Week 11 – The Run

This week has been all about the preparation, not so much the running, ( I did two light runs 4ks and 6ks) but nutrition and hydration.  What to eat, when to eat and how much to drink.  How am I feeling, did I run far enough, have I rested enough.  I’m pretty sure I ran the race three times over on Friday night.  Didn’t sleep much!  I eventually came to the conclusion I had done everything I could, it was now a matter of go and do it.

Standing at the start line this morning I felt confident in making the distance but still had those same feelings I had just prior to jumping out of a plane. “What the hell am I doing here? And how do I get out of it?  But again I had come too far to go back out.  There was only one way to go and that was forwards.

When I said, I was standing on the start line, we were actually in a crowd of 12,000 people, some 200 odd metres behind the line.  As I looked around there were all shapes and sizes, a myriad of colours and a variety of ages, and that was just the gear everyone had.  I estimated there would be about $5M of sporting apparel cross the start line. (That’s just the way my mind works, everything comes down to the numbers).  If you add the thousands of i products that came along for the ride, you could probably double that figure.

It took almost five minutes to cross the start line once the gun had gone off.  The first 2 or 3 ks was shoulder to shoulder, jostling for a bit of clear space ahead of you.  The pace was quite slow through all this, which actually worked out well as most of it was uphill.  At this stage it was a bit of an obstacle course, not only did you need to focus on the runners all around but the traffic islands and speed bumps, even the reflectors in the road were a trap for ankles.  Worst of all though was the water stations, not only did you have to negotiate the people weaving in and out, but the carpet of disposable cups for 100mtrs after each station

At this point the enormity of the crowd became obvious.  There were bodies the entire width of the road as far as the eye could see.  I thought I managed to pass a lot of people, but it was still much the same two hours later.  I felt a little insignificant as I looked around the other runners.  I never had any writing on my shirt!  I wasn’t a member of a club, sponsored by anyone, running for a cause, not even “doing it for the kids”.  I was just all about me.

I felt pretty good through the first half of the event, out St Kilda Rd and heading around Albert Park Lake, but it was still pleasing to come round the far end of the lake and go through the 10k marker, now you were heading for home.  It was a bit difficult to take in the scenery around the lake, pit lane or various stadiums you just had to focus on the job in front of you.

Turning back onto St Kilda Rd, about 14ks down, you knew you were into the final stages.  The crowds had built up around this area and were cheering and clapping.  I wondered of it was just that moment that they saw someone they knew, or were they prepared to do that for two hours.

About 15ks the legs started to go a bit rubbery.  Another magic energy gel at this point would hopefully get me home.  At about this point they sent us on some detour, under the arts centre and around the domain.  I didn’t think that was the shortest way to the finish.  Eventually back over Princess Bridge and down through Birrung Marr.  Now for the one I had been fearing for weeks.  William Barrack Bridge, a nasty long climb up and over our starting point, not a great thing this close to the finish.

With less than one km to go I had one eye on the clock and the other looking for the finish line.  I still had a little bit left so was able to make a bit of a surge to the finish.  Still feeling pretty good, but the elation of crossing the line took out anything I might have left in the legs.  It was a wobbly walk until my personal crowd gave me a big cheer about 50mtrs after the finish line.  The satisfaction of collecting my “participation medal” was almost matched by getting a water and a banana.

Six months ago I had to nominate an expected finish time and suggested two hours, not knowing whether I could even run the distance let alone make any time.  Today I had completed the 21.1km in 1:59:34, just under my goal.  (For those into the stats, that’s 5:33 per km or 10.6kph).  For the record I was 2859^th Male and 280^th in my category.

I’m not exactly sure now why I set this to be the major challenge of my last days as a forty something, but I was ecstatic with the day’s events, even thrilled with the way I had run.  No injuries, nothing ached, no lasting ill effects.  This was the perfect run in beautiful conditions and will certainly be an achievement I’ll dine out on for a long time.

By the way, the two people that inspired all this running two years ago also did the half with me yesterday.  Both achieved great times of 1:43 and 2:34.  Sill being inspirational, but curse them anyway.

Now, late on Sunday I think I’ve pulled up pretty well, a bit stiff but nothing too painful.  I may still be running on an emotional high that might come crashing down in the next couple of days.

 

I have been asked several times already, What’s next?

Come back next year and do the full?            Nah, been there (1/2) done that.

Jump on the bike and hit the road?                Mmmm Maybe

There’s always a Triathlon.                             Yeah, but I have to leave something for my 60^th.

 

For now it will be a week of quiet celebration (part 12 of 18) for my birthday then on off on a holiday next week.  Hopefully that is just a slow walk on the beach, definitely NO RUNNING.

