By Henning van Aswegen
I had done it all, or so I thought. Comrades, Two Oceans, Hawaii Ironman, Nice Ultra Triathlon, Ultraman, Bosveld 4x4, Hare op Jou Tande, Ultra Swims, off road mountain bike duathlons and some other stuff.
But nothing prepared me for Rhodes 1999 and that slight incline called Mavis Bank. Some friends in our club convinced me to give Rhodes a try, saying I would enjoy this slightly off the wall cross country fun run. They were even kind enough to organize a number for me. They never mentioned anything about the freezing cold, the winds, the stones and rivers and thorn bushes along the way and that incline called Mavis Bank.
Going up the mountain I conducted myself badly, cursing myself, my perfidious friends and the fiendish people from the Rhodes Club for conceiving such a brutal and diabolical race. Constantly thinking that this is a race fit only for mad dogs and nutcases did not help. I still had to get to the top of Mavis and avoid being branded a sissy by my club mates who had done Rhodes many times before.
Despite the thorns in my legs and a few tumbles, I conquered Mavis Bank, only to be told by a lay to smile for the camera. A gulp of soup and a sandwich later I was on my way. Sucking air out of the freezing wind I could not help thinking about the warm and cozy pub of the night before and that some blokes were sitting there now, having a beer and watching rugby.
Gradually the sheer beauty of the mountains, Lesotho in the distance and the crystal blue air superseded thoughts of the warm pub. I relaxed and started enjoying the race – I was having fun!
The most brilliant people in the world manned the watering points and their encouragement meant everything. Going down the cement spoor was hell on earth, resurrecting the ghosts of Comrades and the pain in my dead legs. The fading miles and the baking sun generated a new energy and I became stronger and stronger as the little town of Rhodes appeared in the distance. A friendly chap at the last watering point took the trouble to walk and talk with me for a while, making sure that I drank my water and Coke for the last three kilometers.
The local folks cheered and waved – it was all worthwhile as I finished under the banner amidst many smiles and a cup of hot soup from a lady next to the club house. Sister Ekron removed the thorns from my leg with a tweezer and a bit of TLC and the world seemed a better place. I toasted the mountains, the race and all the folks in Rhodes who organized it and drank my soup with gusto. I knew I had earned it.
Thanks a million for a great experience !
