Blame it on 2016 why don't ya.

If you believe everything you read then you’ll have no choice but agree that 2016 was without doubt the worst year in the history of ever!!! A lot of well-known musicians died last year – Prince, George Michael, Leonard Cohen, David Bowie and the list goes on…….

The hysteria on social media gathered momentum. 2016 was cursed and as we approached its end people were wishing away the year away and praying that nothing else would go wrong. As long as we could get through to 2017 everything would be ok right??

Everyone knows that friend or colleague who, by Monday lunchtime, groans ‘Is it Friday yet?’ Wishing away a day, a week or a year because things aren’t quite right doesn’t allow us to see the sunshine that exists on even the darkest days.

As a runner I would never finish an event with the ‘wish away’ attitude. Three events in 2016 were more challenging in various ways than any others I’ve completed prior to the cursed year.

Coburg 6 Hour – My motivation for this event was Will Murray. Right at the start of the cursed 2016, Will went from being an elite junior sportsman to a wheelchair in the blink of an eye. My goal was 64km. People pledged amounts of money for every km I could do over 60km. If I got to 64 it would mean approx. $4000.00 to Will to aid his new life.

 

I told no one but 10 days out from the event I felt pain in my left knee. The same pain and the same knee that had kept me out for months in 2015. I felt a pressure on the start line like no other event. The fundraising campaign had been loud. Everyone knew the aim…..what happens if I fail….could I blame 2016???

At the end of the first hour I was on track, same at the end of the second but there was absolutely no buffer. I had to keep this pace for another four hours and hope nothing went wrong. Three hours in I felt cramp coming on. The knee was under control but I could sense it and was wondering when it was going to end this thing. Was it all going to fall apart?? Four hours in and still on track, my crew was keeping my fed, hydrated, focussed and motivated. With an hour to go I felt like I was going to get there but there was still work to be done. With 80 seconds remaining in the 6 hour event I went through the gantry one more time and in so doing clocked up 64km. The event ended just 200m later for me surrounded by crew and family.

If the pain or the doubt won out at least I could have blamed 2016 right??

Second big event was my first ever attempt at 100km. Ned Kelly Chase in Wangaratta. Again with my amazing crew, Darren Mooney, Nikki Wynd and Kev Mannix I had no choice but to get this thing done. Along the way we would chat non-stop, laugh constantly and even sing Summer Lovin’ real loud as we ran in the middle of nowhere at four in the morning.

This one wasn’t a fundraiser, it was just for fun and really something I had to do otherwise Nikki would never let up on how soft I am J.

Three moments stood out in this event. Less than 15km in I remember thinking there is just no way around this, it’s just going to take a really long time. May as well saviour each moment. My goal was to be mentally strong at the end regardless of how long it took.        (10 hours 21 min to be exact)

30km in and my old friend the left knee started up again. I teach Maths so I can tell ya there was still 70km to go, that’s pretty far. My realisation here was that no matter how much I might want this, maybe it just wouldn’t be possible today. Will Murray, crosses my mind often at times like this. So I keep pushing on because I can. Will keeps fighting every day because he has to. He has to fight mentally and physically to make even the slightest improvement. He inspires me every day.

2km to go and my whole crew joins in to run me to the finish. When I cross the line I hug each of them long time. Tears in my eyes I know I haven’t done anything to change the world, it’s just been a good day even though there was a lot of pain involved.

 

Two weeks later, my third major event for the year was the Upstream 50km challenge. This time as a fundraiser and this time as a team or as pair with Jackie in her first ever ultra.

Soooo about 2km in I could feel the knee already. It must be 2016’s fault right? It actually wasn’t. Can you believe? My knee problem today was all my fault. Way too early to run 50 just two weeks after 100. Sometimes we bring it on ourselves and sometimes shit just happens. The beauty part is you’re allowed to choose how you respond.

I kept quiet about the knee and sucked it up, it wasn’t about me today. We ran strong into the forties and past marathon distance and that was when the party really started. In a short space of time, Jackie was starting to look pretty much hmmmm not so sunshine….her body was shutting down, the smile had faded and some concerning chest pain was creeping in. So again here’s a moment where you get to choose how to respond. We decided the next 8 minutes of running would be made up of purely positive thoughts. It worked. Smiles returned and laughter was heard as we latched on to gratitude and appreciation. It was still a slog to the end but rather than focussing on just finishing and getting it over and done with we brought it back to the moment and were able to enjoy it even though it was 2016. I know right!!

