Triumph, tragedy, transformation: it’s a Comrades journey

As the 98th edition of the Comrades Marathon approaches, South Africans are preparing for one of the most iconic ultramarathons in the world. This year’s Down Run is expected to be the largest in the event’s history, with more than 24 000 runners setting off from Pietermaritzburg to Durban’s Kingsmead Stadium, traversing 87 gruelling kilometres of hills, heat, and heart.

The Comrades is more than a test of endurance. For many, it’s a story of resilience, remembrance, and rewriting one’s personal narrative – sometimes in pain, often in triumph.

For Lisa Murinik (49), the race marks a moment forever frozen in time. Nearly 18 years ago, she stood at the finish line, waiting for her husband, Michael Gordon, who had spent the previous year preparing for what was meant to be his ultimate achievement. Instead, Lisa was called to the medical tent, where she learned he had collapsed just after finishing. He was one of two runners to die during the 2007 race.

“He had crossed the finish line. I’d received the message,” she recalls, “But I couldn’t find him. I searched the stadium for more than an hour. Then came the call.”

Michael was a devoted father and determined man. Having grown up in Arcadia Children’s Home, he overcame many obstacles to earn multiple degrees and build a successful life of meaning and purpose. He saw the Comrades as his next personal summit. “He was incredibly disciplined, consulted with sports professionals, and followed every rule in the book. He was ready,” Lisa says.

The last time she saw him was at the halfway mark, changing his socks. She remembers helping him with a blister and handing him photos of their children, Jesse and Lexi, then just three and 10 months old. “I told him, ‘Run home to them.’ And he did. But I never saw him again.”

For weeks, Lisa’s grief unfolded in the glare of public attention. “The media frenzy was overwhelming. I just wanted to disappear and mourn privately, but I couldn’t.” Despite the immense pain, she found strength in her support network – her parents, sisters, friends, and the Johannesburg Jewish community. “Knowing I was held helped me get through those first unbearable years.”

She eventually found love again, married Dean Murinik, and had another son, Daniel.

“Every year, I watch the live broadcast and relive every moment. It’s part of my healing,” Lisa says. “I’ve come a long way since 2007. My relationship with the race has shifted. I still think it’s tough on the body, but I now see the excitement and meaning it holds for so many.”

She says the race has evolved. “Back then, the medical tent was far from the finish. I don’t think Michael had the support he needed in those critical moments. But I know that systems have improved since. That gives me peace.”

Few know the race’s extremes better than Bruce Fordyce, who won the Comrades a record nine times. Each year, he gives runners trademark advice: “Start like a coward, finish like a hero.” The early kilometres, he insists, should feel deceptively easy – filled with conversation, walking breaks, and energy conservation – because what lies ahead will demand everything.

This year’s Down Run, Fordyce warns, isn’t to be underestimated. “People think it’s easier. It’s not. Beyond the flat start, there are brutal climbs, and to finish strong, you’ve got to run smart on the ups. By the time you reach Pinetown, about 70km in, it’s hot, sticky, and bleak. There’s litter on the streets, the air is heavy, and even though you may be surrounded by others, it’s the loneliest part of the race. That’s when you find out what you’re really made of.”

He mentioned the legacy of Dave Levick, the only Jewish winner of the Comrades, who won on the Down Run in 1973. Levick was also the first student Comrades winner. As a student at the University of Cape Town, he was able to put in only six decent weeks of training prior to Comrades, according to @ComradesRace on X. He finished with his personal best, taking the title in what was a new record time of 5:39:09.

For 65-year-old Sue Harrisberg, the Comrades has become a powerful family tradition. She has run it 15 times, and completed international marathons – including New York, London, and Rome – with her children. “Running has bonded us,” she says. “Comrades is like childbirth – it’s painful, but the reward is overwhelming. You forget the pain and return year after year.”

Harrisberg’s most meaningful Comrades came after a medical setback, when she proved to herself that resilience doesn’t fade with age. “This race teaches discipline, patience, and delayed gratification,” she says.

Last year, she ran with her son, Daniel. “We lost each other early on, but seeing him cross the finish line, smiling, with his arms raised, I felt so proud.”

This year, injury will keep her from running. “It’s hard to accept. But I’m grateful I can pass the baton. Daniel inspires me now. I’ll be on the sidelines, knowing what he’s going through and cheering him on.”

Among the newcomers to the 2025 Comrades is 34-year-old Morry Krinsky, who took up running just more than two years ago. “As a kid, I watched the race on TV. My dad ran it six times between 1982 and 1988. This year, he’ll be there supporting me 37 years later.

“Many who have done it say the race is life changing,” Krinsky says. “For me, it’s about personal growth. Running has changed my life, and now Comrades will be part of that journey.”

He’s also embracing the joy in the process. “If you’re not enjoying it, why do it? I’m excited, a little nervous, but ready to go,” he says.

Each of these stories – triumph, tragedy, and personal transformation – reveal the beating heart of the Comrades Marathon. It’s not just a sporting event, but a reflection of life’s full spectrum.