Comrades is all of us

On Sunday, 14 June 2026, around 22 000 runners will line up for the 99th running of the Comrades Marathon.

An Up Run. Durban to Pietermaritzburg. Ska Fela Moya. Do not lose spirit. Do not give up.

That phrase is not marketing fluff. Not for this race. Not for South Africa. Not for anyone who has stood at the start before sunrise, heard Chariots of Fire, Shosholoza, the cock crow and the gun and then watched thousands of ordinary people do something extraordinary.

Comrades is a race, yes. But it is also a mirror. It shows us who we are. It shows us what we can endure. It shows us that strangers can help each other. It shows us that South Africans, when we choose to, can still gather around something bigger than ourselves.

I have said before that Comrades is one of the best things about South Africa. I believe that even more strongly now.

But here is the most important thing about Comrades: it is not about one person.

That is the beauty of it.

Yes, there are legends. Of course there are legends.

Vic Clapham, the man who started it all in 1921 as a living memorial to the spirit of comradeship and to those who had suffered and died in war.

Frances Hayward, who in 1923 became the first woman to run and complete the race, unofficially, because women were not allowed to enter. She finished anyway. Of course she did.

Bruce Fordyce, whose nine wins shaped the childhood imagination of so many of us who grew up with Comrades on the television and the radio. The first time I ran alongside Bruce in a race (to be accurate, when he ran past me) I was in awe.

Elena Nurgalieva, with eight wins, the most by any woman in the history of the race.

Louis Massyn, the first person to complete 50 Comrades. Fifty. There is madness in that. There is also glory. And I loved interviewing Oom Louis at Woordfees last year.

Cheryl Winn, 1982 winner, former Chair of the Comrades Marathon Association, friend and a big reason I am on the board today. Cheryl understood the race as an athlete, administrator, custodian and lover of this strange, wonderful, demanding thing. This is the first Comrades after her death. We remember and honour you, Cheryl.

And there are so many more.

If I start naming them all, we will be here all day. If I start telling every story, we will be here for the rest of the week.

The runner who named his son Arthur after Arthur Newton and Arthur’s Seat. Arthur Newton won Comrades five times in the 1920s, and Arthur’s Seat, just after Drummond, remains one of the sacred little places on the route. Runners greet Arthur, leave flowers and hope for a strong second half. It is irrational. It is beautiful. It is Comrades.

The runner who has Comrades jackets for his dogs.

The runner who is doing it for a parent.

The runner who has no money but somehow found a way.

Every Comrades runner has a story.

Every runner.

And that is before we get to every supporter, every volunteer, every seconder, every family member, every medic, every traffic officer, every cleaner, every sponsor, every staff member at Comrades House, every person who has ever stood on the side of the road and shouted for a stranger.

Comrades is about all of us.

Always.

This year I have the immense privilege of serving as Race Day Chair. In practical terms, that has happened because our Chairperson, Mark Leathers, our Vice Chairperson, Nontuthuko Mashimane and our previous Chairperson, Mqondisi Ngcobo, are all running. Which is exactly as it should be. Comrades must be led by people who understand it from the road, not only from the boardroom.

And so, while they run, I will be at the finish. Handing out medals. Cheering. Trying not to cry too often — failing, no doubt!

Alongside me will be Barry Holland, our Race Day Deputy Chair. Barry has 49 Comrades medals. Forty-nine. Let that settle for a moment. Barry is not simply a runner. He is Comrades royalty. A gentleman. A legend. A living bridge between the race that was and the race that will be. To spend time with him, to hear the stories, to listen to the detail and love he carries for this event, is a gift.

That, for me, is the heart of this blog.

Comrades is not carried by one person. It never has been.

It is carried by people. And I don’t mean the bureacrats who want to claim it. Rather, the 34 runners who lined up for the first Comrades in 1921. The 22 000 or so who will line up this year. And yes, also the board.

Boards are often boring things. At their worst, they become ego stages, power clubs or policy prisons. At their best, they are custodians. They hold something in trust. They ask: what must we protect, what must we change and what must we build?

That is the work now for the current Comrades board — deeply focused on runner experience, safety and building stronger foundations.