We crossed the line, had just about the best hamburger ever and a couple of days later found out that we had been the first team across the line. Who’d a thunk it? We won. Really though we had won many times before we finished. We just had to take the time to think how and why.

 

On the first day of 2017 a man I had never met took his last breath. Anton was surrounded by loved ones. They drank champagne as they waited for the doctor to arrive. It was his last ‘happy hour’. These people lived and loved in that moment as they had lived and loved together forever. Probably able to do that ‘cause it wasn’t 2016, ya think?

 

If I Should Fall Behind Wait For Me

 

Why ?

The question so often asked of people who run. The question, sometimes so hard to answer.

It makes me a better person???……it really doesn’t

I just love it???……most of the time but not always

It gives me time to think???…… This one, I should do this more often.

‘I’ll wait for you, should I fall behind please darling wait for me.‘

I played this song 6 or 7 times on the way home from a solo run in the hills this morning. A run full of thought, full of thanks, full of love.

 

Ever met someone who has just started running. They’re so enthusiastic and so pumped about how fast, how far, how healthy, how everything. It can be truly inspiring. It can also be truly painful. Kind of like a 20 year/two pack a day smoker who has been off the darts for a week and is telling you how unhealthy you are.

I’m sure I started out like this in some ways. Funny enough even started writing a blog about the whole thing. Along the way I’ve tried not to preach, I’ve tried to just do. I’ve tried to tell my story without coming off all better than anyone else. Sure, I have achieved a lot of great things over the last few years. Gone fast, gone far, got healthy but I’ve always been wary of turning into a serial poster or spruiker of ME!!

Even still there is a genuine interest from people at work, family and friends. Non-runners are always asking how far did you go on the weekend or during the week. Sometimes the honest answer is I did 50km on Saturday or the weekly kms may have edged over a hundred. What has become normal-ish for me still provokes responses like: 'I didn’t drive that far this week' – or – 'Oh my god, you’re just an idiot'……in a good way. Again, to be honest, (why would I lie), these responses make me feel good about myself. As an extension of these feelings, it’s possible I was starting to think I had this life thing sorted. Running well, teaching in a rich vein of form, getting the lad involved in footy and momentarily off the ipod. All too easy.

The running and the achievements of how far/how fast definitely make me 'feel' better but that in itself doesn’t make ‘me’ better. I think along the way the lines blurred. I think to a degree I had taken my eye off the ball. I had believed that one thing made me who I am. I thought all was sweet. I was wrong.

It can take one word, it can take one action or it can take one poor choice to bring it all crashing down. It can be laziness or just a lack of focus over a period of time. It can be complacency and relaxing just a bit too much, taking things for granted.

I had a moment to pause recently, thought I was leading the way. I wasn’t. Not even close.

I had definitely fallen behind. Luckily someone was waiting for me.

I teach angels in the classroom who go home to treat the ones who love them most with tantrums and tears.

Adults sometimes are not so different.

 

You Run Like a Girl

I started running in August 2008. On September 16 that year my daughter, Tierney, was born. I didn’t run for about three weeks after that but got back into it and haven’t stopped since.

Now the phrase ‘you run like a girl’ is supposedly a negative term. However, I know a girl who recently ran 240km from Eden to the top of Mount Kosiousko. I know girl who ran ten km in Canada today, temperature was minus 22 degrees. Eye lashes became ice lashes. I know a girl who ran 5357km in 2013. I wish I could run like a girl.

If it wasn’t for a girl in my year 6 class in 2007 I might not have started running at all. Ashley and I raced each other over 800m at Aths training one afternoon. I’m not sure who challenged who but the result was significant. I pulled out into lane 2 with 300m to go and made my move. Ashley’s move was more decisive and she beat me by a big, big margin. My reaction to this was scary. I could hardly breathe, heart was racing and my whole body was shaking. Admittedly I didn’t start running regularly until the next year but my eyes were opened on that day and things had to change.

