I knew it would be tough but I had no idea it would be that tough.

The running conditions were perfect. The wind was light (for a Satori runner) and there was good cloud cover. I was nervous as usual but tried to ignore it. 36km on the road was new territory for me and everyone I spoke to about this race grimaced before they gave their views and thoughts. They all made mention of the last 6km especially the last 3km along Kommetjie Road. “It’s the long downhill of Red Hill that kills you,” was the common thread. “By the time you get to the circle, you are tired and the road home is a gradual uphill gradient, it is a tough one but you can do it Bokkie” said Grant my biggest supporter and sometime coach. So yes, I was nervous.

I was fortunate to have a great running partner. Strong, fast and tough, Marcy had signed up for the full marathon but we started out together and I figured we would probably run the first 20km side by side if I could keep up. We settled into a comfortable pace from the start, the wind was light, the runners were festive and the comments flew back and forth. Through Sun Valley and up past Capri, Masi and Ocean View, warming up and getting a feel for the day. The legs were working well, energy was up and the water tables were frequent and well manned.

 Kommetjie Pass was the first challenge but one that we have run often on our training runs and we made good time, overtaking a fair number of runners which is always a good psychological boost. Then the long downhill through Misty Cliffs and on through Scarborough, still feeling good and enjoying the race. There was a bit of a headwind here but if you run in this valley you run in the wind so it was actually quite welcome. The next stretch went well for the most part but I had a little bit of an energy slump at about 17km, we slowed down a fraction, took in some energy and kept on moving forward. I was enjoying running with Marcy, our pace was steady and the companionship welcome but I was not looking forward to parting from her at the bottom of Red Hill and having to slog up there on my own.

The moment arrived and we said our goodbyes. I knew I was going to miss her quiet presence and steady encouragement.

On my own up Red Hill I put my head down, engaged donkey gear and just kept doing the Sasha shuffle up and up and up. Getting to the top was a huge relief but I knew that the worst was yet to come. Here was the downhill that I had been warned about. Lee Ann’s voice echoed in my head, relax, keep those shoulders forward, move your arms and stay on the balls of your feet. It helped. I kept a steady pace, no flying down the hill for me. Many people came past me but I didn’t care. I was running this race my way. This is one of the advantages of wearing a big 50 on your vest – you have an inbuilt excuse for a slow pace.

Red Hill was done but I began to suspect that I was too. My legs had a hard time adjusting to the flat road again, pain became my friend as I dug deep to find the courage and the energy to continue. “Just get to the Fish Hoek Circle and you can make it” I told myself. Believe me there was a lot of self talk going on at this point not all of it good. I tried to take in the sea view to distract myself but it wasn’t really working. A young man (younger than me at any rate) caught up to me and I recognised him, I had worked with him a million years ago in Johannesburg and had not seen him since. Catching up on his news got me through Glencairn and up the little hill just past the beach but then his youth kicked in and he ran ahead. I was on my own. After what seemed hours, I saw the circle up ahead and the friendly face of Jim, one of our beach running group. He shouted encouragement and this spurred me on for about 500m. But the race was not over yet and the final few kilometres still lay ahead,  the battle continued.

 I will admit to some walking at around 7th Avenue but walking was more painful than running at this point so I managed to get going again and the mantra in my head was, ”left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot….”

Finally I saw the 35km sign and I knew that I was going to make it. On my right I was aware of a flash of yellow and a fellow master runner sailed past me but I had nothing left to chase her with. Down 18th Avenue I shuffled, head down waiting to hit the grass.  All thoughts of shoulders forward and use your arms had vanished as I hung in for the finish line, “just keep going Moira , just keep going” was all that I could manage.  Finally it was over. I had made it. “Name please and club” said the race referee. “Why?” I gasped. “You’re the second master home” he said.