Comrades is nearly 100 runnings old. The centenary in 2027 is not just another event. It is a national moment. But getting there properly means doing the hard, often unglamorous work now. Governance. Operations. Safety. Broadcast rights. Membership. Charities. Sponsorship. Route planning. Financial discipline. Staff structures. Volunteer systems. History. Innovation. Tradition.

We must keep the traditions that matter but we must not fossilise the race.

We must innovate without becoming gimmicky.

We must grow without losing soul.

That sounds easy. It is not.

Which is why people matter.

Eighteen months ago I did not know Mark Leathers. Today I count him as a close friend. He has also done legal work for me, including the recent sale and transfer of my dad’s home after his death, which he completed with ridiculous efficiency in under two months. That is Mark. Fast. Clear. Precise. No drama.

He is the youngest Chairperson in Comrades history. He runs. He flies planes. He practises law superbly. He builds businesses. He is loyal. He is not always diplomatic. Good. We have enough diplomatic fog in the world. Mark is honest to a tee, inspirational, deeply capable and has no time for nonsense. He is, in my biased but considered view, the right leader at the right time.

Nontuthuko Mashimane, our Vice Chairperson, is also my friend. She lives in Pietermaritzburg, which is not simply a city for Comrades people. It is a spiritual home. Her whole family is embedded in the race. She carries Comrades in her bones. She has run it, served it, raised money through it and helped deepen its community impact.

For me, Nonthu represents so much of what South Africa truly is and can be. Strong. Warm. Rooted. Capable. Inclusive. Proud. This year I will be at the finish with champagne for her. That is not negotiable. Next year, at the 100th running, she plans to run her 10th Comrades. I may need more champagne.

Mqondisi Ngcobo, our previous Chairperson, remains on the board. It matters that he is still there. Continuity matters. Institutional memory matters. Comrades has had enough years where politics, personality and pressure clouded the bigger picture. The move from one chair to the next must not be about rupture. It must be about building. Mqondisi has served this 105-year-old association with passion and care and his continued presence, diplomacy and gravitas give us perspective as we head towards 2027. I am rooting for your sub-8 hours, my friend.

Brenda Marolen brings a Gauteng energy to what many people still lazily think of as only a KwaZulu-Natal race. Comrades belongs to KZN, yes, but it also belongs to all of us. Brenda understands people. She coaches. She listens. She knows HR. I have learnt a lot from her in hotel bars over red wine, which is often where the real work happens. She has integrity. Proper integrity. The kind you can feel before someone has to tell you about it.

William Mtolo — Willie to many of us — has won races (I mean, big races like the New York Marathon), inspired runners and lived the sport. He is a farmer, a champion and a gentle, smart presence. There is something deeply grounding about people who have actually done the thing. Not spoken about it. Not theorised it. Done it. Willie has done it and still gives back.

Rory Steyn is known to many as Nelson Mandela’s former bodyguard. That alone would be enough for several lifetimes of stories. But what I love about Rory is not the famous CV. It is his humanity. He is into family, sport and people. He treats others with respect. He shows genuine interest. He has seen power up close and somehow managed not to become pompous. That is rare.

Alan Gray is, simply, one of the GOATs of Comrades. Natal royalty. Running royalty. But also a man building legacy. He and his wife Felicity lived in the Philippines, which means we also chat about that part of the world because of my EasyEquities links there. Alan is doing the Otter with his daughters later this year. That tells you plenty. Family. Adventure. Continuity. The next generation. Not a bad way to live. I look up to the man.

Lené Swart is Afrikaans like me, but the similarities end there — she is much smarter and a superb runner. She brings finance, discipline, humour and a sharp mind to the board. She is fun. She is funny. She is also sadly injured this year, which will hurt, because runners who cannot run Comrades when their heart wants to be on the road suffer in a particular way. I love the connections she brings too, including mutual mates from the Hollard days like Ricky, now heading up crypto at FNB. South Africa is a village, especially when Comrades is involved.

And Barry Holland. I come back to Barry because how can one not? Forty-nine medals. Stories for days. Wisdom without arrogance. A true gentleman. When Barry speaks about Comrades, you listen. Not because he demands attention. Because he has earned it. In a world obsessed with novelty, Barry reminds me why tradition matters. Not dead tradition. Living tradition. The kind that breathes through people who have shown up year after year, decade after decade.