Six years later, September 2013, just before Tierney turned 5 there was a Relay for Life event being held at school. For 24 hours teams of students and some staff doing laps around school to raise money. It was organised by upper school students with a bit of friendly House competition thrown in. I am attached to Forster House and when I arrived at 4am I saw all the different coloured batons/glow sticks being carried around by runners and walkers. I spotted the red glow stick which belonged to Forster but couldn’t make out who was carrying it. I got ready to run and was passed the baton by a girl in year 12. It was Ashley. The moment was not lost on me.

On this occasion I had a fair bit left in the tank after 800m. I passed the baton back to a Forster kid 45km later. Ashley didn’t know it but she passed a baton to me way back in 2007 and it continues to be passed on.

Yesterday my daughter Tierney asked Leah if she could join her on a run. She looked perfect and she ran like a girl.

Clock Off - Trail On

Clock off, Trail on.

2012 was a year focussed intently on the marathon.  Canberra I wanted to go under 3.10 and did 3.08. Melbourne I wanted to go faster. I aimed at 2.59 and went 3.12. Training was all about the clock. Race pace sessions of up to 16km at sub 4m15s per km; track sessions of 400s, 800s, 1200s and 1600s; and fast finish longs to 34km with the last ten at race pace (never quite nailed one of those). Although I didn’t achieve everything I wanted, I still came out of it with my two fastest marathon times to date. There was some temptation to continue on and chase those 8 minutes to a sub 3 but after Melbourne, the greater draw was back to the trails. Too many digits on the road.

2013 started with a sense of freedom. I wanted to do events that I hadn’t done before. That’s where Coburg 6 Hour came in to play. Ok, sure. It’s very much not a trail run. But even running in circles for, as it turned out, 63km on a 400m aths track had nowhere near the pressure of a marathon. It was refreshing to just cruise around and around and around, enjoying a new experience. Might have been more refreshing and more enjoyable if it wasn’t 36 degrees on the day but aye, what are ya gonna do?

People talk of their, ‘A’ event, or ‘A’ race. That being the event they are placing most importance on. The event, that all their training is geared towards. The event where they want to give it an absolute smashing. This year I have no such events. But the one I had most been looking forward to was Mount Macedon 50km, closely followed by You Yangs.

Macedon holds great memories dating back to 1988. I was a 17 year old, ‘good’ Catholic boy on a year 12 school retreat. During a break we all, stealth like, trekked off to the pub. It was so fun. Jukebox blasting, beers flowing and a bunch of underage blokes having a ball. Fair to say there were big time recriminations as some mighty slurred speech filled the afternoon prayer session that day. Ah well, what are ya gonna do?

25 years later, just after dawn on a Sunday, the whole field of runners walked a couple of hundred metres from registration to start line, the top of Mount Macedon. A grey mist covered us all in and as we walked the Last Post rang out. Before the pain ahead it was a chance to focus, centre and reflect. Some closure perhaps on the retreat of ‘88 that had gone a bit pear shaped.

 

There were a few pieces of advice about Macedon that I took on board.

1)      It will be cold – Correct

2)      The first couple of kms is treacherous, slippery and technical – Correct

3)      The last 20km is harder than the first 30km – Oh my god, so freakin’ correct.

The temperature only affected me once I had stopped and finished. It took less than five minutes for me to be shivering uncontrollably. STOP!!!!!!!  Everyone get out of ya chairs, remove your hats and raise a glass to the volunteers. They were out there all day. ALL DAY I say. The coldness on the day equated directly to the puffiness of the jackets worn. Sooooo PUFFY.

 

The first couple of kms of the race could easily have been the only couple of kms of the race. It wasn’t out of control dangerous but when you’ve got the whole field in the same place at the one time and you throw in exuberance and no pain yet excitement all going downhill, you got yourself a recipe for disaster. I was happy to sit back and take it easy.

 

The first 30km was a breeze. At about 28km mark I thought how disappointed I would be if I had only entered the 30 and my race was nearly over. I was loving everything about Macedon at that stage. It was the absolute antithesis of my 2012. It was exactly what I had wanted to do, to run free.

The last 20km of Macedon was not a breeze. It was the toughest few hours I’ve ever run. It was either up or down. There didn’t seem to be much flat in it at all. The downhills were slippery, rocky and steep. You couldn't get any value out of them. A lot of them just couldn't be run. So my mantra became: ‘Whenever you can run, you have to run’! My body was wrecked late in the event and if I didn’t keep talking to myself and ordering myself to run then I just wouldn’t have. It was getting nasty.

