! And yet, somehow I feel that this may be achievable. My simple plan? 20 minutes a day. 20 minutes a day on the treadmill is achievable. Why, you ask, is this achievable
when my other goals have fallen so far by the wayside? Frankly, my belief in myself stems from all of you reading this article. It is the stories of other runners, and my realization that I cannot let down the readers who have been following my stories that make me believe I can do this.

I believe in myself and I thank you, all of you committed readers, who believe in me and are spurring me on to meet my goals. You are my inspiration.

One of the biggest problems with learning a new skill is that nothing seems to happen quickly enough. As an emerging runner, I often hear myself complaining that my legs aren’t getting strong quickly enough and that my stamina isn’t building quickly enough. I have made progress though and now have the experience of another race under my belt, as well as having joined a running club, a real first for the girl who thought she could do it all on her own.

My story begins at the end, or the end of my last article at least. It was after writing my last article that I began to think about myself in a different way. The challenge that I had set out was beginning to snowball and I was starting to feel the pressure to actually accomplish what I had said I would. Without a coach, a running programme or even a friend to motivate me, my wellintentioned plan was starting to dissolve.

And so, I set out to achieve two things. The first was to run The Citizen Gerald Fox Memorial Run around the zoo. This would be my fi rst 10km run. As race day crept nearer, I began to panic. How on earth was I going to accomplish this? Luckily for me, all the resources were in place at the Modern Athlete office for me to get the advice I needed.

I approached one of our experts, Hilton Hort, for advice. Hilton started his running career later in life (a little like me actually) but had done amazing things and clocked amazing times since he fi rst hit the road. With his years of experience, I knew he was the right person to ask. His advice to me was amazingly simple. “Run two, walk one.” It was that easy. All I had to do was break the race up into manageable chunks.

On the morning of race day, I drove to the Johannesburg Zoo feeling calm, repeating my goal to myself. All I had to do was finish. Once I had gathered my race pack and t-shirt, I trotted off to the start, full of Sunday morning enthusiasm. The air at that start line was electric. People were milling around each other like worker bees, dressed in their club colours, some with earphones already plugged in and pumping, others laughing with friends and me, soaking it all in.

Suddenly, the race had begun. We were off. And then the funniest thing happened. I had been focusing so intently on my new strategy, breaking the race up into running parts and walking parts, that before I knew it, 2km had passed. As I looked down and saw the painted ‘2km’ on the tar, I started to feel really confident.

Hilton’s strategy was working. The route was spectacular, encompassing lots of flat roads and downhills (great for a beginner) and not too many uphills. The big and beautiful houses of Houghton made for a welcome distraction en route and my iPod, programmed with the most upbeat songs I could fi nd, kept me focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The end was in sight. I crossed the finish line, a little sore, a little chafed and more than a little relieved. 10km was behind me. Mentally, I began to calculate. The difference between my very fi rst race and my second was huge. I had gone from 10.3 minutes per kilometre to 8.9 minutes per kilometre, and that over a longer distance. To reach my ultimate goal, I would need to run each kilometre in 5.2 minutes. I still had quite a long way to go, but when I looked at where I had come from, I began to believe that I could achieve it.

Thus came the second thing I had set out to achieve. I needed help with my running and without joining a club or paying a personal coach, it was never going to happen. Since paying a coach was out of the question, my second option was joining a club for their morning runs. The prospect of early morning exercise loomed before me and every time I thought about it, I groaned. And yet, I could see no other way to get my fitness building back on track.

That first morning was the worst. My alarm going off was as enjoyable as what I imagine being trapped under a walrus must be. But, in the back of my mind, I knew there were people waiting for me. And so, I dragged on my tracksuit pants, fastened my hair back and, bleary-eyed and bad-tempered, made my way to the club. I had decided to start out with the walkers, as I was certain I couldn’t hold my own with one of the running groups.

As we began our walk, I began, as I usually do, to chat away happily to my friend and fellow walker.  After 20 minutes of this nonstop diatribe, our leader turned around and, jokingly, asked if I ever stopped talking. I laughed and replied, “They don’t call me Little Miss Chatterbox for nothing!” “That’s okay,” he smiled, “Let’s see if you’re still talking in a few kilometres.” We decided to intersperse our walk with  some running and by the end, I was breathing hard and red in the face. I was certainly not so chatty anymore.

Although it’s only been a few weeks, I’m still getting up bright and early for those walks. I even tried a run last week (which I discovered, I am defi nitely not ready for) and strangely, I’ve even begun to look forward to them. The feeling of achievement you get after you complete your exercise for the day is  empowering and has left me with the feeling that, as the song says, ‘things can only get better.’

The mystique of the Comrades Marathon captures the imagination of South Africans every year. The organisers call it The Ultimate Human Race. It certainly is the only foot race of nearly 90km in the world that attracts around 13 000 participants yearly. In addition to the runners, some 300 000 spectators provide support along the route. It is difficult to understand why so many people run Comrades, because anyone who has tackled this epic challenge will testify to the gruelling nature of it. How then can its popularity be explained? In my view, Comrades offers ordinary people like you and me the opportunity to do something truly extraordinary. It offers a real challenge and South Africans love a challenge. The race belongs to the masses as much as it belongs to the 100 or so hopefuls who believe they stand a chance of winning.

EARLIER YEARS
In my late 20s and early 30s, I completed seven Comrades marathons with two silver and five bronze medals. I didn’t run again for nine years. Between 2002 and 2004, I returned to complete numbers eight, nine and ten. After receiving my permanent green number for completing ten runs at the age of
45, I decided to hang up my running shoes. Until 16 February this year! A good friend and old running partner suggested we give Comrades 2009 a go, given the fact that we both turn 50 this year. I started training the very next day.

The harsh reality was that we had a mere 14 weeks to race day, and only eight weeks before we had to run a standard marathon in under five hours to qualify. The biggest risk was over training causing injury or illness due to our over eagerness to get fi t quickly. My training went reasonably well and I managed to qualify in time. My friend was less fortunate. He pulled a hamstring and had to withdraw. I followed three simple yet strict principles in training to minimise the risk of injury: I never trained on sore legs; I scheduled weekly visits to the physiotherapist for a sports massage; I employed a walk-run strategy.

SELF DOUBT AND NERVES
The weekend before race day, I questioned my reasons for wanting to run Comrades again. Surely, I didn’t need to prove anything to myself or anyone else. I also started doubting my ability, especially since I’ve battled to run long distances ever since my knee scope four years ago. Was I too old? Had I done enough training? Those who claim to know reckon a minimum of 400km from January to race day is required. I did a mere 384km. I only did one marathon race, three half marathon races and two 20km
training runs.

I didn’t find satisfactory answers to my questions, but on the spur of the moment I decided to ask my friends, family, loved ones and business connections to pledge funds to the Starfish Foundation (which does amazing work with AIDS orphans). The condition was that I would fi nish and earn a medal. My dream was to raise R100 000. The fund is currently sitting on R120 000 and money is still pouring in!

