This column by Simon Gear first appeared in Runners World SA in June 2008

There seems to be a concern in some quarters that the two grand old dames of South African road running, Comrades and Two Oceans, are beginning to suffer dwindling numbers in the face of competition from a host of younger, shorter races.  Oceans has already spawned a half marathon which has supplanted the 56 as the biggest event of the weekend, and Comrades is rumoured to add their own half to the calendar soon, although not on the same day.

It’s no secret that South Africans are distance obsessed, to the point where a standard marathon is no longer a race but more a combination training run and qualifying event for something bigger and more glamorous.  I know many runners who can’t even tell you with certainty what their marathon PBs are, but can recite their ultra splits for the last decade.

Even non-runners know the score.  You only have to mention that you popped out for a jog on the weekend and co-workers will immediately ask if you’re planning to run Comrades.  Tell fellow runners that you ran 42 last Sunday and they may ask you what time you ran, but only in terms of what seeding that gives you.  And no one gets judged by their marathon time because everyone knows that it isn’t a real race.  If you were slow, you were just trundling a qualifier early in your training plan.  If you were fast, you could have gone much quicker but fear of injury and over racing demands that you save your legs for the Big One. 

You really see this attitude thrown into stark relief when some poor foreigner blunders into a South African runners’ circle.  I know of one American who, excited at spending a year in the home of distance running, struggled through his first marathon in the Natal Midlands only to be asked at the end, “How do you feel at having missed the Comrades qualifying cut off?”

At the other end of the scale, an old training partner of mine, now fled to Birmingham, casually mentioned to his Brummy track group that he was doing London the following week. They couldn’t believe that anyone would consider lining up for a marathon without at least a year of dedicated training.  And these guys were real athletes.  16 minute 5k men.

And you know what?  They were right.

Ultras have been Hermes’ gift to South African athletics.  They’ve provided heroes, sponsorship, TV audiences and generation after generation of dedicated roadrunners to help fill the calendar with races all year round.  Would you be running a marathon in February if Comrades wasn’t waiting for you in June?  I doubt it.   On the back of the endurance  obsession have come the big cycle races for which South Africa is unique and more recently, the boom of adventure racing and multi day events like the Cape Epic.  You couldn’t have any of this if South Africans weren’t steeped in a culture of long, slow distance.

The flip side of this is that, as runners, we often forget that there is anything worthwhile going on at any distance under 50 kays.  Do you have any idea how intimidating that must feel to someone entering our sport for the first time?  Everything about most clubs is geared to the ultra distance runner.  Our time trials are hilly leg-strength testers.  Our Sunday morning club runs average out at a pretty monstrous 25km a week.  I bet that if you have one club dinner a year, it is either a pre- or post Comrades event.

A strange side effect of our ultra obsession is that we grow up to be a lot more afraid of pain than the rest of the world.  The thing with long distance is that as long as you have done enough long slow miles in training, anyone can trundle the road between Durban and Maritzburg in the allotted time.  Time no longer really counts as a generation embraces the “run to finish”.  But if you run a 10k, particularly one that you have been training for for 6 weeks, suddenly you know that you are about to enter a world of pain.

Don’t get me wrong, I love our big old races and long may they dominate our scene.  But do me two favours.  Recognise the marathon for what it is, not just an entry permit into something longer and slower but a rite of passage on its own.  And once a year, walk away from your ultra calendar, lace on your fast shoes, and remind yourself how to hurt.