My dad always talked up how he ran the Comrades in canvas tennis shoes and cash in his pocket to pay for cool drinks along the way. He finished in 69th position.
The story convinced my brother to run the Comrades 10 times. Both their ashes were spread on Polly Shorts and they have plagues on the memorial wall. My brother was the fittest guy I knew having also done a dozen Ironmans. He died of a heart attack on a bicycle in the Eucalyptus forests of Dwellingup Australia.
RIP, This was his favourite and appropriate for these two runners as well: