Call them the Iceman and Maverick of Rhodes athletics. Without the tight jeans and bleached hair that so nearly ruined Top Gun, that is. Michael Cannon and Warrick Smith may be a study in disparity, with their contrasting approaches to the sport.
Call them the Iceman and Maverick of Rhodes athletics. Without the tight jeans and bleached hair that so nearly ruined Top Gun, that is. Michael Cannon and Warrick Smith may be a study in disparity, with their contrasting approaches to the sport.
But this year they’ve been swapping and obliterating club records with an impunity that even Tom Cruise’s brash fighter-pilot character from the 1986 film would approve of. He lacks a cool nickname like Viper or Wolfman, but when your surname is Cannon a tough-guy tagline is hardly necessary. Mike took up running at 13, “initially to get fit for rugby,” he recalls, “but I realised I wasn’t too bad at it and started entering races.”
He attributes his passion for the sport to a love of the outdoors and, as he puts it, “relying on nothing but my running shoes and my legs.”
However, as any endurance fundi can tell from the speedster’s muscley build and wide shoulders, Cannon is not just a runner.
“I don’t specifically train for running,” he explains, “I’m really training for triathlons and duathlons – running is just one of my three disciplines.”
His typical week includes five or six runs totalling 60km to 70km; a similar number of outings on the bike summing to 250km; and three workouts in the pool. The clue to Smith’s contrasting philosophy is in his nickname: Swarly.
“It comes from an episode of ‘How I met your mother,’ but I have no idea why,” says the lanky-limbed Smith. “Okes just started calling me Swarly”.
Hardly the stuff of a 1980s air-force action flick, but it works for the laid-back racer from Durban. Smith’s training regimen is as casual as his moniker suggests: “Usually five to six training runs per week at varying distances,” he explains.
Simple as that. But don’t mistake casual for disinterested. “I’m seriously competitive,” he goes on, “and I thrive on pushing myself to win. It’s an amazing feeling to work hard at something and get the results you want.”
Unlike his nemesis (and as his sapling frame suggests), Smith is a specialist distance runner, insisting he “can’t even spell the word ‘gym’”.
The pair’s uncoordinated assault on the record book was predicted by their duel in the Two Oceans half-marathon in Cape Town, at Easter.
Cannon must have shadowed Smith for most of the way, easing up on his shoulder for the final stretch. But it was Smith who conjured up the grit to pip his challenger to the post by seven seconds, in a time of 1:19:04. And the game was on.
In mid-April Smith cleaved 27s off his own Rhodes 10km record which he established in 2006. Days later, Cannon returned moral fire with a flabbergasting performance that deleted more than five minutes off the university’s Olympic-distance duathlon record. Call it all square at this stage.
But it was Smith who drew blood next at the first club time-trial of May, when he hurtled to a 43s improvement on the mark set by Cannon last year.
Smith’s circumspect analysis: “I suppose taking back the 8km record was a massive win for me.” Weeks later, and fresh off selection for the EP duathlon team, Cannon positively sizzled around the challenging 4km time-trial circuit (which loops within the university grounds) to retrieve the record held by Smith since 2007.
Again, there was nothing marginal about it – he tore 27s off the prior mark. Perhaps most impressive, however, is the mutual respect these sporting combatants maintain.
Smith calls Cannon “one of those athletes who can decide to take something up and, with a bit of work, be good at it. His work ethic is really admirable and, I have to admit, it makes me jealous.”
In what any athlete would understand as a sizeable compliment, Cannon calls Smith “the most competitive person in the world”, explaining that “if he sets his mind to something, he won’t stop until he achieves it”.
And as with all great rivalries, there's’ some good banter, too. Pushed on which of these low-flyers would win in hand-to-hand combat, for once the competitors are in unison. “Mike would kill me,” asserts Smith, “have you seen the size of me?”
And Cannon can only agree: “Definitely me. Have you seen how skinny Warrick is?” On whether Cannon’s piercing eyes or Smith’s classical jawline make for a more handsome ensemble, again the two are aligned.
“I’m definitely better looking,” declares Smith, “Have you seen how much ‘game’ I have?” While Cannon confirms, “Definitely Warrick. Have you seen his charm?”
In the end, it seems the road warriors of Rhodes aren’t so different after all. But with Cannon building for duathlon world champs in less than a month and Smith injury-free, we may be in for some dog fights yet. Perhaps the road-running version of Iceman and Maverick’s final duel… minus the cheesy music.
