Finally, the race report on how the Two Oceans Marathon in Cape Town went! It's taken me some time to write this because after we left Cape Town we traveled for a couple of weeks through Zambia and on to Malawi. Fortunately, I kept a journal during my trip so I can remember some important details. Just like
Dirty Dancing, I've had the time of my life.
On top of Table Mountain
The race occurred a week after arriving in Cape Town. The Tuesday before the big day Brooke and I visited Table Mountain, which looks just as it is named and towers over the city. We took the heart pounding Cableway to the top along with all the other excited tourists and decided to hike down the less traveled route rather than stand in line for the cable car again. Also, as we were looking for the trailhead we encountered a woman who looked us up and down and said, "The hike down is really hard. I mean,
I'm in shape and I wouldn't do it." I almost said, "Bitch, I'm a marathon runner," (and Brooke, she's an avid cyclist) but I didn't. Instead I started the descent in my dress and fashionable sneaks as if I was wearing overalls and hiking boots. Maybe it was a mistake. It took nearly three hours and used some muscles that hadn't even been invented yet. And both Brooke and I could barely walk the next day. And this was just a few days before the race!
Down the side of the mountain we go
I was pretty upset with myself. I began icing like crazy. I got a massage. I took medicinal baths. All in desperation to get back into racing shape. Except...I was still in unfamiliar territory. The day before race day we ventured out to Boulders Beach to see African penguins, and it was a lot further than we thought it would be. I hardly drank any water that day and had only eaten a cliff bar, a tuna sandwich and an ice cream cone (sold out of someone's driveway) and it was reaching 5:00 pm. This was the least amount of water and food I'd ever had before a big race. Luckily, we managed to find a place for dinner that served pasta. If none of this was anxiety-inducing enough, I had scheduled a car to pick me up at 5:00 am to take me to the race, and I was convinced the driver wasn't going to show up. Also, the weather forecast called for rain.
So how did the race end up going? It. Was. Awesome.
Jackass Penguin (really, that's what they are called)
My driver showed up on time, and he was a really sweet Zimbabwean who gave me a pep talk, seeming to be so excited about the race that it was hard not to get excited as well. I told him that I'd share my winnings with him if I won, and he assured me that he'd be looking for my results. Somehow, despite the tens of thousands of other runners (there was a huge half marathon that morning in addition to the ultra), he managed to get me so close to the starting area that I could see it from the taxi.
6:25 am, race time. South African National Anthem. Gun. It was a massive crowd of people and I just went with the flow, starting off at a very easy 10:30 pace to let my muscles warm up. After a couple of miles I started to gain some confidence and ran a pretty solid 9:45 (thanks Garmin watch!) until about the half marathon mark (13.1 miles or 21 km). An hour into the race it started to pour down rain as had been expected. But this didn't bother me and didn't seem to faze anyone around me either. We were all in good spirits. I had a lot of people around me asking me, "Robbin! Where are you from, Robbin?" My name was on my bib and the color of the bibs indicated whether you were South African or not. By the time the race was over my pink bib had washed completely white. The Two Oceans Marathon calls itself, "The most beautiful marathon in the world," and I heard a joker nearby exclaim, "Two Oceans Marathon: The most rainy marathon in the world."
Chapman's Peak was before the marathon mark (42 km), and I didn't expect it to be such a long uphill. Or maybe I'd read that but had forgotten while I focused on mentally preparing for Constantia Nek. I was able to keep running, although it was very slow. I reached a 13 minute pace, but I was passing other runners and walkers (nobody can walk the whole race, but many people walk the hills). Down the other side I made up for some time with a 9:30 pace.
Something really strange occurred during this race and that is that the first 42 kilometers felt like a breeze! There must be something psychological happening here. When I've run normal distanced marathons before, my body has started to really hurt the last few miles (sometimes even before, as was the case in the most recent NYC marathon I ran). Two Oceans was about 35 miles and I didn't start to really hurt until the last few miles of it. It's like when I'm guaranteed to finish my muscles and joints finally send the message to my brain that they hurt like hell.
At Constantia Nek, which is the gigantic hill after the 42 km mark, I kept running. Everyone else had started to walk (some of the people that I passed on Constantia Nek passed me later on, so walking doesn't necessary slow down your overall finish time...for me it's more about pride and wanting to run as much as I can), and as I reached the crest of the hill an announcer on a PA system said, "We have some very strong men out here and one even stronger woman." I grinned. I'd repeated my I-must-keep-going running mantra over and over outloud, "I think I can...I think I can...I think I can." Just like The Little Engine that Could, which is something I began to do involuntarily in the last mile of the first marathon I ever ran
With 5 kilometers left (about 3 miles), my legs really started to hurt, and one of my feet was doing that thing that it does sometimes where it goes numb and my toes curl up inside my shoe in long spasms. It's awkward. I stopped briefly for the count of ten a couple of times to stretch or bounce a little to try to loosen up whatever was going on. One of the guys I'd met early on in the race passed me and said, "Robbin! You waited for me, Robbin!" I smiled and waved at him, grateful for the encouragement from this funny stranger.
According to my watch 56 km came and went and I still didn't see the finish line, but it turned out to be right around the corner (was there an actual corner? I can't remember and was totally out of it by this point). This was a little bit disorienting. Also, the finish area was in a field at the University of Cape Town, and after having thousands of runners pass through in the rain (I don't know how many tens of thousands of half marathoners there were, but they had all crossed over this grassy field), the field was a soppy, muddy mess. I later found out that the men's winner of the ultra (in a time of 3:08) had even slipped in the mud and fallen right before breaking the tape.
Partly because I was delirious and partly out of joy I started to laugh. And then I started to cry. I always cry when I finish a marathon, and there were a lot of other people around me doing the same thing. Brooke was there to see me finish and she said that she nearly started to cry!
My finish time was 6:31:33 (56 km).
Posing with my medal
In case anyone has been following my training, I never did find any
potatoes along the course. In fact, I really didn't end up eating that much during the race. I had a peanut butter cliff bar an hour into the race, and at other points two gels. I couldn't get into the ice cream or chocolate that was handed out toward the end. I never felt hungry or sluggish. I drank a lot of water (which came in tiny sealed plastic bags that I had to bite a corner out of in order to sip the water...something that actually worked really well) and powerade.
A celebratory margarita
So, the most beautiful marathon in the world was the most rainy, and perhaps I didn't get to take in all the views that I was supposed to. But my experience was far from disappointing. In fact, I think the rain was a blessing for me since running in the hot sun for that long would have been difficult. I had an entire week to take in all the eye-popping beauty that Cape Town has to offer.
Taking in the beauty. Thanks, Cape Town.
If I lived in South Africa I would definitely do Two Oceans every year.