The last few kms were straight uphill. It was unrelenting. There was no respite. Logic tells you that ‘this too shall pass’. But logic only did the first 30 at Macedon.

 

Crossing the finish line I commented how brutal it had been. I was amazed, exasperated. A sea of puffy jackets laughed at my pain. Macedon is not easy on anyone. I swore I would not return but I will.

Now I train waiting for You Yangs. I still wear a watch every time I go out but this year the digits just don’t matter.

Boston

 

Boston

What happened?                                             How?                                                   Why?

I don’t know if the questions will ever be answered. Obama has vowed to make those responsible accountable for their actions. Whatever comes of the investigation into this tragedy, it won’t change the outcome for at least one of the runners.

In 1979 my dad ran his first marathon. I remember standing on St Kilda Rd near the finish line as hundreds of men and women struggled in horrible pain to achieve their goal. I remember seeing my dad among the shuffling sea of agony stricken athletes. He was my hero. I was 8 years old.

Last night I watched the start of the Boston Marathon live on TV. I thought it strange because these sort of events are rarely televised. I watched the first 20 minutes or so until I had to go to bed. This morning I woke up and the Boston Marathon was still on TV. This time it was the news reporting a bomb blast that had killed and injured innocent spectators. The footage was horrible. None of it made sense and it was an absolute, genuine tragedy. But it was to get worse.

Later today I heard more detailed reports about the attack. One of the three people killed was an 8 year old boy. An 8 year old boy who had stood watching, and waiting for his hero, his dad, to run past.

Tonight I kiss my children as they sleep. One Boston marathoner cannot. All that I hope is that he, the dad, knows his boy would have been in absolute awe. The 8 year old boy’s last thoughts would have been about his hero.

 

Appreciating every moment.

 

 

I am a fraud!!!

I am a fraud. This ugly thought dominated my thinking in the lead up to the Coburg 6 hour ultra.

At last year’s marathon in October I had aimed to go sub-3 hours. I blew up badly and struggled across the line in 3.12. Although still happy with the time itself, my second fastest, I was disappointed that I hadn’t been able to stick to the race plan.

Following the marathon I was entered in a charity event in the Dandenongs called the Moonwalk. 45km, during the night, with over 2000m of elevation. A tough course, no question, but I had done it before and was confident that it wouldn’t be too much of a problem. Yup, got that one very wrong. All sorts of pain and another plan that didn’t go to plan.

So the Coburg 6 hour was going to be my next opportunity to get it right. Follow a plan and achieve a set goal. I had trained well, done several 3, 4 and 5 hour runs. I’d eaten well, kept up weekly speed sessions and I’d even stretched daily for weeks on end. Again I was getting pretty confident that I was in for a good event. I enlisted the help of Kev Mannix to be my support crew. Aside from being the greatest of mates who would do anything to help, I was also tapping into someone who knows more about running, fuelling and pacing than most nearly everyone. Standing with him on the day would be Toby and Darren. Both of these blokes have done more ultras than they probably even remember.

As well as these great runners being there to watch the most boring of ultras there is, I also had my family coming along to support me. My parents both the other side 70 years, my wife and our two young kids, my brothers and my very pregnant sister in law would all be there in 35 degree heat. They would be there because I asked them.

And so it was that a week out from the run, I couldn’t run. I had pain in my right leg – shin splints. My taper started early and I increased the stretching to alleviate the pain. The other thing stopping me from running was pure fear of further damage. I couldn’t face pulling out and letting down all of these people. If I couldn’t run for 6 hours………..well I didn’t want to consider the option.

I would be a fraud, biting off more than I could chew, trying to play on the big stage, with the real runners, but without the ability. I was already getting embarrassed by the possibility.

If I spoke this to Kev, Toby or Darren or any of my family they would all tell me I was being ridiculous and it wouldn’t matter at all if I couldn’t start or couldn’t complete this particular run. I knew this and believed it but these ugly thoughts kept rushing through my head.

 

Sunday morning I woke at 3.15am for the 6.00am start. I had breakfast. Is it even called breakfast when it’s that early? Moments after breakfast my guts started churning. Well that’s just fantastic. Late in the week I had been able to run pain free and now this. Was I destined to not complete Coburg. Two years ago I had entered but not made it to the start line due to injury. Well the guts didn’t settle, things were decidedly uncomfortable even just walking around. This was getting to be a joke.