The day before the race was registration at the huge expo in Durban. At the green number counter, the gentleman who assisted me noticed that I was doing my first run in my green number and greeted me with a warm smile, a fi rm hand shake and a “Welcome to the Club, Ren?!” The moment was a lot sweeter than I ever expected. I can’t explain why. Maybe because this was one club where money couldn’t get you in. Another exhilarating experience was my visit to the Starfi sh stand at the expo. The ladies there were ecstatic to hear how my fund raising exercise was progressing. They gave me an orange wristband and insisted that I wore it on race day.

RACE DAY
The 30 minutes before the start of the race were awesome and humbling. Over the sound system,  Ladysmith Black Mambazo’s rendition of Shosholoza blasted. All 13 000 runners joined in. By the time the national anthem followed, my whole body was covered in goosebumps and I battled to hold back the tears. Finally, fi ve minutes before the gun, the well known sounds of Chariots of Fire fi lled the chilly
early morning. Then I knew; this was special. I was one of 13 000 South Africans of all races and creeds, all walks of life, some rich, some poor, all with a common goal to get to Durban in less than 12 hours. I realised we were all equal and that social status meant nothing. We were in this together, and we respected each other as athletes, co-runners, human beings. The lady in front of me turned around with a big smile and said, “You know all the words and the tunes. You sing well.” I acknowledged her kindness and silently hoped that my running would also be on par!

I battled from the start. It is dark and cold at 5:30 at the end of May in Maritzburg. For some reason, all my muscles felt tight. I couldn’t fi nd a comfortable rhythm and my breathing was erratic. I bumped into people in front of me. I urgently needed a toilet. I wasn’t happy. Matters improved somewhat after an hour on the road. The field was more spread out, which allowed me to get into a comfortable rhythm. My goal was to run the fi rst half of the race at around 7min/km, which would get me to Drummond (halfway) in 5:15. Anything under 5:30 would have been fi ne. That would leave me with 6:30 for the second half. The problem with the down run is that the fi rst 21km happens to be more uphill than downhill. I went through 10km in 1:15 and 20km in 2:30. I was averaging 7.5min/km – slower than planned! Even more worrying was the fact that my left hip fl exor felt very tight. In fact, it felt as though the muscle was going into spasm.

This was very disconcerting. I was mentally prepared for setbacks, but not so early into the race. I stopped briefl y at a water station and got hold of a block of ice the size of a cricket ball. I applied it to the tight muscle and it seemed to work. Passing the Ethembeni School for disabled kids around 35km at the foot of Inchanga, provided fresh food for thought. Most of these kids are unable to run. The privilege of being healthy and able to be part of this great race was once again imprinted on my mind. For a couple of hundred metres, the pain eased off a bit.

TOUGH TIMES
I went through Drummond slightly behind schedule in 5:32, but I was already severely fatigued. I battled to convince myself that I had enough gas in the tank to do another 45km in under 6:30. To make matters worse, the fi rst 8km after Drummond is a long, nasty climb commonly referred to as the back of Botha’s Hill.

I walked most of it. My only hope was that I would be able to capitalise on the long, downhill 20km stretch between Hillcrest and Pinetown. But I had to get there fi rst.

I managed to pick up the pace slightly once I reached Hillcrest. My enemies were the pain in my knees and quads caused by the downhill pounding and the hip fl exor spasms that persisted. I had to dig deep, focus on rhythm and breathing, ensure my fl uid intake at the water points was suffi cient, and visualise
myself getting to Durban in one piece. I considered bailing a number of times, but the orange Starfish wristband around my left wrist reminded me of my noble cause, raising funds for poor, less fortunate kids. The uniformed boys of Kearsney College between Botha’s Hill and Hillcrest provided another example of the massive disparity between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have-nots’ in our country.

Although I moved more freely now, I couldn’t help thinking that this was just not fair. Bad patches don’t last, is what most experienced runners believe. The problem was that my whole race thus far had been one long bad patch! The toughest section between Hillcrest and Pinetown, the 4km long, steep downhill
known as Field’s Hill is particularly painful. My legs were jelly by now, and my 104kg frame didn’t make matters easier on my knees and hip joints. My only consolation was the fact that all the runners around me were taking strain as well.

I reached Pinetown feeling groggy and very sorry for myself. The race was turning into a war zone. Disillusioned runners who had simply had enough were standing, sitting and even lying all over the place. I still had 21km ahead of me and I realized I had to make a decision to continue or not; simply feeling sorry for myself was not helping at all. By now, the KZN humidity and heat were becoming another complicating factor and on top of all, my nose started bleeding. A plug made from toilet paper had to prevent the blood from running freely, not a pretty sight! Nevertheless, I took a firm decision there and then that I wouldn’t give up. If I failed to fi nish, it would not be because of a conscious decision on my part. In fact, the only other way I would leave the race would be on a stretcher. I decided to run tall, to lift my chin, to pull back my shoulders and remind myself I had a right to be here. I was an athlete. A champion.

REACHING THE FINISH
With 18km to go, I reached the dreaded Cowie’s Hill, the last big hill on the down run. I decided to walk the full 1.2km. I sent an sms to my fi anc?, my kids, family and some friends, saying, ‘On Cowie’s, 18km to go, 2:50 to 12:00 cut off. Going to be close.’ I had to run at a pace of 9.5min/km to finish in under 12 hours, which was more than my average running pace of 7.53min/km. That sounds good on paper, but on tar in the Durban heat after slogging it out for 71km, I was still unsure I would finish.

I reached 45th Cutting (12km to go) after ten hours of running. My fianc? was standing next to the road cheering me on. With all the courage I could muster, I told her I would fi nish in time. It was 15:30. It was muggy. I was hot and tired and my nose was still bleeding. I was now in extreme ‘vasbyt’ territory. All the runners on the road were quiet. Everyone was focused on simply putting one foot in front of the other, moving forward at all costs. I reached the 5km-to-go board on the stroke of 11:00. Only severe
cramping or some other unforeseen disaster could prevent me from finishing in time. My nose miraculously stopped bleeding and when I saw the 1km-to-go board with 27 minutes to cut off, I knew Comrades 2009 was in the bag!

I can’t explain the relief and elation when I entered the stadium with a big smile, punching the air in sheer delight. It felt as though the thousands of frenzied supporters were all shouting for me. I finished in 11:41. It was a hard day at the office, to say the least. The Ultimate Human Race? Pretty inhuman, if you ask me.

Running, I think, is a little bit like childbirth. Before the experience, you dread it, going through everything that could possibly go wrong. During, you start off with a wealth of optimism that is quickly replaced by huffi ng, puffi ng and a desperate desire for the whole experience to end. When it’s all over, you feel pretty pleased with the outcome and a certain, very well-engineered part of your brain causes you to forget how difficult it really was, ensuring that you will do it again.

Since I have never actually had children, I hope you will forgive my na?ve and rather adolescent comparison, but it seems to me to be the only way to keep doing what runners do: enduring the pain, pushing beyond our boundaries, and then getting up the next morning and doing it all again.

