Running Comrades Marathon was never on my bucket list. If you had told me that I would be so far in years ago, I would have completely dismissed the idea. I undertook the challenge in 2015 with resistance through the substitution period after a friend suffered an injury and then offered his entry. My acceptance condition was to finish the Two Oceans Ultra Marathon comfortably and decide thereafter. Fast forward, years later I completed it for five consecutive years. This is the Comrades Marathon edition where I thought that things were going to go wrong. A week before the race, I was hit by anxiety, and it didn’t help that the weather gods were playing tricks in the sky with strong cold winds. Paranoia also joined the party, and I started feeling physically ill. I tried every trick in the book to keep upbeat, nourished, and hydrated and thankfully it all worked in my favour. The truth is, I was under-trained and relied heavily on muscle memory and experience to see me through it all. Comrades Marathon is revered by many, and I for one don’t take it lightly.
Preparations: Base Training
My base training started in December 2021 with easy 5km runs and I gradually increased the distances as the season progressed. Starting from the bottom is sometimes hard and frustrating, especially as a returning road runner. I soon realized there was a clear contrast between the runner I used to be and where I currently was. It is inherent in runners to offer unsolicited advice on how to improve in running, this advice is often accompanied by banter, but that didn’t deter me much. I needed to focus on being a better runner rather than being stuck in the comparison traps.

In 2019 after the Comrades Marathon, I intentionally decided to take a hiatus from road running to explore other personal interests. After this, the world was hit by a pandemic that brought everything to a standstill including road running events. During this time, I dabbled in trail running, an experience that I loved except for the fact that it leaked holes in my pockets. I was convinced I would not return to the streets, at least not for a long while, but I gave in to FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) as soon as Comrades Marathon entries opened. The reopening of major sporting events after Covid-19 was significant and like many historians, I wanted to be part of the story being written. I also wanted to prove to myself that I could return to the streets and conquer the ultimate human race.
Qualifying race: Irene Ultra-marathon to Wally Hayward Marathon
As usual, I drafted a race schedule at the beginning of the training season and planned races to run; one as the qualifier and the other as a training run. Motivation took longer than expected to kick in, so long that I once contemplated sitting this race out. However, I persevered a bit longer, thanks to the support and encouragement received from friends and counterparts. To keep myself accountable, I started to share my runs on Instagram stories and narrated my journey through the platform. We take for granted how many people we impact with our stories, and how far courage can reach, and this made me not only accountable to myself but to the aspirants alike.

Time went by and qualifying marathons were nearing but I still didn’t feel prepared. I had earmarked the Irene Ultra Marathon as my qualifier, a race I previously enjoyed and hoped that the home ground would pay an advantage, but it didn’t. Instead, I earned the first DNF to my name, an acronym used to transcribe “Did Not Finish”. My chest started closing as early as the 17th kilometer in the race, which was puzzling considering that I had no history of respiratory issues, nor had I been running at an abnormal pace. I had to take an executive decision to bail out at the 30th kilometer where our club’s support was stationed, to prioritize my health. Soon after the race I sought medical attention, I needed to be certain that I could take on another race without compromising my health. I had a chest x-ray done, but nothing was detected. Training resumed as soon as I was cleared, and I managed to qualify at the Wally Hayward Marathon.
Race Day: The real test
The Comrades Marathon is a transformative experience. As it is commonly said, if you want to see the spirit of South Africans, it’s highly recommended that you run the race or support the race at least once. It will shift your perspective and restore some hope in humanity. It also gives one a chance to declutter personal struggles and therein lies a chance for healing.

The commute to Pietermaritzburg is long and dreadful, preceded by the anticipation of what lies ahead. Firstly, one hardly catches a wink of sleep the night before the race, and we get up in the ungodly hours to avoid traffic to ensure that we are at the starting point within a reasonable time. Like most major marathons around the world, runners are allocated to different seedings according to Comrades Marathon race qualifying times. There are 9 seeding batches in alphabetic order, starting with A seeding being the fastest runners, and ending with H seeding being the happy runners or not-so-fast runners. Included in the seeding batches are charity runners and the green number club. Comrades Marathon has long-standing traditions observed before the start of the race which goes on for at least 15 to 20 minutes. It’s a gun-to-gun race, which means that the starting time for all runners is when the gun goes off and not when the runners cross the mat. Back runners can lose on average up to 9 minutes before crossing the starting line mat. Every second is crucial and can potentially impact a runner’s finish time. I was positioned in the F seeding and lost approximately 4 minutes.
Pacing duties: The elusive green number
I have mostly opted to tackle my Comrades Marathon runs solo to avoid added pressure. Yes, there have been people I have partly shared the road with for an extended time, but it has always been purely coincidental. When Phillip Ralehlaka suggested that we run together, I was reluctant but hesitantly agreed. The pressure to deliver was stretched, although the agreement was that we would run at my pace. We were privy to each other’s running biography and thus understood each other’s strengths and weaknesses. He was going for the green number (10 comrades runs) and I for the 6th. We missed each other at the start, and this reduced the chances of us running together, but as fate would have it, he caught up with me around the 15th kilometer.

The pressure mounted now; I was no longer running just for myself but for him as well. Halfway into the race he started complaining about his groin being painful, I thought that it would cost us, but he persevered, thankfully. Every kilometer is an encounter with a series of varying emotions and different bodily pains, and as such one learns to silence them. With the finish line in mind, I had to constantly remind myself to run the kilometers I was in, painfully aware of how my body was responding to the pounds of the tar while also checking in with my counterpart. The support from friends and clubmates was incredible, an act of kindness to which I’m deeply indebted. Seeing them at different support stations was always a surprise because traffic to the support points can be hectic.
At around the 80th kilometer, our devices started to give in. We decided to stick to a Sub-11 bus and not get sidetracked by time, a decision that paid off in the end, even when we initially thought they were too fast. There were a lot of grace walks, especially on the hills and long stretches, which made up for time banked. At some point, it appeared that the bus was stretching it thin to make it by 11 hours, so we decided to leave them behind with just 4kms to go. I don’t know where the strength or courage emerged from, but we pushed hard in those last few kilometers. Also, we didn’t want to run the risk of not meeting the sub-11 target. We had come too far to just miss sub-11 by an inch. The euphoria of entering the stadium is unmatched and one cannot help but get emotional.
Six Comrades Marathon medals later, I now think that the elusive green number is within reach, and why not go for the long haul? One thing is for sure, commitment takes effort and a lot of sacrifices.
Beautiful and inspiring journey! I amazed that you are now on 6th medal. So the sub 11 bus worked for you this time around 👌
Congratulations on growing your Comrades medals collection! 🏅
And, thank you for telling the story in such an inspirational manner.
Cheers to revival! 🕺🏾
The way you write sends me straight to that tarmac with you. Really amazing Ms Mojela. ❤❤❤❤
firstly you are such an amazing writer! Building all this up? loved it!
Reading this post made me both anxious and excited at the same time!
here I am sitting on the edge of my chair thinking gun to gun, losing 4-9 minutes, devices failing at 80ks? But the ending with being in it for the long haul and going for the green number was the ending I needed and excitement i needed ❤️
Congratulations once again Phuti! You are incredible!