TnT Unleashed 1pic4twenty Blog

 

Are you thinking of running the Surfer’s Marathon?

See some 2010 Surfers Marathon photos here

How far is the Surfer’s Marathon coastal challenge in East London?
The distance of the Surfer’s Marathon is 16 km. The entire 16 kilometres is not all on sand, but for most runners it just about feels like it!

About two thirds of the race sees runners and walkers shuffling over soft sand and slippery wobbly rocks, and crossing two rivers – the Gonubie River, and the Nahoon River.

Where does the Surfer’s Marathon start?
The Surfers Marathon starts at Kwelera Mouth. Take a right at Crossways, at The Village Centre, on the East Coast Resorts Road, then just stay on that road down to the coast.

Can I park my car at the start of the Surfer’s Marathon?
The Surfers Marathon does not end where it starts, there is very little parking space at the start of the race, and you need to get a lift to the start, or catch the busses leaving from the Nahoon Beach parking lot.

I’ve done 13 Surfers Marathon coastal challenge races. I’ve run 10 and walked 3. I did 5 runs before having my 2 sons, and have done 5 runs and 3 walks since. I was 22 years old when I ran my first Surfers Marathon in 1992, and was the 9th lady home in a time of 1 hour and 43 minutes. In 1993 I managed a very similar time, but only a 15th position in the ladies category. The race was becoming popular, and more and more people were entering each year.

I think I’m supposed to have my permanent number for having completed 10 of the runs, but not sure how that works, as I don’t have mine. Perhaps the confusion comes in because of running my first 5 under my maiden name of Terry Bosch. Entries used to be taken at Pollocks Sports, not Sportsmans Warehouse.

I remember running the entire 16 km Surfers route with an ex boyfriend for the first time 9 days before my first race in 1992, and again 6 days before the race. Of course, not being a wonderful swimmer, it was a little daunting swimming across the Gonubie River and the Nahoon River with no life guards on duty or ropes stretched across the river, but it was done, along with 6 alsation dogs.

 

In February 2008 Tony and I ran the Surfers Marathon. It was Tony’s first attempt. He’s not from East London originally, and everywhere we went a few weeks and days before the race, everyone was speaking about the Surfers Marathon. I convinced Tony, that, since he was here to stay, he could not call himself a true East Londoner without participating in the famous 16 km East London coastal race.

We really hadn’t trained much at all – in fact I don’t think we had managed to run more than 3 km in any one particular training session, but were fitting in our very short little runs quite regularly, even though hadn’t done any exercise for a good few months prior to just two short months before the day of the Surfers was upon us, and decided to go ahead and enter.

 

We caught one of the first busses from the Nahoon parking lot and got to the start at Kwelera Mouth really early, but relaxed, and drank plenty of water.

Nerves set in shortly before the start and we went rushing off to join the queues at the loos, but relaxed again once amidst hundreds of other runners all eagerly waiting to start the race. Athletes were doing last minute calf stretches if they had enough space around them – so that wasn’t many – and were crouching from time to time to check the laces on their running shoes just one last time.

Then we were off!

It’s about 1 km of dirt road, and plenty of bodies all around you, jostling for position, or cursing when somebody stops dead in front of you to wait for a friend, until you get to the fork. The fork where you decide to either run a little along tar before tackling the beach, but seems somewhat slightly further, or, follow a little grass path down to the soft sand and rocks of the East London coastline straight away.

That grass path is a pain if coming up behind a person who suddenly decides to slow down as it’s difficult to overtake on the path, which isn’t too long but suddenly seem really long, and if one didn’t understand the jostling for position over the previous kilometre, one understands it then.

Tony was right behind me as I hit the sand – I checked – and I was pleased our pace seemed to be in tune with each other, as we had promised not to leave each other behind, and to complete the race together, and if our pace was the same, it was going to be easy to stick together.

 

About 100 metres along the beach, I glanced over my shoulder to check that Tony was still right behind me. He wasn’t.

He was waaaay back. Walking!

I stopped and waited. He caught up. He said “Are we there yet?”

Oh dear!

The transition from dirt road to sand had caught Tony totally unawares. He hadn’t realised that running along soft sand actually meant picking up those legs a reasonable distance with each step.

He assured me he was feeling a bit better from the brief walk, and we set off, jogging again, side by side. Tony dropped slightly behind me, but only just, and we continued along the coast like that. For about another 100 metres.

