Week 9 – The Descent

The thought of doing a half marathon had come from events from years ago.  The tradition of celebrating a significant birthday with a major achievement had been created 10 years ago.  The second event that was a significant part of our 40th birthday celebrations was a group event.  A core group of high school mates that had remained thick throughout the preceding 20 odd years.

All of us and our spouses turned 40 over the space of two years.  We had decided that while this wasn’t to be be the end of life as we know it, we needed to acknowledge our 40th with one final physical achievement.

The whole exercise thing was softened by the addition of a child free weekend in Halls Gap.  While we are a group that doesn’t spend a lot of time together, we have remained in regular contact.  Anytime we had got together it was as if nothing had changed. Same friendships, same banter, same reminiscing, even same jokes.  It was great to be able to spend some quality time with great friends, some of whom I had known for all of 35 years.

The feature of the weekend was to be a challenge that would test all of us old folk, physically and mentally.  Absailing!  Many of the group weren’t exactly adventurous, even in our youth, so the idea of going over the edge of cliff was absolutely terrifying.  Right up to this moment there were still a few that were undecided if they would participate.

We had met up with our guide and trekked  into some remote part of the grampians, got the gear set up and received instructions about what was required.  It was decided that I would be first, as I was the only one that had done it before.  This didn’t really help as the previous time had been more than twenty years earlier.  Back then I had a different body and a different mindset.

As with the skydiving earlier, there is a time between, receiving the safety talk and putting on the uncomfortable harness, and actually doing the deed, that you get the time to think, “What am I doing here?”  Standing on the edge of the cliff looking down at the rocks below, 40 odd metres below, the most difficult thing is the first couple of steps.  The mental challenge to move from vertical to horizontal and put your full faith in the equipment and the guy holding the rope is no insignificant feat.  Gradually you move from having the weight on your feet to having the weight on the ropes and your feet only there to keep you from hitting the cliff face.  Gravity starts kicking in and you bounce you way down the cliff.  By the time you’ve got to the lower edge you have the confidence to push off the cliff face and take bigger steps, until eventually one giant leap sees you landing feet first on the ground.

Those still up top had now had time to think about who would come next.  Was it better to go earlier and not think about it any more or wait until later and build up the confidence to tackle the challenge.  One by one they each came to their own decisions and a random pattern of people came over the edge.  Some of them taking it on simply as another adventure and some as huge achievement overcoming their fears.  Everyone of the group, even those those that had never done anything like this before, made their way down the face of that enormous challenge and revelled in the achievement.  Some of them even surprised themselves as to how much they enjoyed it.  Everyone of us went back and did it a second time.

There has been many an evening, over plenty of reds, that we have recalled the torment and bravery that occurred that day.  I still greatly respect and admire everyone of that group.

Once again I found myself in Melbourne this weekend.  (Legacy of having friends that barrack for Sydney  Two of those that went over the cliff I mentioned earlier.). My run actually started at the MCG amongst the marquees, BBQs and early comers to the grand final.  I followed the first few ks of the marathon course, a bit of a climb towards the city and round Fed Sq, then along the Yarra, a lap of the Tan, and back to the ‘G. All very iconic and scenic.  I went the Yarra trail as I was reasonably sure the course would be flat.

There were hundreds of runners out yesterday .  Maybe it was the grand final, or that the sun was out, but I suspect it was the fact there is a major run in two weeks.  The runners were scattered between the footy fans, rowers, boot campers and a constant stream of cyclists.  So many runners gives you confidence you’re not the only crazy one out there.

15ks yesterday.  There seems to be a new comfort point at 14ks.  It used be 12ks, but I can now do 14 before the monkey jumps on.  31ks for the week.

Running longer distances gives you plenty of time to think about things.  A couple of conclusions I came to yesterday, I’m sure they’re not just in my head:

A lot of runners around makes it easier to keep your form and hold your pace.  They may not even be going your direction, but it still makes it easier

Everything is more interesting when there is more to look at.  No offensive to Ben Kenna’s dairy, but time, and therefor distance, passes a lot quicker when the scenery is more attractive

Running 18ks last week makes 15ks seem easier. 

