Champions! The funniest thing happened to me this afternoon. I was sitting, minding my own lazy business, when I saw a message come through from Richard from Modern Athlete – he’s the guy in the cow suit.
The message read, and I quote: “Dude, hope all is magic on your side and you’re loving your Toyota! Please can you send me your video and article?”
And then for seven seconds, I went completely blank. What video and article is this oke looking for? About what? Where am I? What’s going on? And then hit me! This is about RUNNING! But I haven’t been running in what feels like decades! The last thing I can remember about running was fighting for my life somewhere between PMB and Durban, convinced I was never going to make the 12-hour cut-off.
How am I going to produce a video AND an article for Modern Athlete on running when I don’t even know where my running shoes are? And then I remembered the last time we chatted was before the Comrades Marathon, so technically I HAVE been running since I last put my thoughts on this very page, so I’ll tell you about that 89.98km run!
Champions, I’m not going to lie or candy-coat anything; the 8th of June 2025 was one of the toughest days of my life. We’re all friends here, so I’ll tell you how it started. With about 30 minutes until the start, my tummy started saying it needed to go! As runners, we all know that desperate feeling.
Now I’m 14 million people deep in a starting pen, and there is absolutely no chance I’m getting out and finding a portaloo and then getting back in time. So, I decided to hold it. I mean, there’ll be toilets somewhere during the first few kilometres, surely?
And, as luck would have it, there were portaloos about 5km into the race. And they were positioned right on a corner where there was a massive crowd of people cheering. Nothing better than an audience as you prepare to let loose. I dropped a gear, put on my indicator and pulled off the road. There was a queue at the toilets. Of course, there was. So, I had to wait.
I eventually had my turn. What a relief. I sat there, almost forgetting I still had 85km to run. Not sure how long I was in there, as I think I zoned out at the relief of it all. And then I heard it. It was so loud, it made me jump up. It was silent. I was sitting in a portaloo on Comrades Marathon race day and couldn’t hear anyone.
I opened the door and as I reinstated myself back into reality, I realised there were absolutely no runners left. I was now literally right at the back. As in, I was stone last. And it’s not like the other runners were close either. They were at least a kilometre ahead as I looked up the hill that awaited me.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. The stress and anxiety of being last of over 20,000 runners was the least of my worries. As I came out from behind the row of portaloos, and wanted to just slip back into the race quietly without anyone noticing me, I heard the crowds erupt! It was like I had just won the whole race! The cheering was next level.
And then it hit me: They all knew I was in there, and they were waiting for me to come out. But how long was I even in that portaloo? Where was I? Who was I? At that point, I hardly knew, but one thing’s for sure. I had never before the 8th of June 2025, been applauded for having a poo! I love you. 2-nils.
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