RACE REPORT: Third time’s the charm – humbled by hills and gees at the Two Oceans Ultra Marathon by Lauren Tuck

My year did not start out according to plan, with two DNFs from the two races I had entered. I made it 17km into the Red Hill Classic before the calf niggle, I had been feeling since 12km turned into a torn soleus and resulted in an extremely uncomfortable walk for 2km to the next water point. My exit from the Peninsula Marathon was slightly more strategic. Severe hamstring cramp and road closures that made for few exit points resulted in me bailing at 29km and catching a lift home over Ou Kaapse Weg from The Toad on the Road. All in all, not the most auspicious of beginnings. 

 

And then came Two Oceans. A ridiculously early wake up after nowhere near enough sleep, a well-planned parking strategy, a brisk walk to the start and those awful portaloos. And then the start batches, which after batch K nobody seemed to care about, with the announcer basically telling us it didn’t matter since it was mat to mat timing and to just start whenever. 

 

The first 10km dragged by in a blur of Main Road, buildings, slightly odd smells and darkness. Then the sun began to rise as I came through Diep River, highlighting the mountains in pink and gold and lifting my spirits considerable. A hug from an old friend on the side of the road at 12km gave me another boost, and I cruised on through Lakeside and onto Muizenberg with more and more people shouting ‘go Fish Hoek, you’re running home’.

 

 

I caught up with a friend from Joburg around 15km and we chatted our way through Kalk Bay and Fish Hoek, with her laughing at all the shouts of ‘go Fish Hoek’ and me feeling like a celebrity. The tour of Sun Valley went by quickly and next thing I knew, I was at the robots by the mall and there was my husband and my two girls, who complained about the sweaty hug I gave them. Seeing them made my morning and gave me another little boost as I cruised on to the halfway mark, seeing familiar faces on the side of the road here and there. 

 

 

Coming up Chappies to the Fish Hoek tent was the most amazing experience. The gees and shouting and cheering were amazing, and the refill of my water bottle was just what I needed. And then the real work started. 

 

Chappies was as beautiful as always, and not nearly as windy as predicted, although there were some gusts that sent hats flying and nearly knocked me off my feet a few times. I had a bit of a laugh at the groans that went up when people realised that what they thought was the top was not actually the top, and then the climb was over and a strong headwind made sure I couldn’t race my way down. 

 

I got to the marathon mark in Hout Bay and realised I’d just run a marathon PB, which probably wasn’t that hard given it was only one of a handful of times I’d ever run that far. And then I passed 44km and was officially in unknown territory – further than I’d ever run before. This just happened to coincide with Constantia Nek, which felt a whole lot steeper than it had at the UCT training run. I had some words with myself at some point about 500m from the top, and then just kept putting one foot in front of the other until eventually, after what felt like several years of climbing, there it was. The top, and the turn onto Rhodes Drive, the last hurdle before the finish. Another shout out from a friend and another little boost to keep me moving just that little bit further. 

 

At this point I was just hanging on for dear life, my legs felt like they were moving out of sheer momentum. Keep going, don’t stop. I was so sick of gels that I switched to Coke at the water points, but all I really wanted was to down about a litre of water and stop running… At the traffic lights turning into the M3 was yet another wonderful friend who had come out to support, who gave me a hug and the last little boost I needed to just keep going that last interminable 3km. 

 

And then… the finish line. For some reason I had an arbitrary goal time in my head of 6:08, and I crossed the line at 6:08:58, so I’m taking the victory. I couldn’t quite believe I’d actually run that far or finished that strong, and the sacrifice of a single toenail and the discomfort of some unfortunate chafing is probably small price to pay. 

 

 

Thanks to Vi for believing in me and making me believe in me too. To Pat for the killer coaching, to Lambert for organising multiple buses and training runs, and to Janet for finding me at the finish to give me yet another hug booster. I am humbled by the hills, but mostly humbled by the support of friends and strangers alike. And I’m already planning on coming back next year for more. Now time to switch to trail and get ready for PUFfeR…