You’ve probably seen the footage on television. An anguished Tommy Malone stumbling and falling just metres from the line, while Manie Kuhn puts in a desperate sprint to catch him. Malone drags himself to his feet, only to collapse again with cramp, as Kuhn lunges past to claim the prize that has eluded him twice before. The 1967 Comrades Marathon provided the closest finish in the history of the race, with just 30cm separating the first two runners.
”The race was on a Saturday that year, so running into Durban through the crowds was quite hectic,” remembers 69-year-old Kuhn. ”I could see the crowd parting in front so I knew Tommy was just in front of me. When I neared Greyville racecourse he was out of sight, but as I entered the gate I saw him about 100m ahead.”
Malone didn’t know Kuhn was so close, and thought that he’d won the race comfortably for the second time. ”As I came through the gate Tommy heard the crowd roar and looked around, and that’s when he tumbled. He got up for the first time and I just closed my eyes and thought ‘Hell, I’ve been second twice — I must try to win!”’
Kuhn sprinted for the line, and passed Malone as the 1966 winner collapsed a second time.
Until then, there had been no tape marking the end of the 90km race, but one of the officials saw how close the result was going to be and hurriedly erected one. Kuhn got there first, by less than an arm’s length, in a time of 5 hours 54 minutes.
In those days the Comrades Marathon was strictly an amateur event, and for his trouble Kuhn was awarded a gold medal and a gold clock. ”Well, the clock was
supposed to be gold, but before long it tarnished very badly. The plating must have been sprayed on very thin!”
So how does the man who carried on working for the railways for 24 years after winning the toughest race in the world feel about the money paid to the winners today?
”I never supported the idea of people racing for money — to me it was a sport. I was furious the other night when I heard [Dimitri] Grishine complaining about the prize money. We ran for fun, and we trained for the satisfaction of it. I’m happy with the way I did it. Already we’ve seen the results of bringing money into the Comrades, with the cheating that’s crept in.”
What about training in those days? Was there much science involved? ”These guys today are so technical. They take pulse rates and everything into account but we never worried about those things. We used to eat steak before we ran, which didn’t help because it took so long to digest.
”Training runs were also very different. I’d run to work every morning — about 20km — and then go for a run in my lunch break. Then I’d run home in the evenings. I’d run up to 320km in a week, and rely on service stations for water. On weekends I’d do an 80km training run, and there weren’t many service stations between my house and Cato Ridge.”
Kuhn, who was a keen rugby player and once represented South West Africa, trained hard but was never a health nut. He smoked until the age of 25, a year before his first Comrades, and was also known to enjoy the occasional spot.
”I used to drink whisky and milk. After one Comrades I overheard a mother telling her daughter to look at that man, who had just come second, drinking his milk. Little did she know.”
Kuhn competed in the London to Brighton race three times, but never managed to win it. ”The first time they gave me two kids on bicycles to second me, and half way through they stopped for a rest. I ended up fifth.”
For his second attempt he recruited Comrades great Dave Bagshaw to
second him, but officials threatened to disqualify the South African because Bagshaw was riding a bicycle alongside him.
”I could see the English winner, Bernard Gomersall, just ahead, accompanied by a motorcycle and a car!” Kuhn finished second. On his third attempt, in 1967, he was leading the race when he tripped and ran into a lamp-post. ”I broke my collarbone, and that was that.”
Now a pensioner, Kuhn still loves a scrap, and doesn’t always win. A couple of years ago two men attempted to hijack him at gunpoint. ”I always said that in that situation I’d give them whatever they wanted, but the Dutchman in me got the moer in and I took a swipe at the one with the gun. He said he was going to shoot me and I said ‘shoot’. Then he pulled the trigger.”
Kuhn retired from that fray with a bullet through the abdomen, but has now fully recovered.