It’s surprising how many runners in the UK have never heard of the Comrades Marathon. At over a hundred years old, and today with more than 20000 participants annually, it is by far the oldest and largest ultramarathon in the world. Running between Pietermaritzburg and Durban in South Africa, it would be an understatement to call it a mass participation event – it completely takes over the country, is shown on national television, and inspires some of the least likely candidates to pick up very, very long distance running.
The numbers are daunting. At 89.9km, this year’s edition was the longest since the 1970’s. The direction changes every year, and 2025’s Down Run from Maritzburg to coastal Durban certainly sounds more digestible on paper than an Up run. Nonetheless, it is relentlessly hilly, running through the ominously named Valley of a Thousand Hills. I did not count on the day, but that sounds about right! With not a single flat part until the very end, the second, mostly downhill half is notorious for catching out those who went out too quick and already fried their quads. Did I mention the entire thing is on tarmac..?
The ‘why’ is hard to pin down, and my story is neither very emotional or inspirational. I tried my first Ultra – the Devil – in 2023, and the mix of running and logistical challenge really resonated with the over-worrying, single-minded part of my brain, while the openness and self-deprecating humour of your average ultra runner can’t help but make you feel welcome. Ultras are a daft thing to do, and everyone is aware of it while doing so! With that, I quickly got both a few more ultras under my belt as well as a niggling calf injury from overtraining, as absolutely everyone who spoke to me in 2024 can attest. When neverending rehab and slowly ramping back up my training caused me to survive both Tiree Ultra and Loch Ness Marathon within three weeks of each other in late 2024, and with me due to enter the V40 club in 2025, I decided it was time to try something big. A special shoutout once more to our little Loch Ness Marathon training group – we all were battling our individual running crises, and overcame them in style and had tons of fun in the process! Comrades wouldn’t have happened for me without that base.
The real grind then started in 2025. I’d happily chew anyone’s ear off about training for Comrades, but will keep it short here – you need a marathon qualifier between September and May predating the race, which I conveniently got out of the way with Loch Ness. Luckily, with Comrades being as huge as it is, there’s lots of specific training plans as starting points. ‘Proper’ training started in January, with a confidence boosting strong result at Falkirk 7hr Ultra in February, and a so-so result at the John Muir Ultra in March. Beside that – lots of long runs (peaking at 55k), including many back-to-back ones; lots of hill reps; and single leg strength training to prepare for the relentless downhill parts. All in, I’ve put in about 1600k (1000 miles) during the first five months of the year.
I celebrated the start of my two weeks of tapering by promptly coming down with an infection – never quite a full-blown lurgy, but just enough to keep me from sleeping well. Taperitis most certainly is real! I got on plane #1 on Wednesday, four days before the race, feeling the least fit and ready I’ve felt in months, and arrived in Durban on plane #2 some time on Thursday, adding a healthy dose of sleep deprivation to the mix. Flying halfway across the globe and getting your running logistics sorted at the other end felt quite daunting, and I would highly recommend going with a tour operator like I did, to have some of the stresses taken care off. Having folk around who know what is going on, and who are paid to endure your over worrying and your daft questions is a big help!
There’s plenty to keep you busy during the few days running up to race Sunday. The Marathon expo in Durban is good but extremely busy. There’s something very committing to buying tons of Comrades merch before the race – I could never being myself to wear it if I did DNF! North Beach Parkrun on the Saturday before Comrades is a must, and gives you a flavour of what’s to come, with local clubs coming out en masse, and the whole thing becoming a sea of dancing, chanting and celebrating what’s to come. On the day, Parkrun had about 1500 official finishers, but I reckon there is at least double that number out and about. I’ve taken some videos that you can see on my Strava activity.
After another carb loading dinner on Saturday evening there isn’t much time left to worry – getting to Maritzburg in time for the 5.45am start and before the roads close meant a 1.15am start to the day. Luckily, every self-respecting hotel in Durban offers midnight breakfasts on the day, and going with a tour operator meant that I got to wait in relative comfort on our bus when we arrived, and before it was time to get to the starting pens.
Unlike other big races, Comrades timing is gun-to-mat. Until last year, that meant a 20000 runner mass start, with pens ordered by qualifying times. The race has a strict 12 hour cut-off, and the slower back of the field would already lose 10 minutes before crossing over the start line. To deal with the growing field (and in preparation for the next Down Run in two years’ time being an even bigger 100th Comrades), this year saw the first ever two-wave start, with each group having their own, separate gun time 15 minutes apart. Being in group 1, I wasn’t affected by rather chaotic pens in group 2, and overall, things went relatively smoothly. Comrades had over 100 years to come up with traditions, and you cannot help but getting goosebumps when Shosholoza and Charots of Fire are playing, followed by the cock crow and – finally! – the starting gun! My videos, available on my Strava activity, of course completely fail to do any of this justice!