At the start of the month, I was walking (and running a little) with newfound confi dence. I had become ‘one of the running crowd.’ I was feeling pretty proud, considering I hadn’t really been sure I could pull this whole running thing off. I found myself seeking out other runners, talking about running, running equipment and running injuries all the time, and even dreaming about running.

So, I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when I got my first running ‘injury.’ On my runs and walks, my left foot had begun to pronate and I was spending an hour of my morning walks correcting my gait, pushing my foot to the outside, trying to counter the pronation effect, getting no relief and a rather sore ankle. Visions of a trip to the podiatrist loomed large in my future. I imagined all kinds of podiatric torture, from Chinese foot binding to bone cracking realignment, even to a simple, “Sorry, nothing we can do for you.” The real experience, of course, was much more pleasant.

I went to see Franklin Dubowitz, a recommended podiatrist who, I’d been told, could make orthotics for me on the spot. Being a rather impatient person, this seemed like the perfect solution for me. Franklin’s talkative nature and calm manner reassured me and he explained that, although I was only feeling it on the left, I was actually pronating on both feet. Within an hour – and without the strange torture techniques I had imagined – I had a pair of orthotics.

BLISTER IN THE SUN
Now, I must stress that Franklin did warn me that my feet would need some time to get used to the orthotics, and that I should keep to short distances until they did. But, being a know-it-all, I did the Spar Ladies’ Challenge 10km within three days of getting the orthotics – and ended up with some of the  biggest blisters in the history of human existence under my arches.

Lesson learnt: blisters need to be drained. Do not, as I did, just leave them alone to heal on their own. Do not, as I did, simply stick some Vaseline and a plaster on them and hope for the best. Do not, as I did, run again without letting the blisters dry out and heal fi rst.

A lesson, I fi nd, is always learned in hindsight, and it was without the benefit of this knowledge that I lined up, with my friend and fellow Modern Athlete, Michelle Peake, at the start of the Spar Ladies’ Race. Michelle and I had set our target time at 1:20 to complete the race. We would have to keep our pace at 8min/km, which I knew would be a push for me, but I was willing to try.

The day dawned windy and gloomy, not a good combination for either running or high spirits. There isn’t much to say about the race besides, well, we put one foot in front of the other, repetitively, for over an hour. The wind and the hills of Randburg worked against us, and about 1km from the fi nish, we needed
a distraction to take our minds off the pain and weariness. So I told jokes. For ten minutes, I regaled Michelle with every dirty joke I knew. I put on a variety of accents, from a Russian vodka merchant to an Afrikaans truck driver, anything to make the race end. We didn’t make our target. At 1:28, Michelle and I ended the race a little disappointed, a little tired, but wiser.

TRIAL TIME
Determined to improve my time, I was quickly roped in when I heard about the Inter Club Time Trial Challenge. Four clubs, Jeppe Quondam, Fit 2000, Rand Road Warriors-Edenvale and Bedfordview participate in this time trial once a month and I was eager to ‘be one of the crowd’ and prove that I belonged in this world of athletes. I set myself a goal time of 40 minutes for 5km and was determined to push myself harder this time than ever before.

A time trial, I have found, is similar to eating dark chocolate. The bitterness is an undercurrent that hits at the fi rst bite, and then lingers until the last dark smudge has been wiped away. The sweetness, though less noticeable, is a reward for getting through the bitterness. My bitterness came about two-thirds through the time trial, when I began to realise that there was no one behind me. I was last… (OK, I wasn’t, but it felt that way at the time.) The sweetness? My time was 40:18. I had exceeded my goal by only 18 seconds. I had taken my time down to 8min/km. Sometimes you don’t know how well you’re doing until you really know.

BLOOD, SWEAT AND…
My month of running really has been full of experiences, and there are two more that are worth mentioning. The first took place on a Sunday afternoon, when I decided to go to the gym and do some running on my own. Imagine my surprise after five  minutes of solid running on the treadmill when I had not even broken a sweat. I do, of course, understand that running on the treadmill is easier than running on the road, but on my last turn of the treadmill, I had only managed to run in six-minute spurts, walking in between. This time, I kept going until I had run for a full 13 minutes.

Notable mention number two occurred on the day I decided to try running with the club’s D school. I was very nervous, especially considering my dismal prior performance. Although I did lag behind a bit, I fi nished the route only a few minutes behind the rest. The last 2km were the hardest, as I had a nagging blister at the back of my heel that was really beginning to sting. When I got home, I realised that the nagging blister had been rubbed raw and my shoe was full of blood.

Now, being a very opinionated person, I had always been sure that there is no one on the planet who can ignore pain to the point of bleeding. When I heard stories of Comrades runners whose feet had begun to bleed, and yet they marched on, I always smirked inwardly, thinking, really? How can you possibly ignore pain like that? My question had been answered. Sometimes, the run is more important than the pain. And, on the positive side of the pain scale, I know now I really am an athlete; now that I can boast about my fi rst bleeding blister!

This month has taught me a lot about running and a lot about people, myself included. I learnt that we can push through our pain if the prize is worth it. I learnt to listen to and take care of my body. I learnt that without the encouragement of others, being a true and dedicated athlete is almost impossible.

Susan Daly was never really an athlete. In the early 90s, she joined Run/Walk for Life and used to plod around Patterson Park in Norwood. She did a couple of 10km runs, but the running bug never bit.

We have two children. Ciaran, our son, is nearly 13 and Heather, our daughter, is 11. Ciaran is autistic
and severely epileptic. His epileptic seizures started at fi ve months and 12 years later, they are still not under control. We have been to many doctors and specialists from Cape Town to Manchester to try and find the cause of the seizures and an effective means to prevent and control them. Over time, Ciaran’s
seizures have ranged in length from a few minutes to two hours. Fortunately, the very long seizures are
now infrequent, but he still has about fi ve to ten seizures a month. Each seizure differs in severity; the more severe ones are life threatening and on many occasions as we have sat in the emergency rooms at
hospitals, we have felt ‘this is it’ and ‘it is just one too many.’ Ciaran fi ghts on and bounces back. As you can imagine, this takes an enormous toll on Susan, our daughter Heather and me.

Unfortunately, the number of seizures and the medication have also taken their toll on Ciaran. While he is a happy and loving child, the brain damage from years of unrelenting relapses and medication have caused retardation. Ciaran, in addition to being autistic and epileptic, functions at a three to four-year-old’s level. At this point, you may ask, what is the relevance of this to Susan’s running? Let me explain.

In September 2002, we were in Cape Town with Ciaran to undergo another barrage of tests. He had had over 200 seizures in six months and we needed to investigate, to determine whether he was a candidate for brain surgery. It was a traumatic time for us as a family. He was only six and looked so vulnerable as he bravely underwent the tests. The process entailed taking him off his drugs completely (‘cold turkey’) to induce seizures and then watching and waiting 24 hours a day for them to come. Ciaran does not have the cognitive ability to understand what is happening. In some ways this is a blessing but in another way it is terrible. You can’t explain to him the process and he is so trusting; we often feel that he is the innocent lamb that we are leading to the slaughter.

