007: Comrades 2025 - Here we go again, and again, and again...

It is Race Week: Comrades 2025, #isiko_mpilo, is upon us. For the last four years, this race has been a highlight of my year. The story doesn't begin with my first run in 2022, though.

This is the fourth of five essays in this series. It covers Comrades 2023 and 2024 and some of the harsh lessons that life had to teach me before getting the privilege to go for a fourth Comrades in 2025. I also share my goal for the race and reflect on the privilege of being part of #isiko_mpilo, more than a race.

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Thus far in this series of blog posts, I have charted the course of my Comrades journey. From my dad’s first Comrades in 1991, to my first one in 2022. Since my first one, I’ve run two more versions of the iconic race. I completed another Down Run of 2023 in a time of 10:13:57. A wonderful 31 minute improvement on my first run, but one which I viewed in a negative light in retrospect, since I was aiming to break 10 hours and, at the point that I had to push through the pain, I responded with a whimper.

From left to right: (1) The moment the sub-10 hour dream died with a whimper up Cowie's Hill. (2) I had come into Comrades 2023 with an injury to my left knee, but felt my right knee blow up in the last 2km when I tried to emulate my fast finish from 2022. It was quite a hobble to the end. (3) I got my back-to-back medal for finishing my first two Comrades in consecutive years, hence the two medals. An anomaly, since my back-to-back consisted of two Downs instead of an Up and a Down. They switched the 2023 run to Down, to ensure that the 100th Comrades in 2027 will also be a Down, like the very first one in 1921.

What did dawn on me in the last few kilometers, though, was the realization that I was going to be a dad myself. Nadia and I had gotten the wonderful news that we were going to be parents for the first time in January 2024 only two weeks prior to race day. My wifey was seconding me despite really challenging “all-day sickness” in her first trimester. In the last few kilometers into Durban, all I could think, was “I am going to love you so much, my child.” Even though I came away from the day disappointed with my athletic result, I was super excited for the new challenge of parenthood. Fast forward to January 2024, and our first son, a baby boy was born. Christian Hugo Cowley, our greatest joy. When he was born, a switch flipped inside me. It is difficult to describe otherwise, but I view that moment as a profound one indicating the end of my “pre-dad” life and the start of my “dad” life.

In the next few weeks, with many new challenges unfolding, I pushed harder than I ever had in all facets of life. Work, running, parenting, all went full tilt. On the running front, I ran a 3 5k PBs, 1 21k PB, 2 marathon PBs and 2 50k PBs in the space of four months. At the Loskop 50km, I had slept for 3.5 hours and went out to do a run of almost 5 hours.

Being in denial of the magnitude of the life change and ensuing challenges, I was on a road to burnout. I only came to the realisation of the severity of my situation at 59.8km of the 85.91km Comrades Up Run of 2024. I had set myself the ambitious goal of a 9:30:00 finish. Not only a 43 minute improvement on my previous years’ time, but a big ask for my first Up Comrades - a completely different beast to the Down. I turned up to the start line with barely a voice and on the verge of my fourth Upper Respiratory Tract Infection (URTI) in only two months - not ideal for the harrowing 1700m of elevation gain that awaited. When the National Anthem and Shosholoza rang out at the start, I could only stand and listen. I had set the plan and wasn’t going to back off, despite all signs indicating that it was a silly idea.

As I met friends on route, everyone commented on how bad I sounded, but wished me luck nonetheless. I  was following my race plan religiously and was consuming calories at a really good frequency. I had started playing some music from my “hype playlist” as I was cruising down Inchanga. Life was a breeze as I jammed out to Journey, Van Coke Cartel, Scary Pockets, sipping on a Cream-flavoured Mageu and approaching Cato Ridge perfectly on track with my goal pace.

As I approached the little town with a gentle downhill on the Up Run, I took the left turn underneath the N3 across a timing mat – alerting my loved ones that all is going well via a digital thumbs up – a right turn into town and another left-right chicane to get on the road to Camperdown. This piece of classic Natal rolling landscape is flanked by sugar cane on the left and the N3 traffic on the right. And it was here amidst the fumes of overheating truck brakes that my “spirit left my body”.  Now, as a two-time Comrades finisher, I was expecting the moment. However, I did not expect the weight of the challenges of the first half of 2024 to be so heavy in that moment. And it pointed to one simple fact: I was chasing the wrong goal. Who cares about the colour of your Comrades medal if you and your wife have a baby boy with sleep regression? If you're too sick to speak, you're probably too sick to run. Killian Jornet, the ultra trailrunning GOAT, always says, "Performance is the maximum expression of health." If you're not healthy - mentally and/or physically - the gates to performance are shut. There were more important things that I was simply ignoring.

