For many South African runners, marathons have quietly evolved into more than just tests of physical endurance. Behind the medals and personal bests, there’s a growing subculture where long-distance runs double as opportunities for secretive escapades, sexual adventures, and momentary freedom from the routine of daily life.
“I don’t even run to win,” laughs a Johannesburg-based runner who’s been participating in the Two Oceans and Soweto Marathons for the past five years. “It’s about the vibes, the freedom… and yes, the fun that happens after the race.”
South Africa’s premier races like the Comrades Marathon, Two Oceans, Soweto Marathon, and Cape Town Marathonare bucket-list events for runners from across the country. But according to several participants, there’s another drawcard—one not often advertised on the official marathon websites.
“I know people who register for the Comrades just for the Durban weekend,” says a 35-year-old from Pretoria. “It’s not really about the 90km. It’s about being away from your partner, with your running crew, partying at the beachfront hotels, and hooking up.”
The Two Oceans—dubbed “the world’s most beautiful marathon”—is just as infamous for its post-race parties as it is for its Chapman’s Peak views. Cape Town’s nightlife, coupled with the sense of accomplishment after the race, creates an electric atmosphere where inhibitions are often shed with the sweaty race gear.
“It’s like a hall pass,” confesses a runner from Bloemfontein. “I know married people—men and women—who plan ‘extracurricular activities’ around these races. We joke in the running club that what happens in Cape Town stays in Cape Town.”
Local running clubs have become breeding grounds for tight-knit friendships, shared routines, and secret relationships. What starts off as early morning jogs and WhatsApp group chats often evolves into flirtation, emotional bonding, and eventual physical connections.
“Training together builds intimacy,” explains a Durban-based woman in her 40s. “When you’re waking up at 5am together, pushing each other through the pain, and then traveling together for races—it creates a bond. And sometimes, it crosses lines.”
While some see these escapades as cheating, others describe them as a form of personal liberation.
“I’m not proud of it,” admits a married Cape Town runner, “but those weekends give me something to look forward to. My marriage is routine. The races bring excitement. I know I’m not the only one.”
Still, for every runner living their best double life, there’s a partner left behind—often unaware or silently suspicious. Some express heartbreak, others resignation.
“I started noticing my wife was more excited about her Soweto Marathon trips than the actual race,” says a husband from Polokwane. “Eventually, I found messages. She wasn’t alone at the hotel. I was devastated.
This isn’t an isolated phenomenon. It reflects something deeper in modern South African relationships—the craving for thrill, escape, and validation in a fast-paced, performance-driven society.
Marathons, once symbolic of discipline and personal achievement, have become temporary playgrounds for emotional and physical release.
Whether it’s sex tourism in disguise or simply runners reclaiming joy in unconventional ways, one thing is clear: South Africa’s iconic marathons are no longer just about the finish line.
Would you like me to include more direct anonymous testimonials or explore how hotels, race organizers, or local nightlife spots see this trend?