The tests established that Ciaran’s seizures were far too generalised and extensive to operate on. We packed up and left Cape Town to drive back to Johanesburg, very dejected and depressed. I remember starting our journey back to Jo’burg fi lling up at a Shell petrol station in Claremont, near the Vineyard Hotel.

Many of you may know it, as it is close the start of the Two Oceans. The petrol attendant kept
staring into the back of the car and eventually asked us, “What is wrong with him?” At fi rst, we were not sure what he meant, until we turned back to look at Ciaran. He looked terrible. He had patches of glue all over his head from the EEG wires and he was drooling and sitting, blank-faced, in a catatonic state. His eyes were dull and he looked so sad and vulnerable. The little boy, who had gone through so much and always seemed to bounce back, looked defeated. Susan and I looked at each other; we both knew what the other was thinking.

The petrol attendant’s question stuck with us throughout the drive back to Jo’burg. What was wrong with Ciaran? Why couldn’t the doctors bring his seizures under control? How much more pain and how many more seizures could this little boy endure? Where to from here? The possibility of an operation had
been, in many respects, our last real hope and now the situation seemed hopeless.

After the first few days back in Jo’burg, Susan received a call from one of her friends, Mad Kelly, a member at RAC. Mad told Susan that she needed to get out and come for a run to help her refocus. At that stage, Mad had run nine Comrades and eight Two Oceans. The next morning, Susan reluctantly met Mad for their fi rst run and, as they say, ‘the rest is history’. Susan set a goal: she wanted to do the Two Oceans before she turned 40. She did her fi rst Two Oceans in April 2006, a week before her 40th birthday. She did the Two Oceans again in 2007, missed 2008 and did her third Two Oceans earlier this year in her best time of 6:10. She said that she would need to do Comrades one day because in South Africa (her words not mine), “You are not a real runner unless you have done Comrades.” In April this year, we went to Mauritius for a ten-day family holiday and Susan did no training other than a couple of short jogs with her ‘not a real runner husband’ and one session on the hotel treadmill. A few days after we returned from Mauritius, Susan announced that she was going to run Comrades. I joked about which year she would be doing this, to which she replied, “This year.” Comrades was less than four weeks away!

The Sunday before Comrades, Ciaran had a severe cluster of seizures. Susan was at home alone with Ciaran, as I had taken my daughter and a friend to the IPL Cricket at the Wanderers. Susan realised
she had to get him to hospital as soon as possible, as the seizures were becoming more and more frequent and severe. She did not contact me immediately because she knew I was at the Wanderers
and would panic, and that it would take me an age to get home. At this stage, Ciaran was semi-conscious and a limp dead 40kg weight lying on the fl oor. Susan tried to pick him up but found she couldn’t lift him. With some serious prayer and a miraculous surge of strength, she managed to pick Ciaran up, carry him into the car and rush him to hospital. She phoned me as she was leaving and I left the Wanderers as quickly as possible to meet her at the hospital.

As we were standing in the emergency rooms with Ciaran still having seizure after seizure, we looked at each other and asked our usual question: will he make it or is this one too many? After a few of hours, the doctors managed to get the seizures under some form of control. Ciaran would not settle that night
and shortly before midnight, I told Susan to go home, that I would stay the night with Ciaran in the hospital. All I could think of was that in less than a week, she would be running the Comrades and her health and rest were essential. She refused at  first but after much debate, I persuaded her to go get some rest. The week leading up to Comrades was extremely diffi cult. Susan had strained her back lifting Ciaran and he took a few days to recover. To put it mildly, Susan had not been able to have the quiet, calm, restful week recommended to allow her to focus on the Big Day, 24 May.

I must admit that I was doubtful that Susan would complete the Comrades, not because she couldn’t do it. She had shown her ability and courage in the numerous marathons she had already completed. My doubts came partly from the fact that she had not really trained to run the distance but mainly from the strain of the events of the week leading up to the Comrades. Heather and I were lucky enough to support Susan at several points during the race, but when I saw Susan enter Kingsmead shortly before 5pm on that day, I was fl ooded with mixed emotions, including absolute relief and pride. I was relieved,
as I know how focused Susan can be and I was concerned that she would push herself too far. I was with Heather, Ciaran and Susan’s sister and brother in-law, who had travelled with us to share the experience (and to look after Ciaran as he would not have managed to follow the route with us). We all stood there with tears running down our faces, all of us except Ciaran who simply smiled at Susan and said, “Hello mommy”. He was the only one who could not fully comprehend what Susan had achieved and how far she would go for him and her family.

Susan’s running is so much more than ‘hitting the  road’. It is inextricably linked to her journey with Ciaran. Night after night she packs her running kit for the next morning’s early run. Each night, she goes to sleep not knowing what kind of night Ciaran will have and whether she will be able to run. This does not deter her. If he has a good night, she wakes up and runs, if he has a ‘bad night’, she doesn’t run. But she never uses this as an excuse. The fi rst thing she checks on her return from a run is whether Ciaran had a seizure. As soon as she hears him say, “Hello mommy”, her face visibly eases. If she does not hear ‘his call’, you can see her pain. It never changes and it never gets easier.

Here is an extract from an email Susan sent to parents at Ciaran’s school who were experiencing difficulties with their daughter. I found it so inspirational. It expresses perfectly Susan’s philosophy of how she follows her calling to run ‘the ultimate human race’ called life.

“We know that we are only able to get through all things because we are enabled by the Father who loves us immeasurably. It is a long, long road we walk with our children and we never know what comes around the next corner (or whether we are simply going ‘around the bend’!) but we get up again and again to take it on the chin. Someone asked me on Friday this week why I never seem to get down or why I seem to keep smiling. In ALL HONESTY, I replied that it was because perhaps I hadn’t faced adversity and that is why I cope with life. I have to tell you that she just STARED at me like I had lost all my marbles. I realized what I had said and how my crazy strange life with my epileptic autistic boy… is so inextricably bound in the hand of my loving Father that I really DO believe our lives are charmed. I quickly realized why she was staring so much and said – oh yes, I suppose I have faced some challenges.
This past Sunday, I ran my fi rst Comrades Marathon. I started running in September 2002 after Ciaran spent fi ve days in hospital in Cape Town undergoing treatment to determine whether he was a candidate for surgery. He wasn’t, but it was an extremely diffi cult time as he was left like an ox – very little going
on. We have seen him grow and leave those dark days behind, although we know something of his capacity was diminished in that diffi cult year (200 seizures in six months). When I returned from that hospital trip, my friend insisted I run with her. Look at me now! Last Sunday, a week before Comrades, Ciaran developed a succession of seizures that required me to take him to the ER. I was alone but managed to carry him (all 40kg) to my car by repeating out loud, “It’s just a hill!” as I struggled. He went on to spend the night in hospital because he continued having seizures, fi nally ending with a status seizure of 30 minutes. This Sunday, I ran the Ultimate Human Race. Part of the route takes you past a school for the profoundly disabled (I guess our kids qualify). I kept to the middle of the road simply because I was so overcome by their strength that I couldn’t breathe. I knew I had to, I still had far to go! It seems our race never fi nishes; there is always a corner, a hill, a valley or even a straight and easy track. Sometimes, I forget to look up and blindly follow the feet in front of me but every now and then I lift my head and see the mountains and valleys around me – it helps to look up!”

