RACE REPORT – Cango Marathon – Vasbyt to a sub4 PB by Lambert Greeff

February in Oudtshoorn and shivering from the cold are not often used in the same sentence. Yet somehow, I found myself with chattering teeth on the back of a truck somewhere in the Klein Karoo. Perhaps a combination of nerves, cold weather and remnants of some flu I’ve been trying to shake, but there we were all huddled together trying to keep warm from the rain and wind as we were hauled to the start of the Cango Marathon.

Going into the race I figured I had the legs to go the distance. Red Hill Marshal Marathon a month earlier was 4 and half hours of running into the wind so surely this should be somewhat easier. A couple of injuries had been popping their heads out as I’ve been increasing the distance, and this was eating away at my confidence for the race. Finishing was the main goal.

Arriving late on the last truck meant running to the start while shovelling down a bruised banana. A good warm up for the frozen legs and just in time to hear Mayor Macpherson give the 10 second count down. We were off.

The first kilometre from the Cango caves was a steep descent. Eager runners came flying past me down the hill and I had to remind myself that the race was long. At the bottom we turned towards Swartberg pass which took us up a 7 km hill to the turning point. This is also where I met fellow FHAC runner Shani. Her upbeat energy and Comrades war stories kept my head occupied as I was running at a pace slightly faster than I was planning. It wasn’t long before the leaders came speeding down from the turnaround. I’ve always enjoyed races where you can see exactly how far off you are from the elite runners and give them a cheer as they speed by.

The first half of the race was incredibly peaceful. The route surrounded by mountains and farms was beautiful. Farmstalls with camels and ostriches providing distraction as you’d expect from the groot voël paradys. Initially supported mainly by small groups of farm children still in their pajamas chanting “hou bene hou”. The atmosphere changed as we passed the halfway mark which would be the start of the half marathon. At every water station we were met by big smiles and cheers. Kurt Darren and Jack Parow blasting over the speakers reminiscent of the KKNK.

The downhill and camber was heavy on the joints, but I managed to get into a good rhythm and the kilometres just kept rolling as I maintained a steady pace. At about 32 km in I made the mistake of walking through my first water station. My legs stiffened up completely and it felt like I was running on a peg leg. This is where the race would really start.

I took some caramel cramp block and a coffee goo which picked me up a bit. This is also where I started doing the math and realized I could be in for a sub-4. That was never the goal for the day, but it was the closest I had ever gotten to it. I’d be a fool not to try. The legs were shot though so the rest of the distance would be mental.

The last 10km was a hard flat. Running on a sidewalk with not much to see the rain was long gone and that Oudtshoorn sun was doing its thing. The epitome of vasbyt. A long loop around the high school where we’d finish meant passing the end a cruel 14 minutes before getting there. All of Oudtshoorn were out to support and the energy from the crowd got me through to the end.

Just in time.03:58. Bloodied but unbowed.