We are back from the Fairest Cape, still coughing and blowing, Sarah with her hard-won Two Oceans Half Marathon medal, and I, for the first time, without any medal.
Outdoor with Rosie Mitchell
It was quite a blow to train for six months for a 56km ultra marathon, get ill two weeks before the race, and end up withdrawing after giving it a fair bash and running just the first 21km; not to mention, that a trip to Cape Town is a major financial investment, with flights, accommodation and car hire, all carefully booked and paid for in January.
Without a doubt, every long distance runner’s worst nightmare is catching a bug or getting injured just before a long awaited race. When the race is a major international one involving serious planning and expenditure, it’s even worse.
Thankfully, this is the first time I’ve been through this very disappointing experience. It happens to all runners at some stage, of course; as much as we try so hard to preserve ourselves from the flus and colds and tummy bugs flying about, now and again, you are just going to get bitten by one.
Runners, because of the high fitness level demanded by their chosen recreational pursuit, catch far less bugs than most — unless they are really overdoing their training.
In retrospect, on analysis neither of us was pushing beyond the normal bounds of training for our respective races, albeit, obviously, it is necessary to train seriously and well and we did.
Ironically, neither of us had caught any flus or colds for literally years, despite almost constant exposure from various sources around us, and had been enjoying a long run of particularly good health — only to catch a “lurgy” at a time like this — pure bad luck.
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‘When discretion is the better part of valour’
Regardless of not being able this year to recount with my usual ebullience the joy of my own race, I can at least share my thoughts and clearly speak from experience on the subject of running and illness.
Running with an infection, especially if you have a raised temperature, can quite literally kill you. It can lead to a sudden heart attack. It can also cause permanent damage to your heart.
So whilst we headed off to Cape Town thinking we had a minor cold which would be long gone by race day, we were not going to take stupid chances. We rested up a lot, then went to register, surprised to find ourselves still unwell, with more a dose of flu than a mere cold, and decided to visit the official race doctor for advice.
We weren’t alone; others with sniffles and coughs were doing likewise. After carefully checking us over, he pronounced us likely to be fit to run in the race, but cautioned us to study the guidelines he duly handed us, which listed all symptoms with which you shouldn’t risk running — number one being fever.
Runners are tricky patients, of course. We are used to pushing ourselves through serious discomfort, even pain, to finish a long race. It is in the nature of long distance racing that towards the end you become tired and depleted and it gets more difficult to keep going.
You can imagine the sort of agony we were going through as the days ticked by and full recovery did not come. We even purchased a clinical thermometer so we had some objective yardstick by which to make the absolute final decision; a fever on race day was a clear indicator not even to go to the start line.
Around 4am on race morning our temperatures were normal, and we were feeling quite a lot better — reasonably well. We decided to give it a bash, promising to pull out during the race if necessary. I was glad I at least made it to the start of what should have been my first Two Oceans Ultra.
The atmosphere was just as exciting and festive as ever. A massive gathering of 27 000 long distance runners (16 000 for the half marathon, 11 000 ultra) all lined up in one place is a unique and amazing experience which almost defies description. And Sarah did manage her part, albeit, with difficultly, and coughing and blowing the whole way.
I started fine, probably swept up by the joyous energy and carnival atmosphere. I paced myself, not pushing too hard, and enjoyed the cheering crowds lining the route, the thundering of tens of thousands of runners’ feet, the scenery.
But I felt much more tired than usual from a much earlier point, I was sweating much more than usual, and soon, I began to ache, and to feel strangely clammy and extremely cold.
My legs felt weak and leaden and I started breaking the running up with walking — again, much earlier on than is normal for me.
Clearly I was in real trouble. When I bailed out at 21km, it was none too soon. Only on stopping did I register that both my hands had gone completely numb. They remained that way for over an hour. My body was in severe distress — and discretion was indeed, the better part of valour. Feedback: [email protected].