When Susan is not running or looking after her family, she spends her days tirelessly dedicated to helping others. She heads up the fund raising efforts for Kids Haven (a charity for street children) and she is also actively involved in Aqua (a school for autistic adolescents, which she helped to establish with two other families). I know there are so many Comrades runners who have their own stories of how they have overcome adversity to achieve what they have achieved. To a ‘not real runner’, just completing Comrades is an achievement in itself. Susan’s story is an amazing one. Completing her fi rst Comrades in 10:58 is a great achievement under ‘normal circumstances’ let alone with the challenges Susan faces on a daily basis. She is an inspiration to so many. Keep running Sue.

The Jungle Marathon in the heart of the South American Amazon is regarded as one of the most extreme and unique races on Earth – and not a race for the faint-hearted. It is a tough 200km stage run through extreme terrain. Ryan Sandes, South Africa’s own world class desert runner who won the Gobi Desert Race in China and the Sahara Desert Race in Egypt, proved he has what it takes to conquer dense jungles as well. Here, Ryan tells how he took on the Amazon Jungle and came out tops.

I opted to make the long trip to Alter do Ch?o, Brazil, ten days earlier, in the hope of acclimatising to the extreme heat and humidity I would be faced with during the Jungle Marathon. Alter do Ch?o was the host city for the Jungle Marathon this year and is known as the ‘Caribbean’ of Brazil. With its white, sandy beaches on the banks of the Tapaj?s River and bordering the Amazon Jungle, this town is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen and is a tourist hotspot for local Brazilians.

With my non-existent Portuguese and most local shop and restaurant owners not speaking a word of English, it made for some very interesting times when dining out in restaurants. I would point to anything on the menu that was not too expensive and hope for the best. It is quite exciting not knowing what you are going to be served and my meal selections were better than when I knew what I was ordering!

My mind started to play games with me while acclimatising in Alter do Ch?o. I wanted to do well in the Jungle Marathon – or should I say, I would have been disappointed with anything less than a win. I put a lot of pressure on myself leading up to the race and while in Alter do Ch?o, I had a lot of time to think about the race. My mind was working overtime and a few days felt like years; with five days to go, all I wanted was for the race to start. Looking back, I think these mind games were a good thing. I visualised running all six stages, thought long and hard about my race strategies, and was hungrier than ever to get a good result.

Finally D-Day arrived and we boarded the boat for the 14-hour journey up the Tapaj?s River to the start of the race. I managed to get a cabin and avoided sleeping in a hammock for one more night. I woke up in what felt like a paradise, the sun rising over the Jungle and competitors jumping off the boat into the muddy green waters of the Tapaj?s River.

BASIC TRAINING
Upon arrival at the starting point of the race, competitors were given a few hours to get settled and put up their hammocks before the Jungle training and race briefing. Let’s just say that putting up a hammock is not one of my strong points!

During Jungle training, we were informed about all the dangers in the Jungle – which is just about everything! I was most concerned about the snakes, as they told us if you get bitten by a ‘bushmaster’, you have three hours to live. It was around this point that I asked myself what I was doing there… surely I could get a kick out of things in life that are a little less dangerous?

SWIMMING IN SWAMPS
A day after the Jungle training, I found myself lining up for the start of the race. I was really nervous and already sleep-deprived after spending two nights in a hammock. Within minutes of starting the race, I was swimming across a river before we entered the Jungle. The first day was brutal and the hills were never-ending, but I was running on adrenaline and went off fast… too fast! I ran through what I thought was an ankle-deep river, but within a few seconds I found myself up to my chest in black swamp mud, with visuals of anacondas in my head!

I got to the halfway point of the stage feeling good, and felt even better knowing I was leading. However, shortly afterwards, I seemed to hit a wall, a big one; my body had no energy and even breathing seemed to be difficult. Each hill felt like I was climbing up Mount Everest, I was getting really cross with myself, and to make things worse, I had fire ants on the back of my neck biting me. At the next checkpoint, I poured some water on my head and stumbled across the finish line feeling like I had just been hit by a bus. I won the stage but my ankle looked like my knee and I knew the next week was going to be the hardest of my life. That afternoon, competitors were collapsing over the finish line and four unlucky competitors were taken away from the race by boat. Two of those competitors spent the rest of the week in a coma.

Stage two was really swampy but there were a few sections on the route that could be run really fast. I started off the stage a lot slower than the previous day and ran with Salvador Redondo of Spain for three quarters of the day. I found it a lot easier to run behind someone as I could see what branches and roots tripped them up and where they were swallowed up in the swamps; the guy in front would have to be constantly looking out for the course markers. I also hoped that if a ‘bushmaster’ wanted to test out the strength of his venom, he would do so on the first runner.

Leaving the last checkpoint, I felt strong and decided to up my pace. The course flattened out a bit and I managed to put some distance between myself and the second runner. The last 2km hurt me, but I was leading and the pain felt good in a way.

MORE MIND GAMES
Stage three was a mixture of stage one and two, neverending hills and tick-infested swamps. I employed the same tactic as stage two and started off conservatively running with Mike Wolff (USA) and Salvador. The going was tough and we all had our turns to fall over hidden roots, go over on our ankles in holes hidden by leaves and get attacked by man-eating hornets.

Just after checkpoint two, I was running behind Salvador and had a flashback of a race in Namibia earlier in the year where he had beaten me. In Namibia, I held back on stage three, saving my legs for the long stage, which in hindsight was the wrong decision. It had haunted me for the last few months and I was not going to make the same mistake twice.

I made a break and no one followed. I was taking a big risk, because when you blow in the Jungle, it is really hard to pick yourself up again because of the extreme humidity levels, but I was running on the ‘edge’ and it felt good. I pushed hard up the hills and attacked the swamps with little respect. I saw three snakes in the space of two hours and there were constant rustling noises coming from the Jungle vegetation I passed. None of this fazed me as I was running in the zone and my only focus was getting to the finish line as quickly as possible.

WATCHING EYES
8km from the finish, I stopped dead in my tracks at the base of a monster hill. It kept going up and every time I thought I was at the top, there was a new peak. I was climbing under a fallen tree halfway up the hill and accidentally peeked into a hole, and saw a pair of eyes looking at me. Those eyes gave me an instant energy boost and I charged up the rest of the hill. I crossed the finish line 47 minutes ahead of the second competitor, but the long stage was still to come.

Stage four started off with a 300m river crossing. There was a mad rush to get into the water and swimming with a backpack on is much harder than I had anticipated. Swimming across the river skyrockets your heart rate and it took about 20 minutes of running to get it down again. I ran the entire stage with Mike Wolff and the company helped to mentally refuel me for the long stage. We crossed the finish line jointly first and congratulated each other.

