Sanlam Cape Town Marathon is a World Major now. It belongs with Boston, London, New York.
It’s about time.
Sixteen-year-old me ran her first 10k in Harare, Zimbabwe. Back then? I couldn’t picture myself on the start lines of these giants. I didn’t imagine standing among them decades later. I think about African women like me. We spent so long looking overseas to find our reflection. To see ourselves in the global mirror.
I am a child of Zimbabwe. My blood runs with Botswana, South Africa, and Nigeria too. I bounced between those places while growing up. My family tree is scattered across SA. I married a Nigerian man in Johannesburg. This specific chaos? It built who I am. It built how I run.
As a coach. As an African woman. I know what visibility looks like when it finally hits. Making Cape Town a major isn’t just a label. It is a spotlight. And for African running, it is seismic.
Say this is personal. It is an understatement.
I can’t recall a moment without movement. Egg-and-spoon races? Primary school staple. Official races? Always part of the mix. Middle school in Zimbabwe and SA meant sprints. 100m. 200m.
I lived for that wind. The feeling of being a gazelle. Clearing hurdles while our team chants echoed. I loved the energy. The camaraderie. I captained my house team. I set records. But it wasn’t just speed. It was community.
College in the US changed the pace. I discovered distance running later. In 2012 I ran Boston. I was a new mother then. Healing from postpartum life while hitting 26.2 miles. I did Boston twice. Chicago once.
And in 2025? The Access Bank Lagos City Marathon.
Finally. Distance on African soil.
I run with my son now. 5k races in the US. Dot Day. BAA. Watching him see his mother endure? It matters. He learns what is possible. Kids learn from what they see. Adults too.
Today I coach. VCPM Inc supports me. I’m an ambassador for Lagos Women Run. The biggest women’s race in Sub-Saharan Africa. Over 8,000 souls join in. I also started Hambai Movement. Wellness for African women and the diaspora. Movement as medicine. Community as cure.
Anyone who has hit a Major knows it isn’t about the clock.
Running is freedom. Meditation with sneakers. It gives me agency over this body. It anchors my mental health during the dark seasons. But it’s also service. I run for others. My first marathon was for Mother Caroline Academy. Boston’s tuition-free girls school. I raised funds there.
My husband and I trained together. That shared grit? It deepened our bond. Those races changed us.
Cities change too.
Strangers become crowds. Cheering. Arms open to runners from everywhere. Recently I was in London. With my husband Olumide. He’s my running partner of 16+ years. We didn’t run the marathon. We joined thousands cheering for teammates from Black Girls Run Boston. From Black Unicorn Marathoners.
We laced up for the Friday Night Lights 5k in Battersea Park instead. Running there? I bumped into other Southern Africans. We stopped. Took a photo. Flags held high.
Thousands of miles from home. Feeling at home because of it. Running does that. It brings people back to each other.
Watching London ignite over the race. Sebastian Sawe winning. Breaking two hours. Making history.
I wondered. What would it feel like? An African city getting that same global roar.
Cape Town is about to find out.
Why does it matter this much?
Because Majors tell stories. They decide who belongs.
Africa has always been the heart of distance. Tegla Loroupe. Hellen Obiri. They redefined the limits. Yet for so many of us the dream meant crossing oceans.
Cape Town breaks that rule.
My athletes are training for their first 5k or 10k. Some never saw themselves as runners. Now? Girls across Africa can look locally. See elite champs. But also see themselves.
The message is loud. You belong here. History can happen on African dirt. Visibility shifts trajectories. It changed mine.
African women lack nothing. Not talent. Not courage. Determination is endless.
We lacked infrastructure. Investment. Visibility. Cape Town getting this status acknowledges that. The continent gave the sport everything. It deserves to host the biggest event.
This could trigger real change.
But joy has layers. Complexity lives here too.
I am Zimbabwean American. South African roots. Nigerian husband. Pan-Africanism is my reality. Migration and movement? They are part of the African story always. Sport is diplomacy at its best. It builds bridges. It shows us our humanity.
Yet access remains tricky. Visas. Cost. Borders.
For Cape Town to truly be Africa’s Major, it must be open. Easy for runners from across the continent. Travel. Compete. Feel that transformative power. If not, it’s just a race.
I want openness. Connection. Investment.
In Lagos this year. The World Athletics Africa Running Conference. The energy was undeniable. Africa is ready. We can build world-class races. We can strengthen culture. We can build health through movement.
Cape Town isn’t the finish line. It is the starting pistol.
For generations we traveled abroad to chase history. Now?
History arrived.