In the final 26km of the run, I had to come to that realisation with every jarring step towards Scottsville racecourse. As I met my seconder in Camperdown, I told him that I was done and that I wanted to go home. He said, “Your legs are still working. I need a better excuse than you being done. Start walking.” I then trundled up past the FNB waterpoint, where David Guetta’s Titanium was pumping at full blast. The medal that I was aiming for – the Robert Mtshali medal given to finishers between 9 and 10 hours – is Titanium and as they sang “I AM TITANIUM” I realized that for the second year in a row, I was not, in fact, going to be Titanium. I was a lot closer to the goal than I realised, but in the moment of reckoning, I once again, didn't react. I reached our club’s supporter gazebo, grabbed a beer and walked out of Camperdown with a bottle of orange sports drink in the one hand and an ice-cold beer in the other. An old man next to the road, relaxing in a camping chair, noticed me and said, “Beer in the one hand. Oros in the other. Lekker!”. His humour didn’t rub off on me and I trundled out of Camperdown, past the chicken farms and on to Pietemaritzburg as miserable as can be. In my misery, there was a whole lot of entitlement: I had done the hard work of training despite the challenges, so I deserved my day in the sun, right? Life doesn’t always work out so nicely…

When I finally reached the timing mat at Umlaas Road with 16km to go, I decided to run again and committed to try and run every downhill that was left. I made it to the harrowing Polly Shortts hill at 79km and walked up it thinking that I was going to start a petition for a tunnel to be blasted through the hill and have an escalator installed for the next Up Run.

At the top of Polly’s another timing mat waited, but for some reason, it didn’t pick me up. This led those following me on the runner’s tracking app to believe that I had given up. As I struggled to maintain a run-walk strategy over the last 8km, my seconder had begun to panic and Nadia had phoned him to understand what was going on. All he could do was wait for me to turn up in Pietermaritzburg. The plan was for him to give me a placard with a picture from Christian’s newborn shoot showing the three of us, two “I Love You” hand signs and the iconic line from Frozen “YOOHOO FAMILY!”. I would then run the last mile, known as the Toyota Mile, into Scottsville Racecourse with my family and take wonderful smiling photos. Instead, I moped all the way and only have photos of me looking positively dismal.

With that, in a time of 10:22:38, Comrades 2024 was done. It is still a very good time, but my perspective on the entire experience warped it into the most terrible day.

The burn out turned out to be so intense that it took me all of 2024 to fully recover. I wasn’t sure if I was going to do Comrades in 2025. Things had to change.

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I have read many brilliant books in the last 12 months and have found inspiration in four quotes that have helped to facilitate a remarkable turnaround in my perspective.

1. The Pivot:

Following the difficulties of 2024, I knew that I had to change tact. The recurring illnesses that accompanied our baby boy from daycare, were debilitating to live with. The fact that he wasn’t sleeping also made recovery nigh impossible. In December 2024 we started with sleep training and it completely changed our lives.

(Side bar – if you are a new parent in the throes of sleep regressions, I will happily recommend our sleep consultant)

Work burnout was alleviated when a brilliant new colleague joined in November 2024 and I could move back to only being a Technical Product Owner and Lead Data Scientist for one project.

My athletic progress had stalled and I found that I couldn’t run fast. I also didn’t have any endurance left. I was in a very unhappy runner’s purgatory. The reasons were quite simple: I was doing no strength training or mobility work and I was trying to run 5 days a week. This meant that I couldn’t recover well enough between runs. Nadia and I decided to split our mornings 4:3 per week. I would get 4 mornings for running and she would get 3 mornings to do what she wanted, while I got to take care of Christian’s morning routine. I could then fit in strength and mobility sessions when we had put him to bed at night.  The results were almost immediate with better sleep and an extra day of running recovery boosting progress into the new year.

We would then slowly evaluate whether Comrades 2025 would happen.

2. Adapt or die

The 2025 season started with everything falling into place nicely with a 10km PB in January and a really solid 32k prep run for the Pretoria Marathon in February. However,  on a blisteringly hot day and the early signs of a URTI (again!!!) showing up around 25k, I slowed down a lot in the second half of the race and fell into a proper sickness for two weeks. Afraid that I would relapse into 2024 patterns, I did no running for 10 days.

Fully recovered, but slightly low on mileage I approached the Irene 48k Ultra in March with an overzealous nutrition strategy that led to intense stomach cramps and my first marathon DNF. As no stranger to the “bonk” and taking in too little nutrition, I can now safely say that overdoing your nutrition is even more uncomfortable.