Thanks to everyone that followed me to the finish line.

Week 10 – The End

I maybe on the road to a half marathon, but we are also half way through a marathon celebration of our 50th birthdays.  It all started in early September and will continue in various styles until the 9th of November.  Saturday night was the peak of those celebrations with a “family dinner” that bought both our families together.  While it was great to spend time with the ones you love there is always the shadow of an upcoming 21km run over everything you do.

I had to change the route of my run this week to get the right distance.  I ran past my old high school, my old footy ground and my childhood home.  It felt like a cross between a lap of honour and a funeral cortèg

My last major training run of this campaign yesterday, and in the interest of tapering, was only 12ks. Just 28kms for the week.  Every run I do is still hard work, it certainly hasn’t got easy, but I do feel better, even over longer distances.  A couple of short runs this week, maybe a 4k and an 8k, will see the training over and lead me to the start of the event.  I am confident about going the distance, it’s just a matter of how long it takes, and what condition I’m in at the finish.

I’ve been driving to work, Terang to Camperdown, 23ks, for more than 30 years.  It has only been this week that I’ve realised I would actually be able to run the distance.  I’d have to leave two hours earlier and wouldn’t get much done once I got there, but I could get there.

As many of you would know I’m a numbers man at heart so here’s some for the fans.  In the past four months I’ve run over 450km. That’s Melbourne and back.  Although all this started out as a weight loss exercise I’ve actually put on more the 5kgs.  There’s been one rule I’ve had in the back of my head all this time, When the running stops so does the eating!  Six meals a days can’t continue when I go back to just sitting behind a desk.  This week though, I’m supposed to increase my carb intake even further.  I’m not sure how I’m going to fit it in, but I’ll keep trying.

For a guy who’s never been big on writing I’ve actually enjoyed doing this blog.  It has acted as a distraction while I’ve been running.  Thinking about what happened for the week and how the story goes, has taken away from the pain.

So, if you hear from me next week, you know I’ve made it!

 

See you all at the finish.

 

5 days to go.

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.

Week 6 – The Idea

I have not explained to this point why I would set myself the ridiculous challenge of running a half marathon after such a disastrous attempt at a 5.9km fun run.  After my second effort at the Terang Noorat fun run, which was much more successful than the first, I began to wonder what’s next.  I had trained longer and smarter this time around and my legs were operating like they should.  I could do a 5k run two or three times a week and walk away with no ill effects.  Still inspired by the two people who started all this, (curse them anyway), I was actually enjoying running and didn’t want that hard work to be just lost.

I had jokingly challenged another running friend to a 10k event, and this would have been an easier option, but the easy option wouldn’t provide the challenge I was looking for.  I felt like I could run 10k anytime and I needed this to be six months build up.

The Melbourne Marathon bought together a number of things that were important in what I was looking for.  The first was that the distance was a huge challenge.  Something I could not have contemplated twelve months ago, and even now I not so sure about it.  The second was that it traditionally finishes inside the MCG, one of my favourite places to be.  The idea of completing this personal challenge on the hallowed turf in front of a massive? crowd was far too appealing.  The third and perhaps most importantly, was that the event happens to be just days before my 50th birthday.

I’ve never been one to stress about the meaning of a significant birthday, and generally see them as the beginning of something new, rather than the end.  I’ve greeted both 30 and 40 and viewed them as a chance to set some new goals and reset the focus.  We’ve also celebrated them by doing something BIG

I’m looking forward to 50 and am excited by what the next few years promise.  We are part time empty nesters and are already enjoying some of the freedoms that presents.  After years of “doing it for the kids” I see fifty as the chance to enjoy some personal time.

After last weeks altercation with the IKEA furniture our lounge room again resembled a recovery unit. I was icing each night in order to reduce the swelling and bring out the bruising. It wasn’t until Thursday that I was able to consider running.  A short slow session on the treadmill, fairly flat footed, not much work on the toes. 

You don’t really appreciate how important your toes are in the scheme of things, and how often they actually get used. One week on and the cut on my big toe is still weeping and my second toe (it took the full force of the impact) is still tender to touch.  I’m reluctant to admit it may be broken.

I did manage a 12 k run on Saturday morning..  While the toes were still a bit sore, it wasn’t painful.  I’ve put up with a lot worse.  20 ks for the week

I didn’t see too many out on Saturday morning, although the fog was that thick I probably wouldn’t have seen them anyway.  By the time I got home I was as wet as I would have been if it was raining.

5 weeks to go now, and the challenge for this week is to keep both feet intact. This will be important, as I need to start really increasing the weekly ks

33 days to go.