Then there is the team.

Alain Dalais, our General Manager, is old school in many good ways. He grew up in Pietermaritzburg. Comrades is ingrained in him. You need that. You need institutional knowledge. You need people who know which corner matters, which relationship can unlock a problem, which risk is real and which is noise. Alain provides balance. And in a complex organisation, balance is not boring. It is essential.

Sue Forge, our Race Director, has been a gift. I am biased, yes, but I think she may be the best Race Director Comrades has ever had. Hard-working. Innovative. Smart. Runner-centric. A team player. Also, importantly, she loves wine. My kind of person.

Sue brings deep event experience and a willingness to challenge how things have always been done. That is crucial. Because respecting history does not mean worshipping inefficiency. If something can be safer, clearer, more professional, more inclusive, more useful to runners, then we must do it. Sue gets that.

This year our social media storytelling has been richer than ever. We have been telling stories from the past and present. The great champions. The ordinary heroes. The heartbreak. The humour. The archival gems. The reasons people run. The reasons people come back. The reasons people stand on the side of the road and shout for strangers. Much of that storytelling, and our broadcast on the Comrades YouTube channel on the day, is driven by Gareth and Jack from T&W. Mark my words — their production will redefine how sport is filmed and stories are told. These men and their team are extraordinary.

The storytelling matters because Comrades has never only been about the front of the race.

Yes, we will watch the elites. We should. They are extraordinary. The tactics, the climbing, the suffering, the attacks, the discipline, the courage. I am in awe of them.

But the soul of Comrades is also in the runner chasing 12 hours. The runner who has trained before work in the dark. The runner who has lost a parent. The runner raising money. The runner who should probably have trained more but is hoping the ancestors and a few potatoes will help. The runner who starts brave and ends broken but still moving. The runner who hears the final gun. The runner who misses it.

Comrades does not lie to you.

There are no shortcuts. No hacks. No filters. No algorithm. No corporate nonsense. You either cover the distance in time or you do not. That is harsh. It is also, I think, beautiful.

I have run Comrades three times. I have also fundraised through Comrades, twice as a top charity fundraiser. Those experiences changed me. Running teaches you about yourself. Fundraising teaches you that your suffering can be useful if you connect it to something beyond yourself.

This year I will not be running. I will be serving. And that feels right for me.

Comrades is the closest thing I know to a South African civic sacrament. That may sound dramatic. I mean it. For one day we watch people of every background, language, race, age, shape, belief and bank balance move in the same direction. We cheer effort. We respect pain. We celebrate resilience. We remember that the person next to us is not an enemy. They are just someone aiming for the finish line.

Comrades was started to remember fallen comrades from a dreadful war. Maybe Comrades could help us stop all wars. I would not be surprised.

Perhaps that is too much to ask of a road race.

But then again, Comrades has always asked too much. That is the point.

Watch with us on Sunday. Put it on YouTube. Share the link. Send it to friends overseas. Tell your children to watch. Tell people who think running is boring to watch the final hour. Tell cynical South Africans to watch the start. Tell anyone who has lost hope in this country to watch strangers helping strangers on the road to Pietermaritzburg.

Because this is us too.

Not only the corruption. Not only the potholes. Not only the noise. Not only the anger.

This too.

The courage. The humour. The generosity. The madness. The discipline. The faith. The people handing out water. The people rubbing legs. The people screaming names they cannot pronounce. The person who says, “You’ve got this,” when you absolutely do not feel that you have got this.

Comrades is not perfect. No human thing is.

But it is precious.

And precious things must be protected.

On Sunday I will stand at the finish line. Mark, Nonthu and Mqondisi will be on the road. Barry will be nearby, carrying 49 medals and a lifetime of memories in his bones. Sue and Alain and the team will be solving problems most people will never see. Volunteers will be giving their day to strangers. Families will be waiting. Runners will be bargaining with their bodies and souls.

And somewhere between Durban and Pietermaritzburg, South Africa will show itself again.

Ska Fela Moya.

Do not lose hope, my fellow South Africans. We’ve got this.