No medal this year !!

Winning the marathon has always signalled the height of athletic prowess. Whist the title of fastest man/women on earth the 100 metres has the glamour, endurance races for me are the true epic of athletic achievement.
The Comrades marathon,at 56 miles, longer than the normal marathon. It always captivated the South African audience with its "cock crowing" start, to the climax of Polly Shortts this race is full of pathos.
Bruce Fordyce was the man, he was god. The only question asked as the race progressed was "where is Fordyce".
He always ran a cagy race, hovering about tenth as the race progressed easing himself forward to ninth, eighth, seventh, sixth, could he do it, surely not. And then came Polly in all her glory as he picked of the rest of the lead runners one by one. Imagine the the dismay, you had been up in front for most of the race when this enigma appeared on your shoulder, merciless he passed and left you in his wake as he surged yet again for another win. God was in his kingdom and all was well in the world. For Fordyce the anointed king, the race was won but for so many the challenge lay ahead, grinding out the miles, an eye on the clock, the cut offs at Drummond and Cato Ridge where, if out of time you were forced to retire, or the final ignominy, at the finishing line, the official turning his back on the approaching runners raises his gun as the time runs out to expel any further competitors from winning a medal.The crowd at the finishing line screaming, urging them on, people throughout the country watching on their television were doing the same, come on, come on, come on. The sound of the gun was like a shot through the heart to those still struggling towards the line, some sprinting, most close to crawling, it was to no avail, their effort in vain, no medal this year !! 
There are many tales of heroism, of camaraderie, of self discovery throughout the race. People plumb new depths or find a resilience that surprises them, stories to dine out on friendships that last a lifetime.
Amongst the good there is always the bad and downright foolish. The story of the guy who caught a taxi to shave off 40 ks, or the identical twins who shared the running by swapping every so often, the one resting whilst  his brother ran. Their only mistake was that they wore their watches on a different wrist and were disqualified.
Some of my fondest memories of South Africa were watching and trying to embroil my kids in the drama. It was theatre of the highest, a true life and death struggle carried out amongst a people who were living a schizophrenic existence but who came together on this day in a bond of common humanity.