As I was punch drunk from the sickness haymaker of the Pretoria Marathon and down for the count after the Irene DNF, Comrades 2025 was now well and truly in the balance. I knew that I still had time to prepare for Big C, but knew that it was more important to stay healthy. If I could do that, I would have a chance. There was one opportunity left to make something positive from the experience. My new conviction was being challenged and it was time to prove that it wasn't just window dressing. From there, my friend Marius – who was recovering from a knee injury – and I charted a course to a fast marathon at the Vaal Triangle Marathon. Over a 6 week period, I finally built the momentum with a series of long runs, going from 22km to a longest run of 35km and peaking with a race-pace run of 26k @ 5:05/km.

As the weeks progressed and the fitness accumulated my body felt willing. I had adapted my goal race, but stuck to my 4 day-a-week running plan - augmented by focused strength training and folding myself like a pretzel with mobility work. With the progressive overload of training intensity and superb recovery aided by a beautiful boy who slept like a log almost every night, all the good decisions - and some luck - culminated in a PB marathon of 3:38:27 @ 5:08/km on 27 April in an exquisite run in perfect weather. Nutrition was also finally dialled in perfectly. I smashed my previous PB by more than 10 minutes. I had recovered from being on the ropes, to now taking the fight to the roads again.

Comrades 2025 was happening. Now it was a matter of setting the appropriate goal.

The Realisation:

In other countries, the week after a marathon PB would be spent walking around town showing off your medal and being praised for taking on one of life’s biggest challenges. Not to boast, but in South Africa, runners are “built different”. Marathons are mere training runs for us.

After a few days rest spent eating and stretching out tired muscles, I jumped into my biggest week of training for Comrades. First, an easy 8km run to a local running store to buy my shoes for Comrades – beautiful teal-coloured Asics Novablast 5’s that look like Checkers Sixty60 scooters. I had only recently bought a pair of Brooks Adrenaline GTS 23’s, but had won a running shoe voucher for being the “best-dressed marshall” at Green Mile’s annual race. It sure paid off to clown around for a day!

Next up, the 21km of the Wally Hayward Marathon bookended by a 5.5km trip to and from home, while accompanied by a good friend to make an easy 32km.

Finally, the Upward Hound 50km training run of local Pretoria running club, Die Vuilhonde (The Dirty Dogs – #woefwoef). While many clubs organise training runs of 50km and longer for Comrades, none do it like Die Vuilhonde. Instead of simply throwing a fast and flat 50k route together and calling it a day, their training run simulates the race as accurately as possible. What they presented was a 50km run with 900m elevation gain that is a very accurate reflection of the first 52km of the Comrades Down Run with its 888m elevation gain. Throw in an epic poster to advertise the run, and you have the makings of an unforgettable day.

What ensued was the best 50km of my life. My nutrition went down really well, my heart rate sat in the middle of my Zone 2 Heart Rate for most of the run (perfect for endurance efforts) and my legs never felt the slightest pain or twitches of cramp.

The run reached its zenith at 36km with an out-and-back of Klapperkop, a 9km stretch of road that resembles Inchanga. It was also on this stretch that I would be reaching my longest run for the year. I call this point “Entering the Twilight Zone” and it is customary for me to feel a dip in energy levels as I venture into the unknown. In anticipation of the dip, I slowed down a bit, allowing a few runners of our group to create a gap. As we turned at the bottom of Klapperkop, I was all alone and well into the Twilight Zone. Instead of feeling the anticipated dip in energy and inevitable desire to walk, I grew in confidence as the 4.5km climb continued back to the aid station. By the time that I set off again from the aid station, I had reached a divine runner’s high and decided to make a sprint for the finish and catch the rest of the group. In doing so, I completed 132km of running in 7 days and ran the 130th kilometre as fast as the very first one at 5:00/km. It was the most perfect week of running.

The thoughts I had during the momentous runner’s high happen to coincide with Tara Dower’s wise quote above. When it comes to running shorter distances, I can perform at my peak levels quite easily. For anything under two hours, I can push myself hard and do what I need to do to reach a goal time (Hello, Zone 5 heart rate, my old friend). Anything longer than that, I’ve long been a doubter. A drop-off in performance is to be expected, but for someone with my 21k PB time of 1:40, I should theoretically be capable of running a 3:30 marathon and a 9 hour Comrades – thereby obtaining a beautiful R5-like Bill Rowan medal. Whatever the reasons might be, I’ve never been able to reach those levels. In a matter of a week, I had given myself the evidence that it is possible. It was an external confirmation of everything that I’d been believing about myself as an ultra-distance athlete for 4 years. In the same way that I climbed up Klapperkop, without walking once, with strength in my legs and a steady heart rate, I could see myself repeating the act up Inchanga on 8 June 2025. “If you can visualise, it will materialise”

It almost feels like a curse to say it out loud, but Tara Dower’s quote affirms the self-belief that I’ve felt since that day. As someone who hasn't even broken 10 hours for Comrades, it might seem audacious, but I am going for a Bill Rowan at Comrades 2025 and Die Vuilhonde Upward Hound provided the evidence that I could do it. And even if I fail in the goal, I will have ample to finally be Titanium with a Robert Mtshali medal.

