Not running has left a void in life

WHENEVER it’s Comrades time, I have pangs of regret. I look at all the courageous men and women toiling up and down the hills on the torturous route and wish I had done the marathon, even just once.

I cannot understand how this iconic race had eluded me all these years. Was I, like many of us, too caught up in the rat race?

When I was young I was a daredevil. One day, my school friends in Greytown dared me to walk to Muden. Without hesitation I took up the challenge and with no proper walking shoes and not a penny in my pocket, I hit the road and reached Muden, 28km away, thirsty, hungry and with sore feet. My brother-in law had to get his friend to fetch me by car.

None the wiser, the Muden episode only spurred me on to the next big walk. A group of us decided on the spur of the moment to walk to my aunt’s farm in Ashburton. Again we were ill-prepared. At first we walked briskly but as the distance wore on, our legs became leaden and for the last few kilometres we were dragging our feet. Andy couldn’t get up after he had sat down.

Then came the big challenge – cycling to Johannesburg with my two late friends, Nad and Andy. We were well prepared for this and trained for several months before the trip. We took a detour via Greytown, Muden, Colenso, Dundee, Ladysmith and Newcastle and returned along the N3 via the Free State, where we slept under a shop veranda. Except for one racist incident in Estcourt, we encountered no problems on our journey, not even in the Afrikaner stronghold, Free State.

But for some strange reason, the thought of doing the Comrades never entered our minds. To this day, I am still baffled. All I do now is read about these inspirational men and women, like the 69-yearold Chinese double amputee who climbed up Mt Everest.

If a man with one leg could run the Comrades, why could we with two legs not do the world’s greatest ultra-marathon? I feel ashamed. It’s a void in my life.

THYAGARAJ MARKANDAN

Silverglen