The caffeine steeped in my belly like a warm tea bag and I imagined my blood turning a deep brown. Gradually, a sprightliness returned to my legs and even my bones felt new again. Roelof and I crested the fifth pass and strode along with relative ease – chatting, breathing and greeting the cows in the veld. As we carried over onto the next descent, I was filled with a relief and gratitude, feeling like a witness to my own legs, galavanting down the hill with grace and speed. I was conscious of the fact that the soreness in my joints had all but disappeared and imagined myself like a gazelle floating down into the savanna.
From this point, the space and time between the 6th and 7th pass become a blur. Something magical happens in the mind during a run of this length and magnitude. It is as if there is a dial in the brain that compresses the perception of time and effort, mercifully minimizing it into a state that is manageable for both the mind and body.
My memory becomes clear again at the point where we found a long stretch of tar road. For about an hour, we ran against a very subtle grade of elevation, hugging the left side of the road where we could jump in and out of the adjacent grass trail for some respite from the harsh Tarmac. The sun lifted higher and penetrated through the trees, making apparent the clouds of tiny, swarming flies hovering at just face level, exactly above the line where the tar met the grass. I was running just ahead of Roelof, and so met the little buggers first, defensively swinging my forearms in front of my face in a windshield-wiper/Kung-fu action. There was a brief minute or two where the air was clear and I looked down at my arms and chest, now freckled with tiny black flies and glistening in sticky sweat. The familiar smell of a wooden sauna emerged from the forest with the rising temperature and we searched for a sign post indicating our turn off into the woods.
The moment my right foot hit the single track, enthusiasm shot up from the earth and into my body. Nothing makes me feel quite as alive as running through the woods, leaping over roots and bouncing off rocks that interrupt the path. I felt like I could go forever in this forest and my pace quickened with the excitement. Also, I noticed a few imprints of 2″ tyre treads in the dirt below us and anticipated a mountain biker roaring around the bend behind me at any moment! This too added to the thrill. But all too soon, and without incident, the view ahead began to widen and our trail met a dirt road that would immediately descend and wind us down along the final pass: Phantom Pass.
My focus shifted to proper form and my mind returned to the mantra of a rhythmic breath: in-two-three, out-two, in-two-three, out-two. I tried to relax my body, knowing that this long descent was one of only few opportunities to recover. We curved around the corners, tracing the bends that curled like a lock of golden blonde hair. For 20 odd minutes, we descended towards the Knysna Lagoon, greeted by a slow but steady stream of mountain bikers who were meeting their first ascent. I thought it funny that they were encouraging us along, seeing as we obviously had the advantage of being on the downhill while they were pushing the climb, and I wondered if they had read the article in the newspaper and so knew how far we had come. I also considered how beaten and exhausted I must have looked at this point – perhaps that’s what gave our story away!
When we reached the base, I could see the red bridge ahead of us and shivered with glee. The support crew was standing outside of the vehicles waiting for us and I sprinted across the bridge with emotion bubbling in my chest and a smile tingling in my cheeks. This point represented a half way check point at 65 km and the completion of the official seven passes. Surely there would be more challenges ahead – challenges that later proved to be far more demanding than what was already behind us – but the encouragement from our team at this point made me feel like we would make it. I reminded myself of one of my own running affirmations: if you can do it once, you can do it at least once more.
I had several things to get done at this stop and tried to be as efficient as possible. I quickly changed out of my tights and into the Puma shorts we had been sponsored, as well as my fresh, white Superbar top to keep me cool as the afternoon approached. My starkly white thighs reflected the sun and seemed swollen above the sports tape I had applied to my knees. I smothered SPF 50 all over my arms but stopped short as I touched the left side of my neck and let out a cry of anguish. My form had apparently been a bit unbalanced, with my left arm swinging slightly further forward than my right causing the shoulder strap of my bag to rub at my neck. By this point I was near bleeding and our medic Roche brought out his kit to assist. As Yvonne filled my hydration bag with water and Tailwind, I rubbed the sun screen into my thighs and tried not to scream again as Roche dabbed my neck clean with alcohol. He carefully covered the raw skin with sports tape and then secured the chain of my silver necklace on top of it. He first suggested I should take it off to prevent any extra issues of chaff but I touched the tiny elephant sitting at my chest and told him I needed to wear it. Yvonne had given it to me for my birthday in November and I hadn’t taken it off since. It had become my “lucky necklace” and there was something special about wearing it through the Knysna forest where the small family of wild elephants roam free.
Roche checked our vitals and was happy to see my heart rate sitting at a healthy 98 bpm, Roelof reading at a similar rate. We got the ‘all-clear’ and shook out our legs which seemed to be ever more rusty after each rest stop. Ahead of us would be a long section of flat road running along the Lagoon and an opportunity to let the legs recover. Everything that laid ahead was a mystery: the road and the elevation profile, sure, but with each step I took forward I would get closer and closer to my own limitations, the notion of which was both exciting and terrifying. We had come this far and going forward into this unknown place was the only option. As Shakespeare’s Macbeth proclaimed, “I am in blood. Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go over”.
It was time to go over.
Eat Run Bee 