 

Ah well, what are you gonna do? 6.00am came around and off we went. I think being a touch NQR was good because it meant I went out slow. First km was about 5.45. Only 5hours 54minutes 15seconds to go.

Over half an hour in and still my guts were terrible. This was headed for disaster. I decided to bite the bullet, and the banana, and take on some food. It was a gamble but I wouldn’t last long like this. The banana went down ok. My guts went from 10 outa 10 ten unsettled to maybe a 7. I left it at that for another thirty minutes and then took my next gamble, taking on a liquid food called perpetuem. I hadn’t used it in an event before but today I had it factored in to the fuelling plan. Well perpetuem is now my new hero. Very shortly after sipping a bit of this not so tasty gear I was feeling all shades of lovely in the gut. Big phew. So just under 90 minutes in and finally my body was good and the thoughts of fraudulent behaviour had disappeared. Time to get dizzy and enjoy.

We were pretty luck on the day that there was darkness followed by cloud cover for nearly half of the six hours. My plan had been to stay consistent around 5.30 – 5.40 per km. This felt to be a  very slow pace for a flat event. I had to keep reminding myself that the pain would come and that slow early would help late. Others on the track were going a lot quicker and I was being lapped constantly. Some of them had planned to make hay while the sun didn’t shine and slow up when the heat of the day really kicked in. It was to prove to be a tough way to go about it.

Aside from the early gut ache I only had two really tough patches. The first lasted for about 40 minutes not long after the half way turn around. It was a bit of excitement to go in the opposite direction but the thrill only lasted maybe a lap and a half and then I hit struggle town. Everything was hurting and taking on fuel was becoming a difficult assignment. The second patch was at about 4h20m and that lasted for about 25 minutes. On both occasions I remember thinking of Canadian runner Jason Loutit who said he constantly moves his attention and focus from the scenery and all that was going on around him and then back in very tight to shut all of that out and focus on form. I found it very comforting to think that all I had to do was shut it all out and run. Everything else was taken care of by my crew. My job was easy.

I started taking laps back off people who had looked super fresh and quick early. A heap of people on track were walking now, even the leader. I just figured they’d gone out too fast and I was still chugging along because of pacing. However that was only the half of it.

 

My crew was amazing. Of the 158 laps I did I would say there was only a dozen where there was no interaction at all. Every other time there was handing over food or drink or a quick comment or joke about how tricky the course was and to follow it carefully. My family all turned up with just over an hour to go and this was a huge lift. Seeing them and having my brother and son do laps on the inside with me was something I loved and won’t ever forget.

 

 

Excitement seemed to be at fever pitch with everyone there and my crew went into overdrive. Something was happening nearly every lap now. I had two caps, one on my head and one in icy water in the esky that we would rotate every 5 laps. Same thing with ice filled bandanas around my neck. Then there was ice cream buckets of water that would be poured over me. Of course drinking water, powerade and even another disgusting gel being taken with only forty minutes to go. There was no time to be bored, I was always doing something. I thought that the crew might have been bored and just offering stuff for something to do. It was only after the race that I found out in that last hour of the race the temperature had risen to 36 degrees and the crew was working hard to keep me cool. Kev sometimes chased after me to pick up bottles I would drop after use. He said he would get back under the market umbrella straight away and comment on how hot it was out there.

My race finished after 6 Hours, 158 Laps, 63.316km in 36 degree heat. The crew was that good that I had no idea how hot it was. They gave me every opportunity to achieve what I had planned to.

My dad hugged me where I had stopped on the track. He spoke of it being a very emotional moment. It was. He said after he turned up it took him about eight laps of clapping me as I passed for him to not be close to tears.

Having my family there was the best thing about the day. Being coherent, cool, happy and still running was….was….hmmm what’s the opposite of fraud.

 

·         Cannot thank Kev, Darren, Toby, Brett on the spray bottle and my family enough for helping me around the track.

 

My Favourite Run

Yesterday I went for two different runs that were both fantastic experiences. All of it was free, hardly seems fair but I’ll take it.