THE BIG ONE
I did not sleep much before the long stage and I tossed and turned in my hammock for most of the night. I knew the long stage would be where the race would be won or lost and waking up that morning, I was so nervous I could barely get my breakfast down. The long stage was 89km (Comrades in the Jungle), with the first 46km in the Jungle and the remaining distance run on dirt trails and beaches.

We started off with a big river crossing and were soon back in the Jungle. I was starting to get excited about running somewhere different to the Jungle terrain. After five days of kicking the same toe on roots, going over on my ankles multiple times and getting bitten by hornets, I had lost my sense of humour and wanted to get out of the Jungle. I was craving being able to get into a running rhythm and being able to run without having to jump over fallen trees, swim across rivers and wade through swamps.

I started off conservatively, running the entire Jungle section with Mike and Salvador. Just before leaving the Jungle, we were given a farewell present by a swarm of hornets that attacked us. That was the final straw – I needed to get out of the Jungle! It was a massive relief to get onto the dirt roads and it felt great to be able to run with some freedom again. I got a bit overexcited and took off like a headless chicken. It felt great for the first ten minutes, but then I started to regret my increased tempo. I was too stubborn to back down and let the others catch me, so I kept pushing. My legs started to hurt and I was suffering but my mind would not let my legs slow down.

I got to the second-last checkpoint and knew that if I could just keep running at a constant pace, the race would be mine. My body was annihilated but mentally I was on a high, knowing I was really close to winning the long stage, which would just about make me the overall Jungle Marathon winner. I let out a scream of joy running along the beach and lost a bit of focus. Within a few kilometres, I had run out of water and underestimated the distance to the next checkpoint. My energy levels started dropping and before I knew it, I was reduced to a mixture between a shuffle and a stumble. I was dizzy and I could feel the race and my dreams of winning slipping away. I was really angry with myself for getting into this situation.

I passed through some dense vegetation and saw a river ahead. My pace increased and I headed straight for the river. Now I had to decide whether to drink the water and risk getting sick, or not drink the water and probably not finish the stage. The choice was obvious and it was the best tasting water I have ever had! Suddenly I felt like a new person, and before long I crossed the finish line. It was a major relief to finish and I realised that all I had to do now was finish the sixth and final stage and I would win the race.

GLORY BECKONS
My hammock had become really uncomfortable by now and all I wanted was a bed and some real food. Waking up on the morning of the last stage, I was excited about finishing the race, but the last thing my legs felt like was running 32km along the beach. We started the last stage and very quickly I could feel my legs getting tired. I had a two-and-a-half hour lead on the second competitor and knew all I had to do was keep moving forward.

Once again, I teamed up with Mike and we ran the stage together. We had built up a good friendship over the past few days and the chatting seemed to numb the pain my legs were feeling. Before long, we entered the little village of Alter do Ch?o and I was handed the South African flag to cross the finish line. The last few seconds were a blur but the feeling of crossing the finish line cannot be described.

I had been sleeping and eating the Jungle Marathon during the last few months before it took place. I had made a lot of sacrifices to get to the race as strong and fit as possible. I had trained really hard and on some days, I could hardly even walk after training sessions.

Sipping a beer, I felt on top of the world and knew the hard work had paid off. Thinking back on the race, it feels like a dream, or should I say a dream come true. It was a few months of hard training and I really suffered in some of the sessions, but in the end it was all worth it.

JUNGLE MARATHON 2009 RESULTS

Men
1 Ryan Sandes (South Africa)  26:33 (Course record)
2 Salvador Redondo (Spain)  28:49
3 Mike Wolff (USA)   29:27

Women
1 Tracey Garneau (Canada) 34:28 (Joint first)
1 Nikki Kimball (USA)   34:28 (Joint first)
3 Lowri Morgan (Wales)  40:05

FOLLOW RYAN’S WANDERINGS
If you enjoyed reading about Ryan Sandes’ ultra-running exploits, you won’t want to miss the documentary film about Ryan, due for release after he runs the Final Desert, Antarctica race in November 2010.

Production began on Wandering Fever at the beginning of 2009, and will follow Ryan as he aims to become the first person to win all four desert races in the 4Deserts Series, which is rated by TIME magazine as one of the toughest endurance events in the world.

You can follow the progress of Wandering Fever at theafricanattachment.com. For investment opportunities contact [email protected].

Dreams don’t always come true, but sometimes something unexpected and amazing happens to us. This is the story of how Kashmira Parbhoo, average back of the pack runner, transformed herself into a Comrades gold medallist, and how she keeps challenging herself in all aspects of life.

It’s 4:45am on a weekday morning in Johannesburg. Like every other morning for the past two years, Kashmira Parbhoo sets off on her morning run with a group of friends, joking and chatting away at the break of dawn. After a kilometre or so, her 1.6m frame starts increasing the pace, ponytail bobbing in the air, running ahead in a distinctive style of short, fast steps with elbows seemingly fighting the space around her. No wonder her coach calls her ‘Duifie’ – when the wings come out she is ready to take off!

And taken off she certainly has. She has improved from running her first Comrades in a time of 10:42 to a gold medal-winning tenth position of 7:16, earlier this year, becoming the first Indian ever in the history of Comrades to place in the top ten. Not bad for someone who describes herself as a very unlikely medallist, who started running with her dad in her hometown of Lenasia, south of Johannesburg.

Kash, as she is known to friends and family, admits that one has to have a certain amount of talent to place in the top ten women at Comrades, but firmly believes she is an example of how an ordinary runner can achieve the extraordinary and excel beyond their wildest dreams by truly committing to the sport they love.

FATHER FIGURE
Her dad, Jaydev, was initially the runner in the family. By the time he came back from his usual Sunday morning races, she was still fast asleep in bed. “I would think he was crazy! Today, I’m the one thinking people are wasting their lives by sleeping when they could be running.”

Kash wasn’t very active at school, but as a B.Comm student living with her parents, she joined the newly opened gym in Lenasia. “I come from a very sporty family. My dad and uncles run and my brothers play soccer and cricket. I was the only one who was not doing anything!” Initially, she battled to run five minutes on the treadmill in the gym, but she persevered and promised herself that as soon as she could run 60 minutes, she would try running on the road.

Long distance running was, however, never an option. Even when she and her mom, Urmila, supported her dad in 2000 on the Comrades route, she never thought that she would end up running the same route nine consecutive times. “I was in such awe of all those runners, but never once did it go through my mind to run Comrades,” says Kash, who has great admiration for her father. He has entered Comrades 13 times, and finished five times. “He ran his first Comrades at the age of 50 and made his dream come true! I admire him for going back so many times and trying.”

She remembers one of her first runs with her dad. “Lenasia is pretty flat, there is one gentle hill of about 300 metres. The first time I ran up that hill and got to the top, I nearly threw up. I was bent over and heaving. A group of runners was coming up the hill behind us and I had to try very hard to act cool.”

