coops first comrades
Posted on 30 May 2011
A happy start to another adventure filled week. I trust you are happy and well. So this past Sunday the road from Durban to PMB was packed with enthusiastic runners all vying for a place on the finish line before the dreaded gun went off.
As a little girl I lived in Cowies Hill so as far back as I can remember we were always part of the roadside festivities. My Dad used to get up bright and early while it was still dark and he would go down to the corner of the main road and he would mow and get our site looking all tidy and neat complete with the braai. My mum would then lay a table with all sorts of eats and we would set up our deck chairs waiting to get a glimpse of the first runner. It was always such an exciting day as all the kids would gather and cheer on each and every runner as they passed. I would always collapse into bed after the fun day - anyone would have thought I had run 80 somewhat kilometers.
My Dad ran the Comrades in 1973. My Gran drove alongside as my Dad pounded the tarmac. He would stop every now and then for an ice cold drink. Gosh I can only imagine the pride you must feel as your child moves towards the finish line of the grueling race. Every year I watch amazed as ordinary people do the extraordinary. It is an amazing goal to achieve. Every year my husband gets super amped and feels so motivated to do the race. I however admire the runners but know that 5kms into it, the novelty would have worn off for me and I would be thumb out looking for a ride.
This past Sunday we had a family braai and I cheered at the TV as I sipped a glass of wine. How cute is this picture of my Dad with his medal celebrating Coopers first Comrades.