I can’t be completely mad, I don’t do boot camp.  I’d rather run 20kms uphill than do some of the things  I saw yesterday.

With two weeks to go I now have to start tapering towards the half marathon event.  After months of trying to increase my distances, this will be a new challenge of its own.

12 days to go.

Week 8 – The Jump

Doing a half marathon is part of the celebration and an attempt to do something big before my upcoming 50th birthday.  I had done much the same thing prior to turning 40, with two major challenges.

The first significant event was a culmination of something I had been thinking about for many years, but hadn’t been planning to do at that time.  My wife and I had arranged a holiday on a tropical  island in Queensland.  As we got to the beach waiting to cross to the island the idea of how to celebrate being forty literally landed in front of me.

The next day I’m on a bus with a bunch of social misfits heading to the airport.  These are the guys that I would be trusting with my life.  They shared a series of jokes trying to suck me in and stress me out.  They would be taking me to 10,000 ft and jumping out of a plane.  This had been something I had want to do for a long time but had never been able to justify it.

We started with a safety briefing, but they still can’t be serious.  Dressed in a one size fits all jumpsuit and an uncomfortable harness,  the actual preparation doesn’t take very long as they cover the basics of what’s going to happen, then it’s off to meet the pilot, Animal.  Didn’t instil you with confidence.

Bundled into the back of a small two seater plane we rattle off down the runway and struggle to take to the air by the end of it.  A few minutes later I remarked about how high we were and what you could still see.  They laughed again and told me that was only 2000ft.  It took quite a bit longer, but eventually I noticed things getting serious as they were starting to tighten their straps and change positions.

At this point I started to wonder what the hell I was doing there and how could I have been so stupid.  The pilot then yells out something about drop zone and ready to go.  It was too late for a change of mind.  The side door of the plane slid open and the whole world was exposed.  Despite the extensive safety training we received on the ground self preservation took control.  Sitting on the edge of the plane, two legs dangling into the abyss, arms trying to grab hold of anything that might be secure enough to keep me in that plane.

The call came from right behind me.  “Hand across your chest.”  Oh yeah, now I remember the drill and why we’re here.  “It’s time to go.”  One big shove and we are out there flying.  The first thing you notice is the hundred mile an hour wind in your face and the vision of clouds screaming toward you.  As you hit the cloud it’s like running through a hail storm.  Breaking through the clouds the view of the island from about 8000ft was absolutely amazing and you really get the sensation of falling.

Within seconds my mate had pulled the rip cord and the chute opening was like pulling on the hand brake.  For the first time in about 30 seconds I could feel myself breathing.  For the next five minutes or so we floated gently over the island and could gradually make out more and more detail.  Eventually we made for the beach we due to land on and the spec that was my wife waiting   nervously for my return.

A perfect three point landing in the sand and a combination of relief and elation.  Absolutely the greatest thrill I’ve ever experienced and I would have gone straight back and done it again.  I had a smile on my face for the rest of the day, although that could have been because the muscles  hadn’t recovered from the wind in my face.

The highlight of this week is that nothing of any great significance had happened.  No incident or accident, no strange trips down unfamiliar back tracks.   Having said that, I actually went to the doctor this week.  Given my medical history and my past running injuries, I thought it best I get a second opinion on my current fitness.  Unfortunately he said everything was normal and gave me no reason to stop.

I ran this morning on the usual track to Noorat and it was nice to be back on relatively flat ground.  As the big event approaches I’m seeing more runners out there clocking up the ks.  I hope to see them on the road to the ‘g.

18kms today.  The longest run I’ve done and significantly longer than anything over the past few weeks.  I’m relatively injury free (nothing that effects my running anyway), but as with the longer runs I’ve done in the past, the last 2 or 3 ks were a bit of a plod.  I’m still using the energy gels and they do give you a bit of a kick for a few ks, but they’re no magic potion.  I’m reasonably confident I’ll be able to go the distance from here, but it may not be pretty.  I managed three good sessions during the week and have really started to ramp things up.  36kms for the week.

19 Days to go.