Wuuuu shem! OMTOM is here and your life is likely messier than political campaigns

So your bae or someone you are tight with is running the Old Mutual Two Oceans Marathon on Saturday. It's a particularly historic year, as the race is marking its 50th anniversary, a coup that runners have been gleefully mentioning every time they manage to tear their eyes away from their Strava stalking and mumble a few words.

If you're lucky, you'll be able to decipher between the grunts of some new planta-what-what injury and the groans of stomach cramps ( really just pre-race nerves that you daren't mention because, gasp, you are not an ultra-runner) and conjure up just enough energy to pretend to be sympathetic.

Cause, well, let's be honest, we ain't sympathetic at all. These okes (read irresponsible, selfish and particularly painful partners near race day) have chosen this. Soz. And also soz for you. Because if you're the partner, this is what your life has likely looked like over the past week.

Ghosting

Mystery foot ailment. Sudden calf impediment. Gluteal muscle strain. Ja, ne. If every complaint had to be taken seriously, our medical aid savings would be depleted because of the "totally necessary" check-ups. 

Poop

Like, when did you ever think you'd be discussing poop habits over dinner with a group of people. Well, just hang out with some runners. Totally fun topics include: how to wake up early to poop, what to eat the night before a race so there's no poop emergency, what to do on race day if there is a poop emergency, the fear of poop emergencies. You know, awesome convo. And we be like...

Lugubrious

Gloomy, rejected, mirthless. You guys, the week leading up to OMTOM is not filled with joy. Even the fact that much of the world is celebrating Jesus rising isn't enough to spread hope. The combination of nerves, tired bodies, drained brains (from all those splits sums) and knowing that you're about to run an entire 56km is enough to turn anyone into a deadpan Night King.

Bonanza: This is not the end

As you feel the tseks trotting along your undulating vocal chords, you gotta hold it in. Just like Pastor Lakua "resurrected" Eliot from the dead, all of the above is about to become 10-fold. Cause Comrades. Exciting. 

*Disclaimer: This may or may not have been written about runners I know.