The first challenge was trying to secure an entry to this rather exclusive trail run. Due to the fact that it was taking place in a restricted part of the reserve and that we would be sharing this world with friendly animals such as Cape cobra, black rhino and Cape buffalo, the number of entrants was restricted to seventy. After initial excitement of hearing that I would be one of the selected few trail runners to take on the rugged terrain of this unspoilt wilderness, I realized that perhaps there was a difference between trail running and following a tar road. The obvious difference became apparent at the start. I was one of very few runners, maybe the only person, wearing road-running shoes while the others were wearing trail running shoes – I did make mention to my fellow trail runners that I was wearing the latest in ‘racing’ trail shoes.
The second difference was that you needed to pay attention to the pre-race instructions as, unlike triathlons or road running, there tend to be fewer marshals at trail runs, no tar roads and, after a while, very little path, let alone anything that resembles a path.
The third difference was that I ran most of the way by myself – I was hoping it was not something to do with a lack of speed as I had flashes of the hunter going for the weakest link. I do admit that the thought of meeting one of the legends did cross my mind but, then again, trying to reach the top of the first hill had me pretty concerned. But running by myself through this beautiful world that we as South Africans have access to was the highlight of the run.
There was no pushing and shoving at the start, no hundreds of water sachets lying at the side of the road or thrown into the bush – heck there was only one water station along the entire 40 km route!
The sheer joy of solo ‘running’ through and on the mountains felt glorious, almost Zen-like – although for most of the route, stumbling, walking and even sliding would be a more accurate description of my progress.
To describe the route profile is not difficult, but running it is very difficult; suffice to say that after a short sharp climb early on to wipe the sleep out of our eyes there is a very steep climb to the plateau, although I can’t recall ever reaching anything remotely plateau like. The climb was over rocky, very uneven and unstable scree, or it could have been that by then my oxygen-deprived legs were also contributing to my instability. Then there is a steep descent through the bush – literally. This section generated bushels of rather descriptive language - language that was probably ecologically unfriendly, surely not kind to the environment, especially if someone happened to blunder into your proximity. The spekboom thickets proved their dominance and for some, knowing that the finish was in sight, frustration set in. If you were lucky and had sharp kudu eyes, you might fhave found an animal track belonging to the smallest of duikers, otherwise it was a zigzag through the spekboom maze.
The scree we slipped over on the way up was nothing compared to the scree we met on the way down. I’m hoping that my path, skillfully crafted during my descent using for the most part my gluteus maximus and lots of other Latin words, will still be clearly visible for next year’s plunge to the finish.
Over a cold refreshing drink in the shade of the yellowwood thicket at the finish, those last few kilos dominated conversation. While the difficulty of the route grew with each telling, you could sense everyone’s pride swelling at having ‘been there, done that’.
The joy of finishing the run and showing off my new battle scars and sharing war stories with fellow trail runners was awesome, but being part of the Liberty Health Baviaanskloof Trail Run, to my mind, priceless. And at the end of the day there were fifty-nine survivors... er, finishers.
Peter Marriott has completed three Ironman, three Comrades, four Rhodes Trail Runs, has provincial colours for triathlon and duathlon and national colours for duathlon, and finished twelfth in the above race.