Bamba Iqhaza

Yesterday I spent the better part of the afternoon lugging some big pieces of granite to an area under the front porch - in fact, directly under this study from which I am writing at the moment - propping them into position, and mixing mortar by hand in a wheelbarrow.  Instead of resting.  And as a result this morning's "long" run of 10 miles seemed more difficult than I expected.

I say "long" in quotation marks because 10 miles is a relatively short run when training for a marathon, as I have mentioned before in this blog.  William was here from New Jersey, training for his fifth marathon in New York City, and he ran 16 miles.  Anthony helped him out, ending up with 17 miles.  So 10 was not very long even compared to my companions this morning.  But it was long enough to make me question, as I have from time to time, whether this 65-year-old body can withstand the hardship of running 26.2 miles.  That seems to be a truly long way!  I let the others go on ahead most of the morning, maintaining my tortoise-like long-run pace of 10:45- to 11:00-minute miles, and musing about humility and self-confidence, how they are not opposites at all but actually complement each other in the runner.  I no longer go on training runs to compete with my running partners.  I'm too old and slow to dust anybody these days.

As I was finishing up with Pat and Karen, an "older" (those quotation marks again!) couple were coming down Fifth Street and asked me if I knew a good place to run.  "Sure," I said.  "Follow me!"  And I took them around the block, pointing out the green arrows recently painted for the Twilight Rock N Roll 5-K to be held here next Saturday night.  It quickly became apparent that they were not running as fast as I was at all, especially the woman, who seemed to struggle even with that little hill in front of the Catholic Church.  But when I began talking to the man - Bob, his name was - he explained that they were in the process of tapering for back-to-back marathons Labor Day weekend near Chicago.  "Back-to-back?" I asked.  "Yes, one on one day, the other the next day."

This 66-year-"old" runner - he would have to be exactly a year older than I, wouldn't he? - was then going to run a 50-mile ultra later in the year, and then his fourth Comrades Marathon in June.  I was astounded.  Comrades, for those who do not know, is a 56-mile ultra-marathon that has taken place in Natal Province, South Africa for almost 100 years, one of the most difficult ultra events in the world.  The race famously has a 12-hour time limit, at which time the officials simply close the gates at the finish line and those unlucky enough to not make it (7,000 or 8,000 runners) are simply out of it - no medal, no applause, no nothing.  That's a very serious time limit!

This was a message I needed to hear today.  If a 66-year-old runner can run two marathons on successive days, and complete a 56-mile race, then surely I, too, can dare to accomplish something grand and wonderful and completely insane.

Bamba Iqhaza:  that is the motto of Comrades, and it means "Be Part of It."  We can all learn that distance is merely another obstacle, and that there is always a reward for those who want to be part of it - even if the gate slams in your face.