To the actual race then! I started like a proper numpty with my shoe lace coming loose within 3km, trying to weave myself to the side of the road amongst thousands of runners to fix that. As it would fortunately turn out, this was the last time I stopped for the remainder of the race. Whether you run, walk, or crawl – every second must get you closer to Durban!
There is a hint in the name Comrades – this event truly is about camaraderie between runners, and the amount of support given and received throughout the day is truly remarkable. Your race bib tells your fellow runners much about you, and mine did out me as a novice and an international entry. A few km in, I was joined by two Green Number runners (meaning 10+ prior finishes!), talking me through the route and telling me to stick to my plan and take it all in. There were quite a few recurring faces throughout the day, and I will remember our chats (and Piet’s pink running tutu!) for some time to come.
The first half of the route is relentlessly undulating, and you cannot help but panic about how tough the route is. Temperatures in some of the higher altitude valleys can be close to freezing before the sun comes up, but this year it was relatively mild, and I felt comfortable in a race vest, arm warmers and thin gloves. Everything except the vest comes off later in the race as temperatures hit mid- to high twenties, with rising humidity towards the coast and no shadow to be had. I don’t know if it made a difference, but I did bolt on sauna sessions and hot showers to some training runs, to get some level of heat acclimation. In the end, I think I complained marginally less than others. Save to say I drank my body weight in water, iso drink and coke on the day.
Which brings us to catering – with almost 50 aid stations along the way, you never go long without. Food options include every biscuit imaginable, energy bars, gels, salted potatoes – as well as a very varied menu from unofficial aid stations set up by clubs and other supporters. There was more than one barbeque going, but I have to admit I was not in the market for grilled meats. My race plan had been to live off my own gels until I would start craving solid food. That surprisingly never happened, so I ended up surviving off about 15 gels, some energy chews, and three bottles of Tailwind, tactically stashed at three drop bag points along the route, which I arranged through a separate company.
The make or break point of the course comes about half-way into the race, after climbing and – hopefully carefully! – descending Inchanga: a neverending, 6km climb out of Drummond, passing Arthur’s Seat (not the Edinburgh one) and the Comrades Wall of Honour. Run-walking up that stretch gives one plenty of time to ponder that there is another marathon left to go. Blasting down Botha’s Hill, you will quickly find out if you and your legs feel ok after that, and it’s mostly downhill from here and you get to chase your target time. If not, you dial right back and concentrate on finishing. I almost fell sheepish for being the guy for whom it all went well, staying within a minute of my pacing plan up to that point. I lost some time on what was to come after, including a vicious, steep and cambered descent down Field’s Hill into Pinetown, but somehow made it all back up on the most dispiriting part of the course – along the highways into Durban, with an endless number of mostly walking climbs and painful descents over the overpasses. Finishers get different medals for different finishing times, and I finished in 8:50 (targeted 8:45) to stay well within sub-9 for a shiny Bill Rowan medal.
The rest of the day is a bit of a blur – seeing other folk from the tour group hitting their targets (and in many cases, receiving a back to back medal after doing the Up run the previous year), somehow getting back to the hotel, and sleeping for 13 hours straight – all must have happened, but I really couldn’t attest to much of it now! I luckily made it to our celebration lunch the next day, attended both by the unlucky second male, Piet Wiersma, finishing a few seconds behind Tete Dijana in an unbelievable 5h25 (3:36 min/km pace) after coming down with food poisoning on Friday night; as well as national hero, running legend, and now four-times Comrades winner, Gerda Steyn. How she manages to take time to chat to you and smile for hundreds of photo ops after finishing in sub 6 hours the day before truly beggars belief.
The flight back – another 2×8 hour epic with a 10 hour layover in Dubai – was uneventful, and I managed to squeeze in some Dubai sightseeing on the way. I will spend a lot of time to unpack the whole trip mentally – but I can already say with certainty that this was both the hardest, and the most satisfying physical and mental challenge I have set myself. If you could see yourself being single-minded enough to focus your running on prepping for the event for about half a year, then I would strongly urge you to consider doing so. And if you’d like me to chew your ear of about it, then please get in touch 😊.