MY COMRADES STORY BY ADAM ELI BERNHARDT

“One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.” – Sigmund Freud

In retrospect, I have always been a runner.

Unfortunately, for much of my life, running was not the act of insane grit and cosmic ecstasy we all gather for at a prestigious, proudly South African event like the Comrades Marathon. Battling with attaining a sense of self-worth; being too sensitive for a beautiful, but often brutal world; and being under siege by mental health issues as a grim little cherry on top - from a young age, I quickly became adept at escapism.

Soon, I was an elite player in the non-competitive category of running away from life’s problems.

As it frequently manifests, addiction was symptomatic of my inability to cope and so, from my early teens to my mid-twenties, I pillaged body and mind with alcohol and drugs, praying to escape or to be taken away – anything to assuage the unending pain of this existence.

As a writer, I believe wholeheartedly that art, like life, cannot flourish without connection. It’s precisely this belief that kept me going in my darkest times and which ultimately led me to relook at running.

I lived in Cambodia for several years, and while I had done hard drugs in South Africa that kept me in skeletal condition for a chunk of time, I was drinking more than anything else during my stay in Southeast Asia. That was all fine and dandy until suddenly, I developed the dreaded beer boep.

I can’t lie – my initial motivation to run was aesthetic. I had always had a good build and although I was never sporty, I had been fairly active throughout my life. I was affronted by my loss of definition; it was this physical decline that made me realize that my lifestyle and the kind of running I had been doing were ironically catching up with me.

So, I started running in Cambodia.

A few 5kms with a former professional boxer from South Africa and then my first 10km at a yoga retreat in the heart of the holy temple lands, Angkor Wat.

Soon after, I relapsed, my girlfriend of six years and I broke up, and I moved back into my parents’ home after nearly ten years with my tail between my legs. That was on the 1st of July 2021 – since then, I have been on my journey of running towards the light and have not returned to alcohol or hard drugs.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the overwhelming support I’ve received, with my family forever in my corner. Another beautiful parallel between running and connection is the friends you meet along the way – sometimes, quite literally, on the roads, in the mountains, or wherever else our feet can fling us.

To Luke and Johan, my main training partners, let’s keep hurdling the dirt like the earthworms we are. I love you both.

The growth that takes place as you put one foot in front of the other, keeping breath consistent and maintaining pace, is immeasurable and invaluable.

This is what has taught me how to run towards my problems, not away from them.

My first-ever official running event was a 46km trail race in 2022 (the event organisers made a mistake and boosted my half-marathon entry to the 46km one): 9+ hours later, and I learned exactly what humility really is.

I’ve since gone on to run several half and full marathons, with this April’s Two Oceans Ultra in my sights as the final warm-up to what will be the BIGGEST, BADDEST, LONGEST marathon I’ll have ever run.

And who knew I’d enjoy the taste of humble pie so much, but just like anyone running the Comrades 2025 with me this year, apparently, we can’t get enough!