Yesterday I met Gully and Seb at 4.45am in Burwood outside Seb’s house. Every time we meet at these ridiculous hours we speak in hushed tones trying not to wake anyone in the house we are to depart from. Then almost without fail the most noise we will make is laughter. Pretty sure the chuckles stem from the same place each time. Three grown men sneaking about in the dark to go for a run is slightly funny in itself but really it’s about excitement. We know what lays ahead and giggle like school kids in anticipation.

So off we go to the Dandenongs to meet Tobes and the Moon Man for a 5.30 start at One Tree Hill, the top of the 1000 steps. It was cold up there which was a shock to the system but it didn’t take long at all warm up and feel comfortable. I was wearing my head torch which is pretty much overkill even in the dead of night, it’s that strong. I only needed the artificial for about half an hour before the big fireball in the sky started to push some natural glow on our surrounds.

By this time we were heading through Sherbrook Forest and it was simply magic. It all just looked perfect, almost felt like nobody had ever been there before and it was all just for us. We flew downhill for about 2kms before heading up some challenging steeps. Having these other runners around me, or more to the point, in front of me on these ascents was a real motivator and great for my own running. All of these guys are part mountain goat and really hammer up and down the hills.

We got to a point where we had a choice of two paths to head back to the cars. One of them was shorter and easier and we would get back with plenty of time. The other path was a bit longer with nastier steeps. We were under a bit of time pressure so Toby asked Seb if his legs still had some run left in them so we could quicken it up. My jaw dropped, closely followed by laughter. If the mountain goats were going to quicken then I was in for some pain. The start of the path home was downhill so I thought make hay while the sun shines. Ran alongside Tobes & Gully and we did a km in 3.43. By far it was my fastest km on the trails that I can remember.

We were heading up Heartbreak Hill at the end just as the trails were starting to get busy with groups training for Oxfam Trailwalker. It wasn’t even 7.30 on a Sunday morning and we had stolen 19km in them beautiful hills. That session has been elevated to my favourite training run. The scenery was awesome and running with faster blokes was tough but has me glowing a day n a half later.

 

Later on the same day my 6 year old Raf was keen to go for a run. We haven’t been running together for over a year. He used to love coming out with me but lost a bit of interest after a while. No worries, if he wasn’t asking, I wasn’t pushing.

He’s going into grade 1 this year and interestingly, he mentioned recently that he was going to be second tallest in his class and would be third or fourth fastest. I’m not sure that it’s a good or bad thing that he knows where he sits in these measured areas. It probably doesn’t matter at all. He didn’t seem phased. However I did mention that with the running side of things you could get faster if you trained. The height thing I’ve already done as much as I can to help with that.

So again his interest in running has surfaced. A few days ago Raf got out some cones and set them up in the backyard. He made a little sign and we did a few races. Yesterday he wanted to do 20kms. I suggested we start at 1km and see how we go. We kicked off a real slow shuffle. He had learnt that sprinting in the cone races had him “out of power” too quickly. The shuffle continued for about 500m. Raf said he wanted to stop. I was uneasy at this point, I didn’t want to be a tennis dad but I suggested we try to keep going and run all the way to his school. That gave him a goal and something to focus on. He saw the school fence approaching, I said let’s keep going to the other end of the school, that would be a kilometre. We did, he stopped, out of power but really happy with his 1km, all running.

We walked back home and on the way he again mentioned where he ranked in his grade 1 class as a runner. But then he started talking about what sort of runner he might be when he’s in grade six. He was talking about what might happen if he keeps training. He was talking and wondering about his future. Without using the words exactly, he was showing an understanding that his future was in his own hands.

I thought I’d been on my favourite run that morning. I had, but it had been overtaken within a matter of hours. The kilometre that Raf and I ran together was so, so good. He pushed himself and worked really hard. The kilometre we walked home together was even better. I was really proud of what he had to say but it wouldn’t have mattered what the content of the conversation was. What mattered most was giving him the *time and space to speak. I loved it.

People often mention struggles with motivation in getting started. This aint gonna work for everyone but I suggest run one km with your kid(s). Then walk and let them speak.

I had to enforce a rest day for Raf today. There’s no rush.

 

* Time and Space is a term borrowed from my brother Bill. Check out his blog, he does good stuff. http://bill-j-from-time-space.blogspot.com.au/