RAPID DEVELOPMENT
She initially ran on the treadmill in the week and with her dad on weekends. Her first 21km race was in 2000 in Lenasia. She planned to run the 10km, but her Dad and then-husband-to-be, Umesh Dullabh, persuaded her to opt for the 21km. She finished in a respectable time of 2:07 but thought 21km was incredibly far. Little did she know that a couple of years later she would be running more than four times that distance, and finishing as the tenth woman at Comrades.

Her running slowly improved, but she nearly gave up after her first 32km race, the RAC Tough One in Randburg. She finished in a time of 3:46 and has no happy memories of that day. “I nearly died! I wasn’t used to the hills or the distance.” Luckily, she persevered. She kept on going to races with her dad, who according to Kash, decided for her that she was going to do Comrades in 2001. “Before I knew it, I was on my way to Comrades!” By then she was still just training in Lenasia, four times a week, with two rest days and races some Sundays.

Her first Comrades was, as it is for most runners, a painful experience from the 70km mark onwards. “I thought, ‘What am I doing here?’ But when I finished it was amazing.” She continued improving, constantly chopping minutes off her race times. It was then that something powerful inside her awoke – a desire to achieve and be the best she could be, in sport and in life.

THE ART OF LIVING  
Kash has a great passion for life and believes in making the best of every day and every run! In 2004, she attended a life skills course, which involved learning a powerful breathing technique that increases energy. She also learnt principles of effective living to get the most out of your life as well as some yoga and meditation exercises, which she still does today before her morning runs.

She believes the breathing technique, called Sudarshan Kriya, has helped her immensely in her running. “The course helped me in all aspects of life. Initially, I did not even think that it would help my running, but after I did the course, my running times dropped by over an hour. When people asked me what I did differently, I could only imagine that the breathing technique was one of the things that helped me improve.” She started including time trials in her training and the year after she did this course and changed her training slightly, her Comrades time dropped from 9:53 to 8:41, earning her a Bill Rowan medal.

“That was the best Comrades! I met Nadirshah Khan, the chairman of my running club (Lenasia), at about 20km to go. We ran together to the finish. I couldn’t believe I got a Bill Rowan. I was on top of the world! That year, I realised I possibly had some talent and if I wanted to excel, I would have to put more in. I couldn’t expect things to just happen,” says Kash, who admits to being in awe of Bill Rowan runners. “I used to think I could never run 6 min/km for 90km!”

Today, she is addicted to her Garmin watch and Excel spreadsheets with times of different races and training runs. At the end of a run, one often sees Kash running around the parking lot of the Virgin Active gym in Meyersdal to make up the last 200m or so of her planned distance!

CIRCLE OF FRIENDS
In 2007, Kash and her husband moved to Bassonia, where she initially ran alone. “I was a bit hesitant to run with other people because I thought I would not be able to keep up.” She was determined to improve her running and knew she had to run some time trials to increase her speed. She phoned Andries Venter, chairman of the Alberton Athletic Club, to get more details on the time trials. “I wanted to know if I could join the time trials, but was so worried about being last.” Little did she know that Andries would eventually be the one helping her improve her running even more.

Kash also met Cindy Beeming, a close friend today, at the time trial. Cindy told her about their running group that meets at 4:45 every morning and Kash joined in. “I just clicked with them. What I like about the group is that you can go ahead and run at your own pace or fall back. Today I can’t imagine not running with them.”

Cindy was following a running programme worked out by Andries, and Kash asked if Andries would mind helping her as well. And so a strong bond of friendship was formed between Kash and Andries.

THE COACH
Andries, an experienced runner of 25 Comrades, including 18 silver medals and a best time of 6:24, has been Kash’s coach since last year. “He e-mails me my programme every two weeks. Andries isn’t there to see if I follow it or not – it’s up to me to stick to it.” He advises Kash when to take it easy and when to push harder. “Andries doesn’t set goals for me. He knows what I am capable of and he doesn’t pressure me. Last year before Comrades, he asked me what time I wanted to finish in. I said sub-eight hours and I did! I finished in 7:56.”

Her programme incorporates a track session and time trials, and Andries is usually with her while she does her track session. “I believe in Andries and his programme. He is such an experienced runner and has a nice way of dealing with people. He is well read on every level of running. When he tells me to do something it’s because there is a reason behind it. He also takes into consideration my needs and capabilities. Above all, he has an unbelievable passion for running.”

She would not like a coach with a strong personality pressuring her. “That would just change my whole attitude towards running. It is so important to enjoy it. Running has become my passion. A lot of people ask me how I manage to be so disciplined, but when you love something you don’t need discipline.”

GOLDEN COMRADES
Kash’s heart was set on a Comrades silver medal this year, so she ran over 2 000km in training from January to race day and put in all the necessary quality sessions. “Andries did not ask me what I wanted to achieve this year and just gave me a time. I thought I could do it, but was scared I would disappoint myself and others. Andries didn’t put any pressure on me; he e-mailed my split times and just said, ‘I think this is achievable.”’

And so it proved to be. Few people, especially Kash, will ever forget her remarkable run at Comrades 2009. She surprised everyone, but most of all herself! Towards the end, spectators started shouting conflicting positions. “I heard someone say 12th lady! Later on some officials asked if I knew I was the tenth lady. Even then, gold didn’t feature in my mind. Ten or 100 people could have passed me. I just wanted my silver!”

When she ran into the stadium, she saw friends and people she knew clapping, shouting and jumping up and down.

KASH’S COMRADES RECORD

Year	Time	Women’s category position
2001	10:42	1 147
2002	10:02	441
2003	10:06	615
2004	09:53	351
2005	08:40	127
2006	08:44	90
2007	08:17	51
2008	07:56	19
2009	07:16	10

“I still thought, what’s wrong with them? Why are they so happy?” Only when she crossed the finish line in 7:16, did she realise what she had achieved. “Suddenly I realised it was gold! After all my hard work, look what had just happened! I burst out crying.”

Kash was thrown into a world completely unknown to her. She was taken away for drug testing with the other top finishers. “Everything was so overwhelming. I got this card around my neck saying I was tenth. The testing went on and on and all I could think about was, ‘Hurry up. I want to see my friends finishing. I did not come all the way here to sit cooped up in a room. I want to see my friends run in!”’

For days and weeks afterwards, her cell phone kept ringing. It was especially the Indian community, and her hometown of Lenasia, that were proudest of their ‘Golden Girl’ as they called her. For them, she was a symbol of hope and hard work – because for the first time in 84 runnings of the Comrades, an Indian had placed in the top ten. Kash was inundated with radio interviews, she was asked to speak at schools and surprise celebration parties were held for her.

The proudest people were her parents and husband. Her dad keeps her gold medal in his TV cabinet at home and the first thing he does when anybody visits is show them his daughter’s medal. Her husband could not go to Comrades because of business commitments, but was no less proud. “Umesh has always been so supportive of me. He has been with me since my first Comrades. He understands running and knows what is involved. His support has made a huge difference in my life.”

HUMBLE HERO
Those who know Kash will tell you that you will never hear her brag and she always downplays her achievements. The nicest thing about her is how excited she still gets talking about running, and her hopes of improving her times further.