When I realised he was again missing, I actually jogged back to him to encourage him on. And so it went on, the entire 5 kilometres to the Gonubie River crossing. Stop. Get Tony. Go. Stop. Get Tony. Go.

By the way, he’s watching me write this, and is just laughing, so he doesn’t mind the story of how he sucks at running on sand. In fact, he has just added that he doesn’t think each burst of running was as far as 100 metres.

I was still feeling pretty good at the Gonubie River crossing, and felt quite disgruntled about the distance already covered – because even though Tony sucked on the sand, when it came to crossing boulders, negotiating wobbling rocks particularly in the Rainbow Valley area, or slippery rockpools, Tony flew, and it was me who then struggled to keep up.

 

Once across the beach beneath the Gonubie Boardwalk, and up to a refreshing and welcome water point in front of the Gonubie Hotel, it was all systems go. We were on tar!

Although the tar seemed to stretch on forever, we settled into a nice comfortable pace, and it was great being cheered on by all the spectators in Gonubie, or to run through a spray of water from hosepipes being held by Gonubie gardeners not gardening that day.

I don’t know if it was the rather boring long stretch of tar that got to me, or the first third of the race where I had constantly been running back to get Tony, but as we again hit the sand for the last third of the race, I’d had enough.

It was Tony’s turn to do the encouraging, and he did an excellent job of keeping me going, even though at times I thought it seemed like that Nahoon Surf Lifesaver’s shack didn’t look like it was getting any closer, no matter how many steps I took.

Somehow, we made it, in 2hours 11 minutes, and got our tshirts.

We’re both terribly unfit right now, and gave the 2009 Surfers Marathon a miss, but I don’t think I can totally forget about competing in the coastal challenge again, and, perhaps, will give it another shot or two.

 

I have many memories from having competed in the Surfers Marathon over the years – some even a little scary, like the time I decided to swim the Gonubie River, instead of using the rope, and started washing upstream and when a lifesaver on a paddleski asked if I needed any help, I said no thanks, but luckily he stayed close by because about 5 seconds later I thought uh uh, I need some help trying to swim across this current!

Another time, the tide was coming in so quickly, a time when the walkers still used to start the race before the runners, and walkers, some quite elderly, were hanging on the rope in a bit of a panic, afraid to move, and runners were pouring onto the rope, just weighing it down further. People were afraid to even move hand over hand along the rope as the current was so strong if felt like you were going to be ripped right off the rope, and when finally managing to get to the other side after those who wouldn’t move were helped across by lifesavers, it was difficult to even get your legs down to the sand from a horizontal position on the water.

Some people who had thought they might be able to swim across had jumped into the water on the wrong side of the rope, and were immediately carried on the current to bang up against all those hanging on the rope. The rope was under the water a bit due to the weight of many hanging on it, and people washing up against the rope were getting their heads stuck there because of the rest of their body continuing to carry on upstream! So, some scary memories too, but having the walkers now start after the runners has sorted everything out, and, of the 13 races I’ve done, it’s just that one year that the current seemed so bad.

I just wish there was a better system in place to prevent people who enter as walkers starting ahead of time with the runners. I won the ladies walking race two years in a row – in 2005 and 2006, I think, and in one of those years, even though it was clear that I led virtually from the start, had people along the route congratulating me as the first lady walker, and when handing in my name at the finish line received a further “congratulations – you’re the first lady walker”, I was denied being called up at prize giving as the first lady walker, because, according to the system, the first lady walker had come in ahead of me – which was impossible according to her finishing time which I checked later. It would have probably have been an amazing world record. She wasn’t there otherwise could have maybe rectified the situation immediately. She, and many others who had entered as walkers, had started earlier with the runners, and denied many true race walkers their rightful postion. Perhaps it was a true mistake and they’d simply started the race with the wrong group at the starting line, but it was still upsetting. It was one of the times I’d walked my heart out, but have since let it become “just one of those things” – and I felt proud when I went on to win the ladies 15 km walk in the Komga Cabbage Patch the same year.

You may also like to read:

Who am I to give long jump or running advice?

my tips for coaching primary school long jump athletes

What to do in a long jump sandpit

also see these descriptions of ebooks:

Marathon Training for Beginners

Nordic Walking

Over 100 recipes for great athletic perfomance

© Teresa Schultz 2009