The Truth:

In the final 26km of Comrades 2024, my self-talk had reached an all-time low. I had beaten myself up for making bad decisions and intended to wallow away in my pity. This was reflected in my foul mood when taking water sachets from well-meaning volunteers and rejecting cheers from friendly supporters, because I didn’t feel worthy of it. I did still finish in the top half of Comrades finishers, but my self-talk was 100% negative. How sad.

As the year progressed, and I’ve done harder workouts than I ever have before, I’ve come to realise again that the suffering that we endure - in running and life more broadly - is merely the price of admission to earn the right to aspire to doing something meaningful. What is meaningful to people, is a subjective matter. As I’ve outlined in the last few posts, Comrades is a deeply meaningful endeavour to me and it has asked that I take few deep swigs from the cup of life.

Most days, we merely sip from the cup. There are big days where we get to take a big gulp, like passing a driver’s test, graduating from university or having a first kiss. Then there are the life-defining moments like moving across continents, getting married and becoming a parent where we drink the whole cup. And with these big moments, we experience the peak of what life has to offer in terms of positive emotion, but are also presented with overwhelming feelings for which we do not have words in our vocabularies. These big days don’t simply happen, they are earned and are presented – by Grace – as a gift, zero entitlement allowed.

Comrades is one of those “full cup” days. For many, it is the biggest sporting event that they’ll ever participate in. This means that we are sure to encounter emotions that we’ve never before seen. I’ve found that how we react in those moments, determines a lot of how we look back on the day. In 2022, my final 3km was amazing. In 2023, I was saddened by not reaching my goal, but happy to look forward to a new challenge in parenting. In 2024, I had nothing to give, and allowed the moment to overwhelm me.

Finally, I want to contextualise the “suffering” that runners endure on Comrades day. It is an endeavour that we get to choose. We get to live in a bubble for one day where we are challenged like on few other days. The pain and ecstasy we feel, is real. The circumstances are, however, created to simulate real suffering. Comrades started as a race of remembrance for fallen heroes in World War I. As tough as the race might be, it is not a true replacement for the real suffering that occurs in the world around us. In 2025, planes have fallen from the skies, friends have suffered in truly horrific accidents and a whole host of atrocities have been committed in wars. There is real suffering all around us and the cups from which people are forced to drink, are bitter, and involuntary.

In 2025, I am grateful for the journey that I’ve been on. I have learned to start from an honest place, to calmly pivot when faced by challenges and to believe in my abilities – not from a place of ego, but from a place of evidence. Come Sunday, I am going to push my physical boundaries in a way that I never have before. I will be drinking from the full cup and I look forward to meeting the dregs along the way. I will also remember that the cup from which I drink, is one that I get to choose – and it will be sweet – whatever the outcome.

If I’m lucky, I’ll get to do it again for many years to come, but if I never get this privilege again, it is all right. I’ve had the honour to have Comrades be a part of my life – for all my life. Maybe one day, Christian will read this and feel that a seed has been planted for him to have his own experience with this iconic race. Then I will be there to get him his own plaque on the Wall of Honour.

Maybe, one day, he looks at this and think “Pa, jy’s mal. Ons het mos ‘n kar wat so ver kan vlieg.”  Whichever way the seed sprouts for him, I’m so glad that I have this opportunity to plant the seed. I also hope that the testimony and the journey of the change that I’ve undergone from Comrades 2024 to Comrades 2025 is only one of many good seeds that I can plant for my son. It’s been a long road to get here, but the journey has only just begun…

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And that brings me to the end of my series of pre-Comrades posts for 2025. It has long been a desire to understand my obsession with the race. In his books, Sapiens and Nexus, Yuval Noah Harari posits that our species managed to prosper because of our ability to tell stories and thereby preserving knowledge across space and time. This enables us to make something out of nothing and have it endure beyond our physical limitations. Comrades wasn’t a thing until Vic Clapham and 34 runners decided to make it something in 1921. What has followed has been more than a 100 years of stories that have formed it into a mythical entity. I am privileged to be a part of it and hope that my enthusiasm shines through in the words that I’ve written. There’ll be one last post in this series – to be written after the race –  wherein I retrace the steps of Comrades 2025 and the attempt at bagging a Bill Rowan medal. Now, let’s go running.