Next year will be her tenth consecutive Comrades and she hopes to better this year’s time. She realises she will face pressure at next year’s race, but says her goal is to better herself in all aspects of life. “All I want to do is to improve next year and run a better time. If my purpose at Comrades this year was to help and inspire anyone, then I have achieved my goal. I am God’s instrument in helping to make the world a better place.”

She believes nothing is impossible. “But you must know what you want. I still have to train. I still have to run up the same hills and feel tired. I still have to struggle and battle through some runs. A gold medal does not exclude me from anything.”

There are no club membership fees, no forms to fill in, no licence numbers or club kit, and you don’t have to be super-fast or muscular to join the biggest morning run in Durban North. There is only one thing you need to become a member of the Regent Harriers: a passion for running or walking.

Come rain, wind, hail or shine, they are there every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, on the corner of Broadway and Kensington Drive in Durban North. Sometimes, up to 550 runners and walkers, of all shapes and sizes, from all walks of life, with different fitness levels and goals, gather in the early morning light to do the one thing that drives them and binds them together: their love of running.

Regent Harriers has become an institution in Durban, to such an extent that out-of-town runners who ran with them years ago still pitch up at the meeting place when on holiday or business in Durban – because they know that this incredible group will always be on that corner.

The members of this group have big hearts and are firm believers that there is always space for one more. Their welcoming spirit has caught many visiting runners off guard, such as Denise Fox, a runner from Alberton who recently went on holiday to Durban.

EVERYONE’S WELCOME
Denise heard about Regent Harriers from a local running friend. “When I got there, I phoned one of the guys, Bernie Karam, for directions. He was so friendly and even offered to pick me up, but I had my own car,” says Denise. When she got to the meeting place she was even more surprised. “I parked my car and the next minute, as if from nowhere, I saw hordes of people all over. It was like being at a race! I was amazed.”

She immediately felt welcome. “Everyone was friendly. One of the guys introduced me to a couple of runners and people started chatting to me. At exactly 5:10, a guy called the route and off we went. Some walked, some shuffled and some ran. I didn’t even have to fit into any group, there were so many people, I could just follow whoever was in front,” says Denise.

And don’t think everyone in the group is a long distance junkie training for Comrades. “Half of them don’t even run Comrades. The girl I ran with doesn’t run further than 21km and some other runners said they are only there to stay fit.”

Denise describes the run as a must-do when in Durban. “You will make new friends and experience something totally different,” says Denise, who also joined some members of the group for a 16km run on the Saturday of her stay.

A WAY OF LIFE
Regent Harriers was formed in 1960 by the late Ron Clokie. He trained with workmates Gordon McNair, Dave Russell and Ruben Turkington, meeting for early morning runs at Regent Place where he lived – and they took the name of the group from their meeting place. Over the years, the group grew to such an extent that the meeting place had to be moved 1km down the road to a more manageable venue on the corner of Broadway and Kensington.

The success of Regent Harriers, which celebrates its 50th birthday next year, lies in the group’s ability to bring people from different walks of life together, united by their passion for running or walking. “This passion levels everyone,” says Brett Florens, who shares the responsibility with Stephen Light of calling the route in the mornings.

When doing so, they have to take into consideration the amount of runners and try to avoid busy roads. “It has become such an incredible phenomenon. It is informal; you don’t have to worry about renewing licences or paying fees and you are free to come and go as you please,” says Brett.

The group has a high turnover of ‘members’, some training for events such as the Dusi Canoe Marathon or Iron Man, following which they usually relax and don’t join the group as often. Others are cyclists keeping fit when not cycling, but most are lifestyle athletes who just want to keep fit.

“Gone are the days of the 70s and 80s when people ran crazy distances. Priorities have changed. A lot of people just want to keep healthy,” says Brett. Everyone in the group has their own goals and their own reasons for being part of the morning run. “It’s an incredible support system to run with so many people. This morning someone complained about how hard the route was. Someone else immediately mentioned that one would never have done such a run on one’s own, but in a group you often push yourself beyond your limit.”

Another factor is that when running on your own, you often have no one to answer to except yourself, but when you’re in a group, your closer friends start questioning where you are if you don’t show up, says Brett.

SOMETHING FOR EVERYONE
A big advantage of the group is that inexperienced runners can gather a wealth of information from more experienced athletes, who are all too happy to share their knowledge.

“The group is so diverse, from elite athletes who have earned gold medals in the Comrades and Two Oceans marathons, to people weighing 120kg desperate to lose weight,” says Brett. Elite runners also join in, such as former Comrades winner Tilda Tearle and former Comrades gold medallist Carol Mercer.

Mondays are rest days. On Tuesdays and Fridays, the group runs 10km, but never the same route. “We are proud to say in all the years, we have never called the same route for consecutive runs,” says Brett. On Thursdays, it’s a fixed hilly route of 10km.

Those runners who want to add some distance to their training can also join on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays, and these runs usually attract around 50 runners. These groups meet at different places, depending on the day:

• Wednesdays at La Lucia Mall between Durban North and Umhlanga (12km or 15km run).
  
• Saturdays at the Pick n Pay Hypermarket in Waterkant Road, Durban North (15km along the beachfront).
  
• Sundays on the corner of Broadway and Kensington Drive (20km to 35km, depending on the time of year).

CULTURAL DIFFERENCE
Many runners in the group belong to running clubs, but in Durban there is no culture of different clubs religiously meeting at their specific clubhouses every morning for training runs. “Durban is very different to Johannesburg! Our traffic is so much better and it takes most people less than 15 minutes to get to the morning runs. We only have time trials at our clubs in the evenings; no morning club runs,” says Brett.

The group also keeps growing thanks to the recruitment of new members on the runs. “When we see a lone runner, we invite him or her into our group. No pressure, though,” says Brett.

Since May this year, Regent Harriers has also had its own website. “We encourage each other on the site and runners who have emigrated post their details, inviting SA runners to join them for a run when overseas,” says Brett.

So next time you’re in Durban and thinking of an early morning run, get yourself to the corner of Broadway and Kensington Drive and experience something amazing!

For more information on Regent Harriers, contact Brett on 031 563 0489 or Stephen on 082 564 9024, or visit www.regents.co.za.

FOR A GOOD CAUSE
Regent Harriers strongly believes in giving back to the community and has a trust that manages funds collected for a designated charity each year, culminating in the group’s charity run on 16 December.

“We have so-called ‘bag ladies’ who collect money a couple of weeks before 16 December. Runners are free to donate money or not. Some runners have donated R5 000! Their generosity is amazing, but there is no pressure to give anything,” says Brett.

Then, on 16 December, everyone runs with Christmas hats. Afterwards, those who prefer can stay and have some refreshments right there on the pavement of the ‘clubhouse’.

THE CHELSEA RUN
About two weeks before Comrades, the longer distance group has a Chelsea Run where the local supermarket donates Chelsea buns to the runners. “We eat Chelsea buns after the run and wish each other all the best for Comrades,” says Brett. And after the Big C, awards are handed to the first and last Comrades finishers from the Regent Harriers group.