PnP Marathon: an ode to South African drivers

I’m sure anyone who has ever gone out running, whether early in the morning, in the middle of the day or late in the evening, can attest to the lack of courtesy and decency among South African drivers. In fact, if you’ve ever been on a road in South Africa, I’m sure you can agree that South African drivers are by and large a bunch of selfish road hogs who don’t have enough common decency to so much as raise a finger in acknowledgement of their fellow human beings – unless it’s the middle finger, everyone’s pretty good at raising that one. As a runner I’ve been exposed to all manner of assholes on the roads – from the kamikaze grannies who aim their Hundai half loaves at you with sniper like precision to the careless taxi driver more focused on finding his next fare than the reflector-clad, luminous shirt wearing weirdo diving into the bushes as he passes, and every other kind of sadistic vehicular manslaughter-attempting twat in between. But I have never experienced less considerate people than the good people of Edenvale as they headed to and from their respective churches on Sunday morning between 07:00 and 09:00.

Jeppe Quondam Athletics Club is the proud organising club of the Pick ‘n Pay Marathon and Half Marathon and each year, race organiser round up all the club members to assist with various activities on the day and in the build-up to the event. Becs, Hilary and I were assigned to marshal duty and were each allocated an intersection along the route (Jeanine, the lazy bum, faked having to work the weekend to get out of helping). After our 22km on Saturday, which passed without incident worth comment, we donned our reflective vests, took up our flags and headed to our respective intersections. By 07:00 I’d almost been run over 3 times by “Christians” on their way to church, some of whom had proceeded to swear out their windows and rudely gesture in the general direction of the runners in general, and more specifically, me. A few of them were treated to a particularly violent flick of my marshal flag as I attempted to illustrate to them just how close they’d come to forcing me into the next life. By the time we left our posts, having completed our tasks, at about 10:00 both Becs and I had each been the victims of at least 4 separate hit-and-run attempts (and that’s just on a 200m stretch of road, a small fraction of the 21km loop), I had hit at least one car with my marshal flag and shouted some encouragement to “go forth and multiply” to a number of other maniacs.

What the hell is wrong with people that they can’t be considerate of others? Why can’t you a-holes share your road for a few hours a week? And don’t give me any of that “roads were made for cars” bull shit either; a quick look back in history would illustrate that roads (as they were) were originally made for people, and then horses, and then bicycles, and then cars/busses/trucks, etc. You people who aren’t willing to share your precious tarred surfaces for a few hours out of your supposedly Christian lives were obviously really good at sharing your toys when you were younger too. My wish for all of you is erectile disfunction/vaginal apathy (delete as appropriate), I only hope that you will never have to experience the devastation of actually hitting someone or – gods forbid – the horror of losing a family member to an equally idiotic driver.

Rant over. Happy Monday.