My First Time

Do you remember your first race? Were you scared or excited? Did you know what you were doing or was it a spur of a moment decision. I remember my first time clearly, like it was yesterday, and I still have the temporary license as a memento.

It was a clear Sunday morning when I got up and got dressed to go to what was going to be my first 10km race. My wife had gone to a team-building weekend in the Free State so I was alone as I drove to Durban North where this race was taking place. I had done five 5km races in the five months prior to this, and I was also huge, wearing 5XL shirts and size 56 shorts. Very difficult to find athletic clothes when you are that size.

So here I am, a green novice who knows nothing. When I arrive at this race and go inside to the school yard where the race is being held, they tell me to pay there at the table and the lady behind the table asked ““Do you have a license?””

““Huh, I have a driver’’s license, and a gun license?”” I said.

““No, a provincial license,”” she said.

““No... I don’’t... think so,”” I replied at the rather strange question.

““Well, you will have to buy a temporary license,”” she stated.

Now I was confused. Here I am to try and better my 5-kay record by doing a 10-kay and suddenly I must have a license. Well, she gives me all the licenses and tags and that’’s it –– now what must I do with this stuff? Being a male, naturally I don’’t ask, I just look around and see another novice with temporary licenses on her shirt…… Oh, okay, they go on your shirt, front and back. So I pin these licenses on my shirt and make my way to the start.
Huge crowd at the start, so I hang around at the back feeling very self-conscious amongst these slim athletic types. Finally bang and we are off, and I start struggling. Really, at the time I was a shuffler more than anything else. At about 180 kilograms, running is not a possibility.

Now on a 5-kay they turn you at two-and-a-half kays, so here I am in the hot Durban sun trudging along waiting for that magical 5km turn-around point. Finally I arrive at the 5-kay board, but the marshal says carry on in the same direction. Confusion, but anyway, off I go, to 6 kays, 7 kays, 8 kays. Enough is enough, and I ask a walker who is battling like me,
““When do we turn around?””

"Probably halfway," he said.

"Oh okay then," I said surprised.

"What do you think you are running?" he asked.

"10km," I replied.

He smiled and said "No, my friend, this is a half marathon."

Holy hell, what have I done! A 21.1-kay! Well, there and then I made a decision to continue, to push through no matter what, and I did. Blisters and chafing were the order of the day and my cross-trainers were protesting the whole way, obviously due to my weight.

I came into the finish at 3 hours 50 minutes, and found that the organising club had not packed up and had waited for me to come in. There were many athletes still there and they got up and stood around the tape on the cordoned off finish lane and clapped hands as I came home. At the finish they gave me a medal, plus a Powerade and a Nando’’s burger.

I wore that medal with pride –– even though I could hardly move for four days after the race!

That was six years ago, and today I can do a 2:29 on a half marathon, being 70-odd kilograms lighter. The message here is that novices should not be intimidated by your first race. Ask those in club kit for help if you need help, because the majority of us regular runners and walkers are very friendly. For the runners and walkers who have experience, help out the ‘‘lost’’ temporary runner or walker. It is one way to make sure our sport grows.